The Void Gate stood wide open, now.
Sunny was mercifully blind, so he could not see what Weaver saw when they gazed beyond the Gate.
The Demon of Fate laughed again.
"Now. One final trick."
But before the cunning daemon could do anything, a bone blade pierced their back, tore through their flesh, and severed their shadow before exiting in a fountain of ichor from their chest.
Weaver staggered and glanced back.
There, a woman in bloodied armor was holding the hilt of a bone dagger, life rapidly draining from her cold, dark eyes. Her face was hidden behind a tattered, torn veil, but the daemon still recognized her.
"You."
The two of them fell down at the same time. Golden ichor and crimson blood mixed before being swallowed by the obsidian dust.
The woman's lips twisted into a vicious smile behind the torn veil. She twisted the dagger with a faltering hand, then grew still, still smiling. Her eyes dimmed, turning hollow and glassy.
She was dead. The Demon of Fate was not going to survive much longer, either.
A deep sigh resounded from behind the mask.
Looking at the dead woman, Weaver drew one last, arduous breath.
".You are just in time."
The last thing Sunny saw startled and confused him, because it did not make much sense at all. He found himself in an endless black void illuminated by a myriad of stars. Some of the stars were small and dim, while some were great and radiant. Some were connected by strings of silver light, while most were isolated from each other by the vast expanse of empty darkness.
By then, something changed.
Seven radiant stars suddenly blazed in the void, and as strings of silver light extended from them to countless others, there was suddenly a pattern to them all. Anchored in the seven stars, the tapestry of silver light expanded, consuming more and more of the smaller stars.
And then, it extended its tendrils to the great stars that burned as brightly as the seven that had served as the catalyst to the explosion of silver strings. There were eleven constellations of them, and by the time the tendrils of silver light reached them, it was already too late to react.
By then, the tapestry had already become too vast, having consumed perhaps myriad smaller stars - all of them, possibly - and so, the constellations could not resist. They still tried, naturally.
In the end, the tendrils of silver strings enveloped and consumed them, absorbing them into the tapestry of light.
Casting a Spell upon the Void.
Sunny gasped.
And then. One last truth poured into him, permeating his flesh and rewriting its very nature on the fundamental level. That last truth was the fragment of Weaver's legacy.
'Oh, hell.'
The pain was exquisite.
[End of Part I: Death Game.]