Shadow Slave

"Dusk... Sybil of the Fallen Grace."

Sunny shivered.

Of course, he remembered who Dusk was. He was wearing a tunic called Shroud of Graceless Dusk, after all - the Transcendent Memory of the Sixth Tier he had received for slaying the Terror of LO49.

...That damned horror.

If he were to try and assign numbers to the enemies he had faced in Antarctica based on how many mental scars they left him with, the beautiful flower of floating white silk would be squarely placed second, right behind the Winter Beast. Even Goliath, who had literally killed him, did not leave as harrowing of an impression.

Of course, Dusk was most likely neither dead nor corrupted yet in the Nightmare. She was still a human, and seemed to be ruling a place called Fallen Grace. Since Sunny and Nephis wanted to reach the civilization of the Great River and find the sybils, this destination was perfect.

...It was a little bit too perfect, even.

Ananke had answered one of the most important questions they had. The improbable coincidence of them finding her ketch just when they needed it was no coincidence at all. She had come knowingly, expecting to find them.

But who was it that had instructed her where to find them? In her dreams, no less?

Who was pulling the strings of this Nightmare behind the scenes?

'Is it, perhaps, the last sybil herself?'

Sunny frowned, knowing that he would not find the answer any time soon. The earliest opportunity was probably going to be when he came face-to-face with the Sybil of the Fallen Grace... again.

He sighed.

"...Fallen Grace? How far is that?"

Old Ananke hesitated for a few moments.

far. Very, very far. So far that I won't be able to guide you all the

her eyes closing slightly. It almost seemed as

old woman

They chased us away, and we traveled upstream for

Nephis looked at each

between the locals of the Great River? Would it be dangerous for her to enter

what did she mean, that Weave only

Nephis spoke cautiously:

put you

The old woman smiled.

my wish and privilege, my Lady. Do not worry about me... I am...

speech was slowing down, and her words became slurred. It was obvious that the old woman

seemed to have

raised her hands. In the

both stared in bewilderment as a whirlwind of white sparks appeared in

is summoning a

infinitely strange and out of place when performed by one of the ancient humans. It was the ability of those infected by the Spell, after all, and no one they had

of them. Ananke opened it with shaking hands and took out

embroidered tablecloth, a carafe of wine, a painted ceramic teapot with steam rising from its spout, two small cups, and two plates - one full

and the pies looked freshly cooked. The items were simple and modest, even worn out

delicious smell spread through

the tablecloth and offered the

Lady... you must be tired after braving the horrors of the future. Please, eat and

with effort. Sitting down on it, the old woman tiredly lowered her head

the next moment, the ketch

themselves and billowed in the wind, while the steering oar swayed, turning the bow of the boat downstream. Soon, they were

were completely exhausted and incredibly hungry, but... they still did not trust the old