After more than three weeks of falling into the Sky Below — at least Sunny thought that it had been that long — he sighed and stood up, balancing on the dangerously swaying treasure chest.
His hair was wet with sweat, and his skin glistened in the piercing white light of approaching stars. By now, they did not resemble white dots in the boundless darkness of the abyss. Instead, each was the size of a fist, surrounded by a furious, blinding halo.
The heat permeating the void was suffocating.
Sunny stared down, at the ocean of white flames beneath him. If this was what remained of the inferno of heavenly fire after thousands of years of burning in an empty void… he shuddered to imagine what it must have looked like right after the hammer of divine punishment had fallen on the ancient land.
His gaze was locked on a small empty space between several radiant stars.
The rift.
This was his goal.
