"So he was dead, after all."

Neph's even voice sounded like a dull blade. She remained motionless for a long while, then slowly approached the weathered skeleton.

A soft sigh escaped from her lips.

She stayed silent, then asked in a quiet whisper:

“Why are you lying here all alone?"

Sunny kept quiet, as well, still looking at the tall shadow that the remains of Broken Sword cast.

The shadow of Weaver.

Then, he slowly pulled his gaze away and looked at Nephis.

Her pale face was smeared in blood and dust, gaunt from fatigue. The white sparks that usually danced in the depths of her eyes were gone, and her lips were pressed into a line. Her gaze was both intense and distant.

Sunny turned to look at the weathered bones, too.

This was Broken Sword... the legendary, glorious Broken Sword — one of the greatest, if not the greatest, heroes of humanity. A swordsman of sublime skill and talent, as well as an Awakened whose power had paved the way for all humans to follow. A man who had conquered the Third Nightmare before anyone even knew what a Saint was. A man who had become a Sovereign while humanity was still reaching toward the seemingly insurmountable peak of Transcendence.

...A man who had been betrayed by his comrades and slain in the lightless depths of the Underworld, never to see the light of day again.

Sunny had hoped until the last moment that, somehow, Broken Sword would still be alive. The legendary warrior of the human race was just that kind of person — someone who was larger than life. How could death claim him so easily?

But in the end, Sunny's hopes had been for naught. No matter how ingenious and powerful Broken Sword had been, death still claimed him, like it claimed everyone else. The betrayal of the Dreamspawn, Anvil of Valor, and Ki Song... Aster, Song, and Vale... had achieved its goal, setting everything that had happened since in motion.

Neph's lonely and nightmarish upbringing, the Forgotten Shore, the clash of Song and Valor forces in Antarctica, the Tomb of Ariel, Godgrave, the return of the Dreamspawn and his eventual fall...

It had all started here, from that man.

From his bitter, lonesome death.

How would history have turned out if he had survived?

Sunny did not know.

Would things have been different if Broken Sword had not discovered Shadow Weave while pursuing Apotheosis, thus forcing the hands of his companions?

Sunny did not know that, either. Perhaps the Sovereigns would have betrayed him, anyway. Gods knew, the Dreamspawn certainly had been harboring sinister ideas, and Anvil had not needed a reason to disdain Broken Sword — he had only needed an excuse.

But none of that mattered now, since all of them were gone.

Broken Sword was gone, as well... had been gone for a long, long time.

His death was avenged, and the three traitors who had killed him were slain or sealed by his daughter.

Justice had prevailed, and the Immortal Flame clan still thrived.

And yet...

Looking at the bones of the first Sovereign, Sunny could not help but feel mournful. That sense of melancholy overpowered even the terror that was squeezing his heart, making him sigh heavily.

Everyone deserved better than what the Age of the Nightmare Spell offered them, but Broken Sword especially did not deserve to have died alone in this dark, desolate, dreadful pit.

‘Damn it all.’

Nephis, meanwhile, knelt near the remains of her father and touched his skull gently, as if brushing his cheek.

She did not say anything, looking down with a distant expression.

After a while, though, she spoke:

"What am I meant to say? Should I tell him that I've dealt with the people who killed him?"

She paused for a few moments, and then smiled bitterly.

“Or should I ask why he abandoned me, all those years ago? Four years old... did he really have to leave for the next Nightmare so soon?"

Sighing heavily, Nephis shook her head.

“Our family was already on the verge of collapse after my mother and grandfather perished. But he did not get to see how everything rotted and collapsed after his disappearance... how our retainers all left one after another or were killed. How our fortune dwindled, until it was entirely gone. How my grandmother grew older and older under the crushing weight of being hunted by his former friends. Until she was gone, as well."

Nephis brushed her fingers across Broken Sword's skull once more, then sighed again. Her voice sounded wistful.

“It's so easy, being dead."

Despite the harsh words, her gaze was strangely tender.

After a long pause, she added:

“But still. He tried... he tried his best. He did it earnestly. It must have been so hard, to do everything he did.”

She lingered for a moment, then smiled.

“In my mind, he has always been a giant. But now that I think about it... he must have felt pain the same way I do. He must have felt sorrow and despair the same way I do. He was even younger than I am today when he died. So what can I say to him?"

Nephis hesitated, and then bowed slightly to the weathered bones.

“Rest well now, my father. Your nightmare is over."

Sunny stayed still for a while, then bowed, as well.

He remained bowed for some time, then straightened and looked at the cracked sword rising from the stone and the lantern hanging from its crossguard.

Why were they here?

The answer... was obvious. Broken Sword had made his way to the edge of the Abyss so that no one could find him. But then, he left a lantern to illuminate his final resting place... so that his shadow remained. Shadows could not exist without light, after all.

Which meant that, somehow, he had known that someone would come to collect the fragment of Weaver's Lineage one day — that someone would need it one day. And he had not wanted it to fall into the wrong hands.

What had Broken Sword known that Sunny did not?

And who was it that Broken Sword had wanted to recover his legacy?

There were no answers, and there would probably never be.

Nephis remained silent for a few moments, and then said quietly:

“We shouldn't linger, so it would be wise to do what you wanted to do fast. I'll take... his bones after you're done. He should be buried with the rest of my family. Actually, most of those graves are empty... but now, there will be one less."

Sunny nodded slowly and then approached the towering shadow of Weaver.

Throwing a guarded look into the dark chasm, he hesitated for a moment...

And then reached toward the shadow, drawing it into his soul.

It responded to his call without resistance. In the next moment, Sunny shuddered.

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