The transition from the Dream Realm to the waking world was never gentle.
It tore.
—RIP—
Like being dragged through a veil of needles—sharp, disorienting, merciless—leaving behind a residue of otherness clinging to flesh and soul alike.
Sunny stepped out of shadow.
—HISS—
He emerged from the mouth of a maintenance conduit in the outer ring of Bastion, humanity's largest stronghold in Antarctica. The cold struck first—biting, dry as bone—carrying the faint metallic tang of recycled oxygen and the distant, ever-present hum of generators.
—THRUM—
He straightened slowly, allowing his Aspect to settle.
The onyx armor unraveled into threads of darkness that sank back into his soul, leaving him clad in a hooded coat of black synthetic weave—reinforced, practical, forgettable. His hair remained bound high, stray strands already stiffening with frost. At his hip, the blade shifted and softened, its presence collapsing into the harmless outline of a utility knife.
No alarms.
No shouting.
No boots pounding toward him.
He was a ghost here.
As always.
Bastion sprawled beneath a massive dome of reinforced alloy and layered energy shields—a city born not of beauty, but of desperation. Modular habitat towers rose in concentric rings, stacked like the bones of some artificial hive. Elevated walkways threaded between them, vibrating softly as mag-trains glided past.
Lights glowed in amber and white, pushing back the eternal twilight of the polar night.
Beyond the dome waited the real Antarctica.
Endless white.
Winds that could peel flesh from bone.
And Nightmare Gates—silent wounds in reality, waiting to bleed horrors into the snow.
Above, faint ribbons of aurora rippled across the sky—green and violet curtains shimmering against the stars.
Beautiful.
If you ignored the truth.
The Spell had scarred even the heavens.
Sunny pulled his hood lower and started walking.
The outer ring was all industry—warehouses, fabrication plants, storage depots fed by orbital drops. Awakened patrolled in pairs, aspects suppressed but ready to flare at a moment's notice. Valor insignia gleamed faintly on armor plates.
He slipped between cargo stacks, shadows bending naturally around him, gait unhurried. Unremarkable.
Home sweet home, he thought dryly.
Or whatever passes for it now.
Months had passed since his last visit.
Long enough for the legend of the Devil of Antarctica to fade into rumor.
Long enough for the Cohort to… adjust.
The tether within his soul was quiet now—not tugging, not pulling—just a steady hum.
She was close.
Inner rings.
Training, planning, sharpening herself against the future.
Nephis never rested.
He passed a checkpoint.
—BEEP—
Scanners flickered, shadows nudging light just enough to blur his features.
No reaction.
The middle ring opened up—residential sectors stacked like honeycombs. Communal halls buzzed with life as Awakened gathered to eat, drink, and pretend the world wasn't still ending one catastrophe at a time.
Laughter spilled from an open mess hall.
Effie's booming voice thundered through the air, mid-story, exaggerated beyond all reason—
—ROAR OF LAUGHTER—
Kai's smooth chuckle followed, warm and controlled.
Jet's quieter remark cut through it all, dry and razor-sharp.
Sunny stopped in the alley opposite the entrance.
Just beyond the light.
He could step in.
Say nothing dramatic. Toss out a familiar insult. Watch shock twist into relief.
Questions would follow.
They always did.
But he stayed where he was.
Not yet.
Something else pulled at him.
Deeper.
Quieter.
Toward a habitat block reserved for the Cohort's inner circle.
Cassie.
The blind oracle had always seen too much.
If anyone knew he was coming—
It was her.
He moved again.
—TAP— TAP—
Silent footsteps across grated floors. Corridors narrowed, walls etched with subtle wards—echoes and memories woven into metal, meant to alert against intruders.
Shadows slipped through them like smoke through fingers.
Her door waited at the end.
Plain.
Unassuming.
Yet wrapped in gentle divination, pulsing faintly—Cassie's Aspect. Not defensive.
Observant.
Sunny lifted a hand to knock.
Paused.
What do you say after vanishing for months?
Hey. Miss me? Apocalypse still on schedule?
The door slid open.
—HISS—
Cassie stood there.
Small. Composed. Unchanged in all the ways that mattered. Short hair framed a familiar face, eyes sightless yet angled perfectly toward him.
A faint smile curved her lips.
Troubled.
Knowing.
"You're late," she said softly.
Sunny leaned against the frame, arms folding.
"Traffic was murder. You know how the void gets this time of year."
She stepped aside without comment.
Inside, the room was sparse—but warm. A low table. A steaming pot of tea.
—STEAM—
Holographic displays glowed faint blue. A wide window overlooked Bastion's interior lights, where artificial snow drifted gently in a contained field.
Cassie poured two cups with practiced ease.
"I felt you cross over," she said, back turned. "The shadows… they sang louder tonight."
Poetic as ever.
Sunny entered. The door sealed behind him.
Darkness pooled subtly at his feet.
"How bad is it?" he asked.
Straight to the point.
She handed him a cup.
Their fingers brushed.
Warm.
Cold.
"Worse than you think," Cassie replied calmly. "But not hopeless. Not yet."
She sat, gesturing to the chair opposite.
Sunny ignored it.
He moved to the window instead, watching the city glow beneath the dome.
"Tell me about the visions."
Cassie sipped her tea.
Her expression grew distant.
"Fractures," she whispered. "Light tearing away from shadow. Fire turning cold. Alliances breaking like ice in spring."
She turned her head toward him.
"And at the center… you."
Sunny looked sharply over his shoulder.
"Me?"
She nodded.
"The cold war is coming, Sunny. Not with gates. Not with monsters."
"With words."
"With choices."
"Valor pushes Neph one way. Song pulls from afar."
"And you…"
Her voice softened.
"You're the shadow that could tip everything."
Outside, the aurora flared—
—SHIMMER—
—painting the room in spectral green.
Sunny set the untouched cup down.
"Then I'd better stay in the dark a little longer."
Cassie's smile faded.
"That," she said quietly, "is exactly what I'm afraid of."
Outside the window, snow continued to fall.
Slow.
Silent.
Inevitable.