The next morning, his new life as a candidate receptacle truly began.
Sunny's daily routine settled into a steady, rhythmic pace.
Each morning, he woke to the sight of the twin maidservants, Eva and Ava. Initially, the lack of privacy and the constant attention made his skin crawl, but as the days bled into one another, he began to adapt. Still, he couldn't remember which was which to save his life.
'Should I ask for their names again? Nah! Better not. This is already the seventh time this week... and today is Tuesday.'
With their help, he was quickly washed, dressed, and fed. Because of Thene's relentless "bedtime" jokes, the twins clearly felt a duty to offer him more than just breakfast. They stood ready to offer themselves with a mix of fear and devotion, but Sunny always declined with a careful, gentlemanly grace. He didn't want them to feel impure or used; he just wanted to survive the morning without a nervous breakdown.
Early each day, he met Gaston. The High Priest spent hours indoctrinating him, teaching him history, theology, and the heavy weight of his responsibilities.
Surprisingly, Sunny became addicted to the learning process. He had never been a lazy student in his past life, but here, he was a revelation.
He would devour a manuscript and, before he knew it, his hand would already be reaching for the next.
Gaston watched this with a complex whirlwind of emotions. Deep down, a sliver of envy gnawed at the Elder—envy for the divine role Sunny had been granted. Yet, Gaston's genuine passion for teaching and Sunny's commitment soon buried that bitterness. The Elder found a strange, vicarious joy in seeing such a sharp mind.
'I'm not sure what to make of him. On one hand, he's a caring grandfather and a brilliant teacher. On the other, I know he only values me as a receptacle. He hasn't been a narcissistic bastard so far, but still...'
When the shadow of the sundial aligned with the noon mark, Sunny would leave the Elder and head to the training hall, with Eva and Ava trailing behind him like silent white shadows.
Training with Thene was... peculiar, to say the least.
She was tasked with teaching him the art of fencing and the sacred ritual; the Shadow Dance. Whenever their eyes met, the Priestess greeted him with a warm smile, though that haunting hint of melancholy never truly left her onyx eyes.
Thene took every possible opportunity to sharpen her wit at his expense. Her jokes were spicy, stinging, and relentless, and Sunny—Lord help him—had to grit his teeth and endure the onslaught.
Like the time he was sparring with one of the twins and accidentally tripped, pinning Eva to the floor.
"Oh, my! My, my! Didn't you practice that enough last night? Should I leave you two alone to finish?"
'Gods, I wish I'd fallen face-first on a landmine instead!'
Or when she adjusted his stance during a sword swing, purposely pressing her chest against his back.
"You must lift the sword in your hands, Thamriel, not the one underneath. Don't get distracted."
'Don't answer! Don't answer!'
Or when he was focusing intently on the shift of her muscles to read her next move:
"Eyes on the opponent, Thamriel. On the opponent."
'They ARE on the opponent!!!'
Initially, Sunny tried to fire back, but it was like trying to douse a wildfire with gasoline. He eventually learned to just let her talk.
Despite the banter, Thene was a formidable fencer and a meticulous teacher. Her training was intensive, brutal, and flawless. She genuinely cared about him and his progress, even if she insisted on calling him Thamriel—the boy he was currently inhabiting in his First Nightmare.
Over time, he found himself almost looking forward to her teasing. It reminded him of his banters with Jet, though he usually enjoyed watching her turn red. Now, the tables were turned.
'Wait, I'm not that much of a masochist... am I?'
Eventually, Sunny realized that Thene only showed this vibrant, playful side to him, the twins, or Gaston.
The moment anyone else entered the room, she slipped back into her role: the Priestess of Shadows—impassive, distant, and cold. It was a disheartening sight.
It made his heart ache to see her light vanish behind a mask.
There was something deeper between the two of them, an unsaid bond. Whenever he looked into her obsidian eyes, he saw a glimmer of nostalgia mixed with joy. In due time, Sunny wondered if Thene saw him as a younger brother, or if her feelings for "Thamriel" ran even deeper than he could imagine.
'This... I don't really know what to do with this. Should I dig deeper, or just let it slide?'
The days flew by, graceful and thin like petals in the wind.
Despite the looming darkness of the future, Sunny found himself actually enjoying his time in the First Nightmare.
For the first time in his memory in this life, he didn't have to fight for scraps. He didn't have to sleep with one eye open, fearing a blade in the dark.
For one month, he recovered something essential that he had long ago lost:
The serenity of a quiet life.
He felt so good that, for brief moments, he forgot this was all an illusion. Just a Nightmare.
He didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay.
Why wouldn't he?
Here, he wasn't Sunless, the abandoned boy rotting in a cruel world, cursed by Fate.
Here, he was Thamriel, a candidate receptacle for the God of Shadows. His life was filled with beauty, purpose, and fulfilling days.
However, he didn't let the sirens' song pull him under completely.
Outside this dream, Jet was still waiting for him. And within the month, the followers of War would arrive to raze this temple to the ground and enslave its people.
So, he forced himself to remember:
This was just a dream.
A beautiful, sweet dream.
And unfortunately... Sweet dreams never last.
***
One week to go until the siege.
Sunny lay submerged in the warm, healing waters of the Temple baths.
At that moment, he was completely alone.
He could feel his muscles uncoiling in the heat. The delicate scent of bath salts filled his lungs, while the rising steam caressed his pale skin.
Another exhausting day of training had bled into the past, leaving him physically spent.
He had only just managed to dismiss Eva and Ava. He needed time alone with his thoughts.
The twins had hesitated at his command, their eyes lingering with a look that was becoming harder and harder to ignore. After weeks of politely declining their "graces," they had begun to take his refusals personally. What had started as fear had morphed into wounded pride. Now, more than ever, the two seemed determined to finally see him "settled."
Sunny had almost crumbled this time. He liked to think of himself as a man of steeled nerves and unbreakable will, but he was discovering, much to his chagrin, that he was easily drowned by the kindnesses of the fairer sex.
'This is all Thene's fault,' he mused, his head floating blissfully on the surface of the water, his face flushed a deep pink from the heat. 'Her wild pranks have corrupted everyone in this damn temple. Me, the twins... sooner or later, I'm going to have to tell that woman off.'
He stared up at the ceiling, his mind a chaotic mess of intersecting plans and desperate calculations.
'One week left. One week left.'
He repeated the words in his mind, trying to force his brain to find a way out. Should he warn them? Should he stand in the center of the hall and scream that the followers of War were coming to burn it all down?
'If I speak, what changes?' He wondered. 'This is a Nightmare—a dream of a tragedy that ended thousands of years ago. I don't know how the real inhabitants of this temple fought or died. If I deviate too far from the script, if I break the chain of events that leads to the conclusion of the trial... will the Spell ever let me go? Or will I be swallowed by the history I tried to rewrite?'
He bit his lip, the weight of the paradox pressing down on him. To save the people he had grown to care for might mean his own demise. To save himself meant standing by as the smoke of their funeral pyres filled the sky.
Sunny let out a long, ragged sigh, bubbles escaping his lips.
"What a headache."
"Heart problems, young shadow?"
The voice hit him like a sudden arrow, making him jump so violently he nearly swallowed the bathwater. It was a voice as melodious as a fae's and as teasing as a devil's.
Sunny spun around, his eyes wide.
A figure sat on the edge of the pool to his left, draped in the shifting steam. She was a young woman with hair like a cascade of ink and eyes of shining onyx.
And she was completely...
"T-Thene?!"