Missing Oracle

Far away, Sunny — his original body, donning the guise of the charming Master Sunless — was sitting on the edge of the Ivory Island with a resigned smile on his face, suffering in silence.

'D—amn… nation. It's torture.'

His nose was itching. 

It had been itching for what felt like an eternity already, but sadly, he could not scratch it. He could not move at all, really, because the Cloudveil was torn above the warcamp of the Sword Army, drowning the world in a blinding white light. 

The camp stretched below him, resembling a city — there was no movement on the orderly avenues, and the countless people populating it had all turned into motionless statues. Their silhouettes were like black shadows painted on the blurry white backdrop, melting in the stark radiance. 

Mercifully, that was simply because his eyes were tearing up, not because they were turning to ash.