Now we are given a perspective from outside the nightmare. Sunny and Dawn lie motionless, strapped to peculiar, ominous beds reminiscent of a mental hospital's cold sterility. The air is heavy, and silence reigns, interrupted only by the sound of distant winds.
Standing vigil over them is a woman. Her presence is as commanding as it is enigmatic. She is power and beauty incarnate, with short, sharp hair and eyes that could pierce through the darkest shadow.
Suddenly, Sunny stirs. His body twitches as though caught between realms, his face tightening in distress. The woman's gaze sharpens; for a fleeting moment, concern flashes in her eyes. Then she steels herself—calm, composed, unshaken.
As Sunny finally breaks free from the grip of his nightmare, we see it in his eyes—he made it. He conquered the shadowed torment.
The first thing he does, still disoriented, is turn toward Dawn. His face falls as he sees his brother-in-arms still trapped in unconscious limbo. His voice trembles with raw emotion as he calls out, "Dawn…are you okay?" The silence that follows feels deafening.
The woman interjects with a voice that is both soothing and cutting: "Don't waste your breath, kid. He's still asleep. He hasn't died yet—that much I can promise—but he's not waking up anytime soon. A day, maybe two. Who knows?"
Sunny's heart clenches, but despair has no room to settle. A fiery determination takes its place. "He'll make it," he mutters to himself, conviction burning in his tone. "He's too stubborn to give up. He'd put his life on the line for anyone…and still find a way to survive."
Then, as though suddenly realizing the magnitude of their situation, Sunny studies the woman. His eyes narrow, scanning her attire—every detail. And in that moment, he knows who she is.
"A Master…an Ascendant," he whispers in awe. "You're a legend…"
The woman's lips curl into a wry smile. "Guess the secret's out. Normally, we don't get involved with people like you—ordinary kids. But the solstice is upon us. Gates are opening everywhere, chaos is spreading, and someone has to clean up the mess. Since no one else was awake to pull you out of your nightmare, well, here I am."
Sunny nods slowly, his mind racing. "How long…how long have we been out?"
"Three days," she answers simply. "Give or take a few hours. Time doesn't matter much in this world."
The way she speaks—effortlessly cool, unshaken—momentarily mesmerizes him. But he snaps out of it and manages to ask, "What's your name?"
"Jet. Master Jet, at your service," she says with a playful salute, though there's a glimmer of solemnity in her eyes.
Sunny exhales. "Thank you…for taking care of me. But what about Dawn? Are you going to stay and watch him, or will someone else take over?"
"I'll stay," Jet replies, her tone firm but kind. "Unless I'm called somewhere else. For now, neither of you will leave my sight."
Sunny hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. "He's…my brother, you know. Not by blood, but in every way that matters. We saved each other's lives so many times that we stopped keeping score. Over time, he just…he just became family."
A flicker of warmth softens Jet's fierce exterior. "I was looking at your files earlier," she says, her voice lowering. "Both from the outskirts…like me. Guess some rats really do survive, huh?"
Sunny chuckles softly, though the weight of their shared pain lingers. "Dawn would probably tell you to knock it off with the 'doom and gloom' stuff. He always said there's no more doom—not for now, anyway."
Jet's expression darkens slightly. "Do you think he'll make it through his nightmare?"
"He will," Sunny replies, almost defiantly. "He has to. The bastard still owes me."
Jet smirks, but behind her eyes lies an ocean of concern. She's been in this game far too long, seen too much. Hope—it's a fragile thing, dangerous in its potential to shatter.
"Let's hope," she murmurs, her voice quieter than before. "Because his nightmare isn't over."
---
Back in the nightmare, Dawn stumbles forward on a treacherous gravel path, clutching a tattered map. The road twists and turns toward a towering, snow-capped mountain. At its base, a cavernous maw looms—a cave, dark as the abyss.
Fear has etched itself into every line of Dawn's face. He knows one wrong step, one fleeting hesitation, could mean the end. Yet, he presses on, the echo of words from days past anchoring his resolve: "Death is not to be feared. It is to be accepted."
He clutches the Amulet of Night tightly around his neck. Its power wraps him in a shroud of concealment, but even that comfort is fleeting. Every step deeper into the cave feels like stepping into the jaws of an unseen predator.
"Moonwalker!" Dawn's voice cracks as it echoes into the void. "I know you're here. Show yourself!"
Two glowing eyes appear—soulless, empty—piercing through the darkness. Slowly, a mangled form emerges, its grotesque grin stretching unnaturally as it surveys its prey.
"So," the creature hisses, its decrepit voice barely human. "The villagers send me another offering. Will you scream as they did? Or will you entertain me?"
Dawn swallows his terror. "Catch me if you can!" he shouts, though his voice quivers with unspoken dread.
The abomination lets out a low, sinister laugh—a sound that chills to the bone. "Oh, we'll have fun, little one," it growls. "Run. Run as fast as you can."
As Dawn's legs burned with searing agony, his lungs gasping for air, he caught sight of the temple in the distance—a beacon of hope, glowing faintly through the encroaching darkness.
But there was no time to relish the sight. The shadowy abomination loomed behind him, closing the gap with terrifying speed. Its grotesque form twisted unnaturally, each movement exuding malice and death. Dawn's heart thundered in his chest as the thought gripped him: *Is this where it ends? Is this where I die?*
The bitter cold of fear wrapped around him, but somewhere deep within, a spark of defiance ignited. He clenched his fists around the hilt of the Dawnbreaker sword, his mind screaming to run, even as his body threatened to give out. The shadow's guttural growls grew louder, almost mocking him as it prepared to strike the killing blow.
And yet, against all odds, Dawn pushed forward. Each step felt like dragging chains uphill, but he forced his legs to move, knowing that giving up would mean surrendering not only his life but the hopes of those who depended on him.
The abomination lunged, its grotesque claws reaching for him, and he stumbled. Was this truly the end?
Thinking quickly on his feet, Dawn swung the katana known as the Dawnbreaker with all the desperation he could muster. His arms burned, his breaths came in ragged gasps, but the blade struck true. The creature recoiled with a guttural hiss, black ichor dripping from the wound as it glared at him, seething.
For the first time, Dawn saw hesitation flicker across its twisted, malevolent features. And in that fleeting moment, he seized his chance. With everything he had left, he sprinted toward the temple. Each step was agony, his legs like lead, his lungs on fire—but he didn't stop. He couldn't.
The gates of the temple loomed before him, towering and radiant. As he stumbled through, a brilliant figure of light emerged from the shadows, its very presence exuding power and grace. Dawn barely had time to process its arrival before it clashed violently with the abomination. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, forcing Dawn to shield his face from the blinding light.
But his body had reached its limit. The exhaustion, the terror, the crushing weight of his responsibilities—all of it came crashing down. He sank to his knees, his vision blurring as the battle raged on behind him.
He thought of Sunny. The memories of their bond—the laughter, the struggles, the unspoken promises—were the only thing keeping him tethered to consciousness. And yet, even that wasn't enough.
Another deafening shockwave tore through the temple, and everything went silent. For a moment, there was only darkness.
But in the abyss of his mind, a faint warmth stirred. A light, distant yet resolute, seemed to call out to him, urging him to rise again. Whether it was the temple, the figure of light, or something deep within himself, Dawn couldn't tell. All he knew was that he couldn't give up—not yet. Not while there was still hope.
And then, just as the light seemed to grow brighter, everything faded to black.