1859-1860 eng

1859 Untold

Far away and beyond reach, a vast expanse of rolling water was glistening under the starlit sky. Black clouds were flowing like tattered banners, torn apart by the violent winds.

Colossal waves were rising and falling, each taller than a fortress wall. Countless bolts of lightning were flashing, branching as they struck the restless surface of the water.

Illuminated by the veil of lightning that connected its numerous masts to the stars, a titanic ship was waging a war against the storm.

The ship was at least a kilometer across from port to starboard, but seemed narrow because of its great length. Its ancient hull was made of wood, but had no seams — it was as if the entire vessel had been created by hollowing out a single branch that spanned more than a dozen kilometers from end to end.

Although, if there was a tree with branches so immense, severing one would not have been an easy feat. Fashioning a ship out of it would not have been a task for mortals, either.

The titanic ship was like a city in and of itself. There were dozens of decks, beautiful palaces and tall pagodas built on its surface, and great mysteries hiding in its boundless holds. There were wild groves, rushing streams, and deep lakes.

And people.

This was Night Garden, the great Citadel of the House of Night.

Despite the furious force of the storm, which would have destroyed any other vessel, the Night Garden was moving through turbulent waters with daunting, unstoppable ease. The colossal waves were cut apart by its proud bow and broke powerlessly against its indestructible hull. The branching bolts of lightning struck its masts and were absorbed by them, empowering the ancient ship.

The terrible abominations that rose from unfathomable depths from time to time to attack the great vessel were consumed by it, becoming parts of its living hull.

Even in a region of the Dream Realm as strange and deadly as the Stormsea, the people populating the Night Garden were relatively safe.

Tonight, however...

Human blood was spilled on its deck, flowing like a river. The blood was absorbed by the ancient ship, as well. "What... what are you doing..."

Close to the bow of the ship, an old man was crawling across the deck, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. His voice was full of pain, confusion, and sorrowful disbelief.

There was a younger man following him with unhurried steps, holding a bloodied knife in his hand.

There was no emotion on the younger man's face, and no mercy in his eyes.

He shrugged.

"You didn't have to be stubborn, old man. This could all have been avoided."

Behind him, a desperate scream tore apart the howling of the storm, and then stopped abruptly. There were more screams further away, some of them full of fear, some of them full of rage.

But with each minute, there were less and less of them. The old man gritted his teeth.

"You've lost your mind!"

His killer sighed, then rubbed his face tiredly with a bloodied hand. For a moment, he seemed incredibly exhausted, a spark of some unknown emotion finally finding its way into his eyes.

"Have I? Ah, I'll admit... there might be some merit to your argument."

With that, he leaned down, grabbed the old man by the ankle, and dragged him back while raising the knife.

"...But then again, who hasn't?"

The old man looked at him with horror.

His lips trembled.

"You! You are not my son!"

The younger man froze for a moment, then suddenly chuckled.

The hint of emotion drained from his eyes, leaving only terrible coldness. "Aye. I've heard that one before..."

The knife fell down like the guillotine's blade.

The storm raged on.

***

[Wake up, Sunny!]

Sunny couldn't help but flinch, overcome by a strong sense of deja vu.

There was a voice in his head, telling him to wake up... thankfully, it was not the voice of the Nightmare Spell. It was Cassie's voice, albeit at that moment, the two sounded eerily similar.

'Why is she...'

He was confused for a moment, but then remembered that not everyone was truly familiar with the strange nature of his existence. His original body in Godgrave was asleep, so Cassie must have assumed that she needed to wake him.

His over two incarnations, however, very rarely slept — so, there was no need for her to bother.

[What is it?]

There were a few moments of silence, as if Cassie was confused. Then, she responded, a sense of urgency in her voice:

[You need to return to the camp.]

Standing in the great hall of the Nameless Temple, Sunny frowned.

The avatar hiding in Rain's shadow was momentarily disturbed, as well. When was the last time Cassie had lost her composure like that?

He could barely remember.

[What are you talking about? I am in the camp.]

She answered almost immediately:

[The Lord of Shadow has to return. Something strange is happening.] Sunny looked at the gates of the temple.

It was a long way from the southern edge of the dead god's breastbone to the eastern reaches of the collarbone. He could make it relatively fast by

abusing Shadow Step, but it would still take considerable time, and drain his reserves of essence.

Still, Cassie would not have called him back without a reason. [What exactly is happening?]

There was a moment of silence, and then she answered in a tense voice:

[The House of Night is on the move. The king has summoned Nephis and Morgan. I'll tell you more the moment I learn it, so hurry... no, wait...]

Cassie hesitated a little.

[There is no time. Return to NQSC. I'll pick you up and bring you back to the camp. That will be faster.]

Sunny raised an eyebrow behind the mask

'So, they finally decided to act. I wondered when they would.'

He had a suspicion that the House of Night would not remain on the sidelines of the war despite their desperate efforts to claim neutrality... a suspicion strong enough that it could very well be called certainty. He had known that something like this would happen ever since that clash with the Skinwalker outside Ravenheart.

Cassie and Nephis knew, as well. In fact, they had accounted for this eventuality in their plans. At the end of the day, it did not really matter to them which side gained an advantage in the war — because, eventually, both sides would have to be destroyed.

But Cassie still sounded tense. Why?

Suddenly, he regretted his caution. Maybe he should have tried to infiltrate the command pavilion of the Song Army, after all. Or pressed Rain to share military secrets with her usually disinterested teacher.

'There is only one way to find out.'

Actually, there were many ways to find out. But that was neither here nor there.

Frowning deeply, Sunny reached into his soul and pulled on the tether.

1860 Turn of Fortune

There were plumes of smoke rising above NQSC.

Leaning against a dirty wall in the depths of the outskirts, Sunny looked at the towering black pillars silently. A police PTV sped by, flooding the deep darkness of the night with bright lights of the blaring siren. He hid himself deeper in the shadows and crossed his arms.

'Several locations, most of them close to the city center.'

Fires were not a rarity in NQSC, but not on that scale, and not in the affluent districts at the heart of the city.

What had happened? Was the agreement to leave the war out of the waking world broken, already?

[How far are you?]

There was a moment of silence. [Less than a minute.]

Soon, a luxurious PTV screeched to a halt in front of him. The passenger door opened, and Cassie stepped out of the vehicle, looking a little disheveled. She remained motionless for a few moments, then turned in his direction, winced, and hurriedly smoothed her hair.

Sunny emerged from the shadows and walked over. "What the hell is happening?"

For now, he was wearing the mask he had fashioned himself. So, it was the only opportunity to have an honest conversation with Cassie — once they reached Godgrave, he would have to don Weaver's Mask in order to keep his secrets.

"Was the compound of Clan Valor attacked? The Dream Gate relay? Storage facilities?"

She hesitated briefly, then shook her head.

"It's all the House of Night. Their strongholds across the city have gone up in flames. It's total chaos."

Sunny was surprised.

"...They were attacked?"

A deep frown creased Cassie's delicate brow.

"For now, it seems like infighting." 'What?'

It took him a moment to process the information. The members of the House of Night were fighting among each other?

Was there a schism among the leaders of the great clan? Unlike Song and Valor, which were monoliths held together by shared blood and familial bonds, the House of Night had been born from an alliance of a dozen Legacy clans — a decision dictated by the meteoric rise of the two great families, to a large extent.

So, he could entertain the idea of internal strife resulting in an open conflict during these trying times.

However, something did not smell right...

Sunny had a few ideas about who could have been behind the whole mess, but he was not certain.

Cassie sent the PTV away and then faced him. Her expression was a little strange.

"There are... defectors."

He raised an eyebrow behind the mask. "Where are they defecting to?"

The blind seer seemed troubled.

"Several prominent figures of the House of Night appeared at the gates of Clan Valor's stronghold here, in NQSC. Bloodied and with their family members in tow. They are... asking for an asylum."

Now that was simply bizarre. Sunny felt troubled, as well. "Where are they now?"

Cassie offered him her hand.

"They are passing through the Dream Gate. The king will negotiate with them — or interrogate them, depending on the situation — personally. Everyone worth anything were summoned back to the camp. The situation might turn more dire than we had anticipated."

He sighed, then took her hand and dismissed [Definitely Not Me].

Before summoning Weaver's Mask, he looked at Cassie somberly and said: "Let's go see what all the noise is about, then."

Soon, he was standing on the emerald grass of the Ivory Island.

Sunny could see that the camp was much more lively than it should have been.

The Sword Army had already ventured to carve a path south, with countless Awakened soldiers, Masters, and Saints leaving the safety of the fortified stronghold.

The progress was slow, but methodical and steady.

If the cloud veil did not break and the jungle was not incinerated, Saint Tyris would part the clouds herself. Blinding sunlight would flood the bone plain and turn the crimson growth — as well as those abominations that were not fast enough to escape into the Hollows — to ash.

Then, after the Cloudveil repaired itself, the army would advance.

They would clash with the regrowing jungle and the Nightmare Creatures being born in its scarlet depths, pushing toward the fissures in the bone that served as the source of the dreadful infestation. The battles were punishing, dire, and often prolonged — but with champions like Nephis and Summer Knight spearheading the offensive, the Sword Army was slowly gaining ground.

Once they reached a fissures and cut the roots of the jungle in the area, its remnants would be burned, and a fortress would be constructed around the fissure. A containment detachment would be left to garrison the fortress, tasked with preventing the jungle from extending its tendrils to the surface again.

By now, there was a disorderly chain of a dozen of these fortresses and numerous smaller forts extending west, almost all the way to the point where the collarbone and the breastbone connected.

Considering the current state of the main camp, though, most of the Saints leading the expedition force had been recalled ahead of the scheduled rotation.

Sunny did not know what exactly happened in NQSC... but he was quite

confident that the fortune of the Sword Army was about to turn for the

worst.

'Those Song sisters have been acting too calm, indeed.'

Shaking his head, he followed Cassie toward the Valor Keep — which was the name given to the central stronghold of the camp by the soldiers.

The two of them entered under its heavy roof and were immediately guided to a spacious chamber where many Saints had already gathered, all wearing somber expressions on their faces.

"Lady Cassia, have you received any news? What exactly happened"

Cassie smiled briefly at the dashing Rivalen of Aegis Rose and shook her head apologetically.

"I am on my way to see the King. There will be more clarity soon."

A Knight of Valor arrived, then hurriedly led Cassie and Sunny deeper into the stronghold.

Soon, they entered a smaller chamber. There were only a few people inside — all of them among the strongest and most important champions of the Sword Army.

The King of Swords himself was sitting on an unadorned chair that had been carved out of stone, wearing a cold expression. Morgan was standing behind him, her usual air of polite amusement gone. Nephis was leaning against a wall, her white armor smeared with ash.

Sunny spared her a brief glance, then looked away.

There were three other Saints of the Sword Army in the chamber — Sky Tide, Summer Knight, and Sir Jest of Dagonet.

There was one more person, as well.

A handsome man was kneeling in front of the stone throne, his sunken face marked by pain and fatigue. His presence possessed a mystifying depth to it, as if most of him was hidden from sight.

His dark armor, crafted from the skin of some dreadful leviathan, was severely damaged and bloodied.

The man had his head lowered, so Sunny could not see his eyes. However, his black hair, strangely enough, had slight accents of dark blue.

Sunny's expression changed as he recognized his former friend and comrade, Saint Naeve of the House of Night.

Cassie, meanwhile, bowed deeply. "I brought him, Your Majesty."

Anvil spared her a glance and nodded. "Just in time."

With that, he shifted his gaze to the Nightwalker, remained silent for a few moments, and then asked in a cold, heavy tone:

"So, Saint Naeve. I've brought you and your people here, just as you requested. Now, I think, it's time that you give me an explanation. There are reports that the armada of the House of Night is on the move. Night Garden itself has set sail. So, tell me... what, exactly, are your elders scheming?"

Naeve shivered slightly and lingered for a while, as if gathering courage.

Eventually, he took a deep breath, straightened, and looked the King of Swords straight in the eyes.

When he spoke, his voice sounded firm:

"You are mistaken, Supreme Anvil. My elders are not scheming anything. In fact... they are dead."

Naeve paused for a moment, and then added hoarsely:

"They have all been... turned. The House of Night is no more."