Shadow Slave

1019 The Fall of Falcon Scott (37)

Some distance away, the ethereal flower suddenly swirled, its beautiful petals billowing outward like a current of white silk. Ghostly tentacles of flowing cloth shot toward the charging Saint, too swift and insidious to dodge.

As Sunny watched in fear, Bloodwave's head became enveloped by the silk, his glowing eyes disappearing from view. The body of the monstrous killer whale shuddered, moved weakly, and then grew strangely still.

'Gods...'

He saw something much more frightening, as well.

Two of the longer petals were already flying through the dark abyss, approaching Sunny and Naeve. They were fast... too fast. Inescapable.

He had no time to dodge, or even react. There were no thralls close enough to hide in their shadow, and not enough time to try and swim away. All Sunny managed to do was slash forward with the Sin of Solace. The jade blade met the white petal, cutting through the cloth. A small piece of it drifted away, but the petal was not slowed down at all.

It seemed to unfurl into a vast expanse of billowing silk, surrounding Sunny from all sides. Then, he was wrapped in the cold whiteness, encompassed and immobilized by it. The feeling of smooth satin brushing against his naked skin made Sunny shudder.

'Damna... tion...'

Then, the world grew still.

The dark abyss of the ocean disappeared, replaced by an eternity of fluttering white cloth.

His exhaustion and fear disappeared, too.

His memory, foresight, awareness, intent, and resolve were gone.

His mind was empty.

Sunny vaguely remembered having thoughts, desires, and hopes. But those words seemed senseless now, their meaning unfathomable. In fact, the word he had used to describe himself — Sunny — was meaningless, too. What a strange one it was...

were... shadows... moving around him. He was moving,

was dissolving more and more. Soon, it would be gone completely. And then, something new, something old, something darker, something... waiting... was

felt at

He felt... empty.

The emptiness was comforting.

thing blemishing the peaceful white flawlessness of

mocking voice. It whispered

we go. A pathetic end

— his own voice — Sunny

Lost from Light.

That was his name.

all the rest like a

'What... is... going on?'

it was hopeless. The terrifying understanding flooded his mind,

probably about to

sensing the reality of being dragged through the mass of water by

for more. Its progress was slow and labored, but inevitable. Sunny tried to fight against the harrowing invader, throwing all of his willpower into a fierce assault,

'Ah... not good...'

were

physical bonds instead. However, his arms were pressed tightly against his body, and the white cloth refused to part before the blade of the Sin of Solace, like the flesh of other

'Curse it!'

was the only one trying to struggle against the Terror's petals. Both were probably

of Solace and possessing a True Name might have helped, but it could not have been the only reason. Bloodwave was the enigmatic Saint's True

Sunny's unreasonably high resistance to mental attacks. Even

it, though, since Sunny could neither free himself nor

white silk, he could feel himself growing... insubstantial. With each moment, his thoughts became less his own. His eyes stared at the silken veil, moving on their own. As if something else was looking

felt

never like this. Sensing something else take possession of his body, while utterly helpless to resist the slow dissolution of his will... it was the realization of all his deepest,