Some time later, Sunny was back in his luxurious cabin, sitting on the soft bed and staring at the wall with a distant look on his bestial face.
After the dinner conversation that was rife with revelations, each more terrible than the other, he had told Noctis that he needed time to think before giving an answer. Despite the fact that Sunny now held the keys to possessing two of Sun God's knives, the sorcerer had not pressed him at all and agreed to wait with his usual carefree attitude.
If there was one redeeming quality about the immortals, it was that they could be very patient.
Now, the flying ship was moving, sailing across the skies on its way back to the Sanctuary of Noctis. They would be arriving in a day or two… by then, Sunny needed to know what he wanted to do, and how.
He had to find the others, and conquer this cursed Nightmare, somehow.
Help Noctis free Hope, or make sure that she stays imprisoned forever?
A pale smile appeared on his face.
Hope… how funny it was, to learn that this whole realm had been driven mad by the subtle, irresistible, inescapable manipulation of the great and terrible Demon of Desire. Everyone here was subjugated by her wondrous, harrowing powers. Including himself.
Back in the Dark City, at his lowest point, Sunny had given all hope of ever returning to the real world. In fact, he had convinced himself that hope was the deadliest, most vile of poisons. It was only after he had clawed his way back from the brink of madness and out of the Forgotten Shore, returning alive to the waking world, that he understood the erroneous and destructive harmfulness of that misguided belief.
Sunny had built a modest life for himself and found out that there were people who genuinely cared about him... and even more importantly, that there were people whom he cared about himself. That hope was not something to fear, but instead something to draw power from. Something so vital that without it, there was no way to survive, and no real point, too.
…So, learning that his mind was now literally being poisoned by Hope was full of incredible, incredibly bitter irony.
'How fitting…'
He sighed, and then stared at his four calloused hands.
The obsidian knife, the ivory knife… the glass knife, the wooden knife… and one more, which he knew nothing about. Could they really collect them all? Noctis, Solvane, the Sun Twins, the One in the North… could they really survive them all?
Whether he liked it or not, there was only one inevitable way to find out.
First things thirst… he was going to have to make his way to the Iron Hand island to see if the others had left clues to their whereabouts. Luckily, it was not that far from the Sanctuary. Noctis had said that Sunny's new heart needed a week or two to settle — whatever that meant — so he wouldn't be able to go right away. But the goal was already in sight.
After the cohort was reunited, they would have to make a decision about which side to support.
The others… Sunny wondered where they were, and how they were doing. Were they even alive? Had their journey in the Nightmare been as harrowing as his?
Recalling his own struggles, he shivered.
The nightmares… most of them had faded from his memory, their details dissipating until all that was left was one dark, chaotic mess of vague images, pressing weight, and sharp emotions. But some were still clear and vivid in all their terrible splendor, especially the first ones he had lived through.
He remembered it all… being a father who watched the flames consume his son, wife, and unborn child… an old man who dragged his weak body across scorching ash as his whole world burned around him… an immortal warrior being endlessly tortured by his own brother… and a cunning shadow who had grown too tired and indifferent to care about life.
That last one was, perhaps, the most damning. Not because it was especially torturous — on the contrary, the Shadow Lord had been content and at peace in his last moments — but because it showed Sunny the pain and sorrow of those whom the heartless immortal had left behind.
That understanding was only made worse by witnessing how the Shadow's beloved steed had ended up… lonesome, broken, and consumed by madness, guarding the empty castle that his master would never return to until his last pitiful breath.
But that was the nature of life. As one went through it, they collected strings and tethers that connected them to others. Everyone's fates were intertwined, and everyone was tied down and bound by those numerous connections, some of them fleeting, some deep and precious. Sunny, too, was not untethered anymore.
Which meant that, should he die or be destroyed, his would not be the only fate that was broken and damaged. Everyone connected to him would suffer, too. And that… that, in a way, made him responsible not only for himself, but also for those whose lives he had made different. The weight of that unfamiliar responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders.
Sunny sighed.
Was there… was there really such a thing as freedom? And if there was… would anyone really want to possess it?
He closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by all these daunting thoughts. Even though he had forgotten most of the nightmares, they still changed him. He felt… older, somehow, and — hopefully — wiser. More mature and tempered… but also more fragile.
He spent some time in silence, listening to the hull of the flying ship creaking gently around him and his two hearts beating steadily in his chest.
Then, Sunny breathed out and opened his eyes.
There was not much time to spend on pondering and self-reflection. A Nightmare was a place for action, not philosophy.
The corner of his mouth curved upward.
'Fine… let's get ready to act, then. First, I should probably — finally! — check on all those rewards I received, thanks to that damned horse!"
And there were plenty…
