Shadow Slave

The fifth level of the Ebony Tower had almost killed Sunny.

It was completely empty, its black walls drowning in darkness and unadorned. There was no dust, no ruined pieces of furniture, tools, or strange metal devices. Not even lanterns.

There were, however, countless runes carved into the walls themselves. And almost all of those runes were of the kind that radiated a sickening, dire sensation that made one feel as though their mind was breaking apart.

The same mysterious runes that the Spell used to describe the Unknown, and that Sunny had seen written on the floor by the prisoner of the small cell that was hidden under the ruined cathedral in the Dark City.

Back then, looking at them dealt a heavy blow to Sunny, but he persisted and was eventually able to read a single phrase that the prisoner had written, unlike everything else, in a familiar script…

Hail Weaver, Demon of Fate. Firstborn of the -unknown-...

On the second to last level of the Ebony Tower, however, there were much more of the terrible runes. And most of the seemed far more intense, far more... powerful.

When Sunny had first set foot into the dark hall, he yelped and jumped back, then rolled down the spiraling stairs all the way back to the shrine of the Storm God.

…Good thing his bones were now much more hardy.

Eventually, however, he had returned to the hall of runes.

Sunny knew that looking at the vile writings could destroy his sanity, maybe even outright kill him, so he had done so with his eyes closed and while leaving the shadows behind, so that they, too, could not see the ancient walls.

Even then, he felt a terrible pressure constantly assaulting his mind.

to leave without learning at

he ever be able to study writing left behind by

to limit the scope of what he saw and glance at

nothing short of horrid,

Sunny summoned Weaver's Mask was he able to look at the portions of the hall without feeling like passing out or falling down

turned less dreadful, but did not give up their secrets. He didn't know their language, after all. The Spell,

Because, while slowly

It was... a map.

rather, a strange semblance of

Prince of the Underworld had wielded to leave these markings

the map, jagged mountains were depicted, shrouded by mist. Directly south of them, an island with a familiar silhouette of a graceful pagoda floated above flames.

snowy peak stood near a fuming volcano, and nestled between them was an arched bridge. To the south-west, a strange ship floated on ghostly waves. Sout-east of the mountains, divided from them by a long stretch of nothingness, a perfectly symmetrical pyramid was cut

image, above all of them, was… a familiar shape.

…Weaver's Mask.

were no borders, no terrain, no measure of distance between them. The ideas of north, south, east, and west were only something Sunny had assigned to the map out of habit. Truly, it could have been the exact opposite, or impossible to apply to the

time, it fit with the geography of the Dream Realm as

the images had an inscription near them, written in a runic language that Sunny had trouble understanding. It was similar to the one used

even without reading the inscriptions. he easily guessed what the images

itself was only familiar, their closeness to the Ivory Tower

was the stage for countless dramas, movies, and webtoons, after all. Similarly, he recognized the great stone bridge nestled between a snowy peak and a raging volcano — it was the road to Ravenheart, the great Citadel ruled

hard to surmise that the ship sailing on the ghostly waves represented the Stormsea, where the citadel of the third