Soon, Sunny was walking on the last chain he had to traverse as he approached the Sanctuary of Noctis.
By then, it was already night. Up above, the pale disk of the crescent moon shone softly, its light reflecting off the white walls of the Ivory Tower. Countless stars shimmered on the dark velvet tapestry of the night sky. Without the light pollution that the giant city where Sunny had grown up produced, they were beautiful and bright.
There had not been any stars on the Forgotten Shore, as well, so this sight was still new and breathtaking to him.
Now that it was night, the border between the Sky Above and the Sky Below was almost invisible. The empty void beneath the Isles had stars of its own, so it seemed like the reflection of the real sky during these hours. The only difference between them was that it lacked both the moon and the ethereal silhouette of a graceful white tower floating through the clouds.
The chain swayed lightly as Sunny walked. He felt reluctant to use Shadow Step this close to the Sanctuary and enjoyed the sight of the night sky, the smell of clean air, and the cool embrace of the wind. So he tended to complete this last part of the return journey on foot.
…Even hell could be beautiful, sometimes.
A few minutes later, Sunny heard the murmur of flowing water and knew that the Sanctuary was already close.
The Citadel that served most Awakened of the Chained Isles as home was situated on a tiny island of its own. That island, however, was rather anomalous: unlike all others, it never rose and never fell, always remaining at a stable height, away from the torturous pressure of the Crushing.
There was a grass field, and in its center, massive menhirs stood in a perfect circle, which encompassed another, smaller one. This larger circle formed the outer wall of the Citadel, while the smaller one formed the inner.
Inside the circle, there was a tranquil park with a pool of clear water in its middle. A path of stones led to a small island at the center of the pool, where, in the shade of an ancient tree, an altar cut from a solid piece of white marble stood.
The altar had three special things about it.
The first one was an obsidian knife that lay on its surface. The knife did not seem very special, with the exception of the fact that no one — not even Saints — could lift it even by a centimeter from the altar's surface.
The second special thing about the altar was that it appeared to be, itself, the Gateway. One simply had to touch it to be transported back to the real world. Once anchored to it, the Awakened would appear near the altar when they fell asleep in reality.
The third thing was that a seemingly endless stream of water flowed from the altar, feeding the pool that surrounded it. No one knew where the water came from or why the altar produced it, just that it was cold, sweet, and safe to drink.
Seven streams flowed out of the pool and eventually fell over the edges of the small island, turning into water mist in the wind. On a bright day, the whole Sanctuary was surrounded by rainbows.
It was the murmur of these waterfalls that Sunny had heard as he approached the Citadel.
Using the Dark Wing to glide upward and land on the soft grass of the island, he walked over to a stone post that stood nearby and rang the bronze bell that hung on it. This was to let the watchmen know that he was a human and not a Nightmare Creature that needed to be destroyed.
Soon, a whistle came out of the darkness, and Sunny walked forward on a path that led to the towering menhirs.
A few minutes later, he had walked between two massive stones and entered the Sanctuary of Noctis.
No one really knew who Noctis was, and why this place was called in their honor… if that name even belonged to a living creature. It was just what the Spell called this place, so humans followed suit.
In any case, the space between the two rings of menhirs had been made into a place for the Awakened to rest and recuperate between their ventures into the wild expanse of the Chained Isles.
The White Feather clan had built walls to close the spaces between the standing stones, and recruited several people with useful utility Aspects to make living conditions better for those who chose to come here or were sent to this region by the Spell.
Currently, there were about two hundred Awakened populating the Sanctuary, which was enough to keep it functioning and safe.
This late at night, most people were either sleeping, resting, or had already returned to the real world, so Sunny did not meet anyone as he headed toward his assigned living quarters.
Like everybody else here, he was assigned a small room after becoming anchored to the Sanctuary. It was situated near one of two entrances, so he didn't have to walk for a long time.
Entering the room, Sunny quickly took off his pack and placed his trophies — a scattering of soul shards, a few weird-looking fruits, and the golden coin — into a chest standing near the bed. Then he threw the pack on the floor, lingered for a few moments, and left.
Usually, he would have stayed until the morning and went to either the kitchens or the improvised marketplace at the park to trade the shards for Memories or credits, chat with other Awakened to learn the latest news and important information about the Isles, or simply relax… but today, he had to hurry to the real world.
Entering the park, Sunny approached the deep pool of clear water and stepped onto the first stone of the path that led to the Altar Island.
Soon, he was standing in front of the white altar, surrounded by the tranquil sound of rustling leaves and running water. Glancing at the obsidian dagger, Sunny resisted the urge to try and lift it. He had already done so many times before, all with no result whatsoever.
'...Maybe one day.'
With a sigh, he took a step forward and placed his hand on the altar.
The marble felt cool to the touch.
In the next moment, the darkness of the night was momentarily illuminated by a flash of ethereal blue light. When it dissipated, there was no one standing under the branches of the ancient tree.
Sunny had left the Dream Realm and returned to the real world.