Chapter 1

These were ancient times, too old for a human, mortal brain to fully comprehend. God did not yet exist, neither in the minds of men nor in reality. The establishment of the Church was a thousand years away, with its convents and laws serving as a refuge even in the darkest moments of history.

These were not the times of men, as the earth belonged to something else. Often, humans refer to this something else as 'them' or 'they'.

Dense forests shamelessly reigned, and it was humans who had to adapt to their majestic presence.

The they hammered the land, with their kingdoms and eternal wars, while humans were gathered in skimpy groups, struggling to fight extinction and survive today.

"Come, quick," the hushed voice said.

In an orderly line, the hooded figures followed their Pastor down a narrow, steep pathway of stairs that descended in a zigzag and seemed to stretch down to the deepest bowels of the earth - the safest place at that time, for pointy ears and onyx eyes seldom reached there.

Lacing the path were dwarf doors that hid human chambers, dug into the rock and ground. Like so many glimmers of a hope that was a lie, thousands of candles lit the way and followed the group with each step.

You never knew what so much blackness concealed, especially in those darkest, most distant corners, where the sure arms of light were unable to reach and reveal its terrible secrets. Bigger flames, such as torches, were not recommended as it was rumoured to attract 'them'. It was also believed that some of them could flow through darkness, while others were called by the wind.

"Our prayers have been heeded," The Pastor announced; only his beard, as curled and dusty as he, was visible from that black hood, "At the third stroke of neverlight, it will be irreversible."

Humans have dwelled in the shadow of evil every day, hoping that they had better things to do, better food, better entertainment.

The Two Mothers tried hard to reset the unbalance of wickedness but in vain, as evil was part of life, surer than a sunrise. Yet, they could give humans a chance to live a somewhat fairer game of life. Children snatched from their parents' arms, the endless plains of unmarked graves, an underground life, surrounded by damp earth and roots.... All of this would be a terrible memory, a scar in human history.

"Our ancestors did not live in vain," A female voice whimpered, clutching the smaller form of her baby to her fragile body. The group had reached the bottom of their damp shelter and formed a half moon, the Pastor in the middle.

"Can we finally say hello to the sun?"

The pastor felt a wave of poisonous nostalgia. A lifetime or more had passed since he had last been kissed by daylight.

"Oh, what a joy to see the trees and the rivers you have talked so much about!" said another hooded figure.

"And grow our own vegetables..." One more said in a whisper.

"Why? Beets are not all that bad."

"Ew. It colors my tongue purple."

All those words were new, an effort for the throats that produced them and ears that absorbed them. An inattention, to the excitement of the moment.

Silence meant protection those days.

The Pastor placed a finger on his lips. "Children of the Earth, careful. They might hear. The Prince might hear."

The warning stabbed the mood.

No one had ever seen the Prince, future King of all that is evil and coldblooded.... No one, apart from the dead of course, who fortunately had not been able to describe the encounter.

The current King Beast could be described as terrifying, utterly evil, without a shred of goodness or mercy in that immortal body of his. But the Prince, who would become king as soon as he decided he wanted to and kicked his father far, far away, was.... something else. Oh, he was indeed.

If the King was the tale used to scare children, the Prince was the monster in it.

"Pastor..." A thin, little girl called, "what if they find out and discover us?" 

"If that's the case, you must accept our fate for it will be for a good cause, my dear." The Pastor said. He had already thought of that unfortunate possibility, "think of your grandchildren and great grandchildren. Not to have to live like moles - underground, sick, pale..."

"I'm afraid, Wiser." A young boy whined from his mother's limbs, "I don't want mama to die."

"Have faith in the Two Mothers. They guide us and watch over our energetic soul. You shall see."

"But-"

"I used to be afraid of the dark, son," the Pastor said, kneeling before the child, his old bones barely covered with a thread of grayish skin creaking, "until I learned that we are the light. And dark cannot exist where light lives. It may surround her... it may envelop her. But never defeat her."

"How come?"

"Because the dark is afraid of us."

"Then why do we hide here, Wiser?" Another child asked.

The adults stood quiet, like the ghosts they would soon become. They had no energy left for asking and wondering. Long gone was the time where they cared about curiosity, their existence revolved around their next breath.

"There's not enough light out there, not enough of us to stand up to them..." The Pastor exhaled with an ancient sadness, "And there's too much darkness in the world...but soon, my dear," The Pastor patted the hooded head of the child, standing up slowly. "Things are about to change."

"What do we do now?" asked a man.

"It has started," the Pastor announced, taking a seat on a small rock and folding his hands in his lap. "We wait... it has started."

Neverlight was the moment when they were at their peak. The King ruled from his rocky thrones while the Prince hunted... He smelled, watched, and listened to the secrets of the shadows and dead trees.

And so, the humans waited, huddled in the semi-darkness, in silence, while, above, they were hit by the curse of the Two Mothers... The curse that was irreversible. And so very simple.

They waited, almost asleep, too tired to be hungry.

They waited for days and nights, until strange sounds, which did not belong there, reached the semi-dark underground hole. 

Dust and dirt fell from the damp walls, some of the roots poking out of the ceiling trembled.

Thump...thump....the ground quivered.

The Pastor shut his eyes for one heartbeat. At last, he thought, they had found them.

"Ahh," a rich, deep voice purred from several feet to the right, "what do we have here?"

The herd of hooded humans shrank behind their Pastor; men pressed from behind crushing together in a false sense of protection.

"Another nest, it seems," a different voice replied, from the opposite side.

"Their filth makes my scales fall off."

Then two males came striding out of the dark. They moved in perfect accord, in perfect step, with a peculiar animal grace, fluid and totally silent.

Both inexplicably tall and broad-shouldered, with long, flowing hair and eyes of death; it was clear they weren't human, just as it was clear they were male.

"Oh, Almighty Mothers, they are gorgeous," a female said, her voice mumbling yet awe-struck.

"Good evening, humans."