Sunny walked through the empty halls of his castle, shrouded in shadows. Wherever he passed, the pale radiance of moonlight disappeared, devoured by the tide of flowing darkness. His steps were silent, and so were his thoughts.
Raising a hand clad in a glove of black silk, he traced his fingers across the intricate engravings, not caring to remember the events depicted on the ancient stone walls. They were his triumphs and his victories, etched into the annals of history… but all of it was so distant and had happened so long ago, at the dawn of the Age of Heroes.
He had been a hero once, too, battling the remnants of the Corruption across the mortal realms. He had been cunning and fearless, valiant and unrelenting, full of faith and hope.
…The Age of Heroes was over, but Sunny still remained.
By now, all of his servants and warriors had long left, taking the treasures he did not care about anymore with them. The halls of the castle were populated by shadows, and nothing else.
