Starborn silence

Kanah Village was quiet now.

After the mind games, the blood, the unraveling of memories and the revelation of Sunny's dormant powers—there was silence. A silence too heavy to be peaceful. The kind that clung to your skin, the kind that whispered, "Something is coming."

Sunny stood on the edge of the forest, the wind brushing against his hair. His body still ached from the mental trial… but it wasn't just fatigue. It was confusion. Doubt.

He remembered things—scattered, broken images from other people's lives. Pain that wasn't his. Screams. Betrayals. A girl crying beneath a red moon. A hand reaching out… then letting go.

None of it made sense.

But one thing was clear: not all of his memories belonged to him.

He clenched his fists. If my past is a lie… then who am I really?

Behind him, the villagers slowly began to repair their shattered homes and their shaken trust. Life was resuming. But beneath the surface, an undercurrent of fear remained. They had seen something unnatural in Sunny—something that frightened even the bravest among them.

Still, they were grateful. He had saved them.

And yet… he felt like a stranger among them now.

As he walked toward the village's central shrine—an ancient, crumbling structure said to be older than the kingdom itself—he was joined by an old man. Blind in one eye, hunched and wrapped in robes too large for his frail frame.

"You saw the truth, didn't you?" the elder asked without turning his head.

Sunny looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"The memories," the old man said. "They weren't dreams. This land… it doesn't forget. It stores every pain, every sin. Sometimes, when a soul like yours walks into its heart, it listens. And it shows you what it remembers."

"Why me?"

"Because something inside you is unsealed," the old man said quietly. "And whatever you saw? That was only a glimpse. Just the surface."

Sunny's breath caught.

Unsealed?

A surge of energy flickered inside him, wild and ancient.

He was changing. Or maybe… he was returning to what he was always meant to become.

Before he could speak, the sky darkened slightly—as if the clouds themselves held their breath.

From far away, hidden by the hills and shadows, a presence watched. Cold. Calculating.

Lysander.

He whispered a name, almost fondly.

"…Sunny."