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.

was not going to leave without learning at least

to study writing left behind by

he saw and glance at

experience was nothing short of horrid, but at

when Sunny summoned Weaver's Mask was he able to look at the portions of the hall without

their secrets. He didn't know their language, after

for naught. Because, while slowly moving around the

It was... a map.

rather, a strange semblance

tool the Prince of the Underworld had wielded to leave

of them, an island with a familiar silhouette of a graceful pagoda floated above flames. Even further south, separated from the

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

other image, above all of them, was… a

…Weaver's Mask.

somehow. There were no borders, no terrain, no measure of distance between them. The ideas of north, south, east, and west were only something Sunny

the same time, it fit with the geography of the Dream Realm as he knew it,

trouble understanding. It was similar to the one used by the Spell,

he easily guessed what the images

the image itself was only familiar, their closeness to the

like any other human in the real world. Its likeness was the stage for countless dramas, movies, and webtoons, after all. Similarly, he recognized the great stone bridge nestled between

on the ghostly waves represented the Stormsea, where the citadel of the