What Needed to Be Done in Sunstone
He gave us much and asked for little. I was able to find love and peace even without the light that offered none. Yet the light did not die with a whisper; it still burns like a sun. So the shadow must learn how to eat the sun, so that any who look down to see shadows will now see none.
—Fragmented thoughts from Tom's reflections
Tom walked casually into the knight quarters. This wasn’t his first visit, but it would be his last. He had bigger fish to fry and knew the bishop was coming. Even as the slums converted to seeing the truth of Abaddon, he’d been planting drops of darkness everywhere, replacing the rot with a purer blight that shared its sight. It helped hunt those who thought they whispered in secret of betrayal, only to be caught and shown they were not as safe as they thought.
He was proud of Terra for that—she was ruthless in embracing the dark, to the point his old self would have feared her. Now, he felt only pride; she was on his side. A few knights bowed as he passed; the rest looked away, afraid, knowing an event was about to take place and too fearful to act.
Only one followed beside him as he passed—a timid man he knew from his early knighthood, a bit frail and often overlooked, but perfect for this task.
The man’s name was Eric, and he had embraced the dark. Even now, his small frame was bulking up, and he was getting a little taller, but the real change would come assuming the knight captain did not change his mind.
He had offered the captain a choice last time, and it seemed he’d chosen their side until the bishop ordered a raid on the slums to beat those they found and forced the guards to join before they could intervene. Now, Tom was ensuring the captain would no longer be an issue.
They entered the room where the captain was doing paperwork—some of it necessary, if not for the king, then for helping the thieves’ guild operate. Tom was aware of them, and they were his next step, which was why he wasn’t staying here.
"I already know the shit you’re going to give me, so save your breath," the captain said without looking up, sensing Tom’s presence—nobody else would waltz in without waiting to be called.
He kept writing, saying no more, as if showing how little Tom mattered, or perhaps wanting him to act so he could call the knights for insubordination. But Tom waited to hear what he’d say next. It was already clear how this would end, but listening wouldn’t hurt. He sat, smiling, eager to hear.
The captain looked up, mildly surprised Tom was still there, and frowned, noting Eric’s presence but addressing Tom first. "As I said, the bishop talked to me, and I agree with him. The light does not ask, so neither do I. Comprehend?"
Tom waited, hoping that wasn’t his whole speech—it wasn’t much, to be honest—so he asked, "Is that all? I gave you a choice, so you know you made yours."
"Don’t threaten me, you little shit," the captain said, staring him down, anger building. "You think I didn’t notice you turning my men against me somehow, getting others to disappear while you address me? You think it’s that easy to win?" He looked at Tom as if he were too dense to understand, tempted to repeat himself.
"The men are dead. I killed them," Tom said plainly, and for the first time, the captain’s face showed surprise and fear.
"You think you won’t hang for even lying about that? And if true, the light will get you," the captain said, as if it decided Tom’s fate, but Tom wasn’t here for that, and he had a schedule.
He shifted his hand to darkness below his chair, and it flowed to the captain’s seat, wrapping his legs, arms, and part of his face before the captain noticed the first grasps of darkness upon his form. The panic in his eyes was deep fear—Tom wondered what he would scream if given a choice, perhaps beg to choose again now that he knew better.
"I gave all the same choice I gave you. No lies. No force. Just a choice. You, like them, chose the light. So now let me show you, with your last moments, those who chose the dark."
Eric’s eyes shone with life and joy, knowing what he was about to do as he watched Tom’s arm morph and wrap the captain.
"Be quick and quiet. The bishop will be here soon—the real test is if you can deter him," Tom said.
Eric nodded quickly, eager to prove his worth but even more eager to try his new form.
When Eric embraced the dark, he wanted to change, hating his human form and always fascinated with the possibility of being a monster. True, to live among humans, he needed a human guise, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep it as a mask while crafting a new one.
Back when he’d helped garrison the rot lands, he’d watched monsters approach the walls, testing defenses, only to become infected by the rot before leaving for parts unknown or fleeing, dodging arrows when too stubborn or foolish to retreat. He never learned their ultimate fate beyond seeing the infection take hold. If he’d known it wouldn’t kill them, he would have embraced it long ago, risking the rot for the power and freedom it promised, unlike the meekness of praying to a god of light that let him be beaten with indifference, barely a step above the slum rats. It was nearly a fluke he wasn’t still on that garrison, recalling the day the champion declared knights shouldn’t be among the rot and had more worth in the city. After that, guarding the rot lands was left to lower-class guards and failures unworthy of the city’s safety, however little it offered.
Eric wanted to experiment, to push his new form to its limits, to savor and feast on the captain’s flesh, but time was short, and this was a test—could he do it quickly?
He took a page from Tom’s hunts with the knights, where Tom would morph only his arm to remove targets discreetly. So Eric tried shifting his arm into a snake, feeling it come alive, thrilled at the idea of a monster becoming one with him. He thrust it into the captain’s stomach, slowly gorging on his entrails. It was fascinating to taste what his arm did, and he wanted to experiment more and keep the captain alive.
"Eric." Tom’s voice made him flinch—he was taking too long.
"Sorry, sir." The snake morphed into a slime mass, dissolving the flesh it touched, absorbing it into his form. The captain had died from the stress long before being gouged from the center up. Eric wanted him to suffer more for his cowardice, for not just embracing the light but letting them suffer with indifference.
The body was gone, leaving no traces but a faint blood scent as Eric relished the increase in mass, knowing it would help reform his body—taller, perhaps broader-shouldered. Then he noticed Tom moving away.
Tom stood in the left corner behind the door, which he opened, surprising Eric. In the hall, he saw why—the bishop was coming.
Eric sat, preparing for the true test of his worth. They could kill the bishop, but that would draw the goddess’s attention. Even if it didn’t, it would raise questions they weren’t ready to face. No, they needed to keep this hidden a bit longer.
The bishop stormed in, looking around in confusion. Eric worried he might look behind the door or close it, so he spoke to get his attention. "I’m the new captain. Can I help you, bishop?"
The bishop jerked, startled at being addressed. "You?" he asked, as if it were an absurdity he refused to accept. "Where’s the one we appointed?"
That explained why the captain was so loyal to the light—he was their pawn. "He quit, said he was tired of the light’s shit." Eric saw the shock on the bishop’s face and held back a smile—this was a serious moment, and he was pushing his luck.
"His words, sir. That’s how he left us for unknown places." The bishop, still stunned, finally sat, needing a moment to process.
"It seems we were too lax even here. The light has been too permissive. How far has the rot spread?" Eric flinched, unsure if the bishop guessed something or was lamenting his own losses. Seeing as he sat without running in fear, Eric assumed it was just the bishop disliking his loss of power.
"Well, child, be blessed. We will welcome you, and the goddess has a task. The whores think to make a new brothel, and the guards defend them. You need to address both," the bishop said, recovering and stating his purpose.
Eric knew this was where he needed to be careful—he was now in a position of power, and the test was whether he was a mad dog or a loyal one who understood what it meant to have a loving master.
Since he could choose, he preferred this master over the light, which didn’t even see him as worth considering. "We understand how you feel, sir, but the last captain left us many issues that need addressing before we can worry about what’s happening here."
"What?" The bishop’s face reddened. "The light shows you mercy, and you return her kindness by letting whores run free, guards ignore what goes on in the streets, and you undermine me?"
Eric struggled not to laugh, keeping a calm face. "The thieves’ guild is spreading, and the king has sent us tasks we cannot discuss, but I assure you we are listening and will do our best."
The bishop’s flabbergasted expression showed he was unaccustomed to being disobeyed, but Eric watched as his eyes narrowed, he nodded slowly, and left.
That was bad—Eric knew the worst beatings came not from yelling but from the silent ones who waited to strike. Even with the dark’s blessing and Tom watching his back, he couldn’t shake the feeling this could end badly, and he now understood why Tom played coy instead of waging all-out war.
"As long as you know what we face, you’ll be fine. Abaddon is with us," Tom said once the bishop was gone.
Eric was nervous now that he held real power. He’d always wanted it, but now it felt strange. Oddly, the monster change was no big deal; he embraced it like rot to water. But being in charge, not just a mindless killer? That carried weight and was scarier.
He watched as Tom, confident in his ability, left to address other matters.
Eric’s smile bloomed as he felt the eyes within him. Don’t worry, lord. I will lead those you desire to salvation, and the rest... Well, I still hunger.
The knights watched Tom leave without the old captain, with Eric now in command. They knew, as always: don’t ask questions and be glad you chose the side that still saw them as worth salvaging, unlike the side facing a slowly fading light, like the last clean water disappearing into the sea of rot.
and then Add to home screen.