SHADOW (1)

Is it really light, if there is no darkness to dispel?

***

Gloom.

Blackness.

Darkness.

It didn't know what it was, but it knew it existed.

It was a shadow or a being that was kindred to it.

But that did not matter.

The bliss it felt overcame all reason.

It did not know how it came to be, but the darkness soothed it, comforted it.

That was now its home,

And its sole purpose.

---

For eons, the shadow reveled in the endless tenebrosity and the ecstasy that it felt, but one day, all that changed.

As the shadow was wallowing in its pleasure, something incredibly odd pierced through the darkness, and for the first time, it saw light. It could see that there was something other than the cold darkness it called home. It was fascinating, but it intrinsically HATED it, for it felt as though it was the darkness's counterpart. Something that must be quelled, for everything must be one with darkness and darkness only. Thus, this disgusting, blasphemous creature that produced light, must be consumed.

The creature had a form, unlike the shadow, that was formless, as it was just one among endless others existing within the darkness. Pathetically small and four-limbed, one of which carried a beautiful, sleek blade that was wreathed in the very same sacrilegious light that also covered the being's entirety. But no matter, The darkness would cleanse this pest and it would enjoy watching the being getting swallowed. And so, the battle began.

---

The battle raged on for an unknown amount of time and the shadow's annoyance was treading dangerously close to its limit.

How was this profane being of light able to withstand the darkness?

This battle went against all that it had believed, but just as an inkling of doubt appeared in it's mind, it immediately squashed it down.

Why worry? The darkness always won.

After all,

It was its home.

It was its purpose.

---

Time flew by and the doubt within it was getting worse. The being of light albeit weaker could hurt the darkness to a frightening degree. Even to the point of pushing it back.

Was light stronger than the darkness?

No. The being was also gravely injured, for the light enveloping it sometimes flickered, revealing a bipedal form with dusky skin. The two blinding white spheres on its face that it seemed to use for vision, started to dim.

Yes, the darkness shall prevail. None can challenge it. It shall consume everything, for only it deserves to exist. The product of nothingness that yearned to be.

The being faltered in its attacks for a moment, distancing itself from the darkness probably hoping to slip away.

Futile.

The darkness lunged forward, instantly surrounding it, cutting off any path of escape, and seeing that the being stopped, turning around.

There was no semblance of fear on the being's face. It merely raised its sword to its forehead before muttering something incomprehensible. The light that once wreathed its entirety was almost gone, only feeble flashes of it could be faintly seen, contrasting with the being's dark skin, but suddenly, just as the being stopped chanting, it returned, in far greater amounts. But instead of covering and protecting the being's body, it was now sucked into it, seemingly causing it great pain.

'Weak', the shadow thought. What was the point of an attack if one failed to control it?

The light was indeed weak. Those blasphemous thoughts it once had, vanished. A few moments passed, but the amount of energy the being continued to swallow didn't reduce, instead, it was steadily starting to increase.

Sensing danger, the darkness shot forward, its colossal maws wide open, hoping to swallow the being whole, but it was too late. The being smiled and brought the sword down from its forehead, cleaving it downward, traces of light following the blade's trajectory, and as if on cue, the being exploded letting lose a monstrous amount of light and energy that easily cut through the darkness. It was a sacrifice that brought light where there was none.

Pain rocked the shadow's entire being as it felt its connection to the darkness get torn away.

No! it could not lose the darkness! That was its home, its purpose!!!

But as it struggled to reinforce the bond, it was forcibly ripped away, doomed to fall into the abyss below.

---

The shadow knew not how long it fell, but it did know that it was a long, long time.

Other than the feeling of falling, it could not sense anything else, but eventually, it felt a world enter its radar. A world filled with light.

Blasphemous!

It wanted to snuff that annoying light out, dooming the world into darkness, but it had no choice. It was weak. Its essence was fading, and there was not much time left before it would think no longer.

The world was a curious one. It was filled with similar bipedal creatures like the bladed being that had ripped it away from the darkness, and at first, it was terrified, thinking of them as beings with similar power, but it was gravely mistaken. The bipedal creatures, or humans, as they called themselves, didn't possess a shred of the bladed being's power. They were ridiculously weak, but the shadow itself was no different.

This world was filled with the dreadful light that the bladed being wielded and although it was incomprehensibly weaker, the shadow's dying essence was still too weak to handle it. So, it quickly sought refuge in a human's shadow, the darkness providing a period of respite.

But this was not darkness.

This was a mere imitation. It was but the absence of light, not the darkness that consumed anything and everything.

Not the darkness that boasted incredible power.

It was a purposeless darkness, and it was not its home nor its purpose. But it would have to make do.

The only way it could survive was if it assimilated its own wounded essence with the human's one. This was slightly problematic, as it would then become an entirely new being. It was akin to mixing the color black and white, making the color grey. After which, it was impossible to separate them into their original colors. This would mean that the new being would carry broken memories, not knowing who it was. Moreover, the shadow did not know what mutations may take place, but it had to do this to survive. It had to do this for its purpose. It had to do this for its home, for the darkness must carry on.

The human whose shadow it had taken refuge in, looked sickly and thin, compared to the others. He wore tattered clothes on his body while grime coated his face and hands. Humans would walk past him, sometimes dropping a copper coin in his bowl, or sometimes looking at him with distaste. Some even spat in his direction signifying that he was disliked by others in his race.

'Perfect', the shadow thought to itself.

No one would care if he were to disappear.

***

Struf? No.

Skuert? No.

Skurd? No.

No no no no. It WAS Skurd.

Yes, that was his name.

A man, or so it seemed, sat underneath a large tree. But instead of enjoying the view of the setting sun, he laid back, deep within the shade. His figure was almost ethereal and his pitch-black clothes seemed to be melded into his body. When he woke up, he did not know who he was, and a few centuries later, he still didn't know. His struggle to remember his name was a product of his amnesia and he was currently living in a nightmare.

He had woken up to the sensation of burning. Not the normal feeling of his body burning, mind you, but the burning of his soul. He had panicked, running toward some shade, thankful that it stopped when he reached it, but a few minutes later, the sensation slowly returned. He had to run from one shadow to the next, only getting about ten minutes of respite before he started to burn again. He eventually noticed that he couldn't physically influence the world and that worsened the dread that was building up in him. He tried everything. He waved his hands in front of a couple and even stood in front of an incoming carriage, but it was all in vain. The couple simply ignored him and the carriage just passed through him as though he didn't exist.

His entire body was a deep black, with a long robe of an equally dark shade, and instead of a normal head like any other human, he had a hood. It was the same shade as his other clothes, with a black abyss replacing his face.

All he knew was that he was once human but not how he knew that. It was merely an instinctual feeling, but that did not tell him what he had become.

At first, he felt despair. What kind of cruel curse had befallen him? Dooming him to roam the earth, the sun never letting him live, nor his powers letting him die? He tried burning himself in the sun but it was simply unbearable. It was as though there was a built-in response that made him run toward any place that had shade. But as time went by, he eventually figured out that with his strange curse came equally strange abilities.

He taught himself to hide within shadows, immersing himself in the darkness and to influence the dreams of others, although that drained him of energy, lessening the time taken for the burning sensation to return. Years passed and he entertained himself by watching the lives of the people around him. He could travel large distances by jumping from shadow to shadow, after all. It was fun at first, but time started to chip away at his already withering humanity.

He watched the passage of time as though it were a painting, while he himself was rejected by the world.

He was an anomaly.

A ghost.

He followed the stories of heroes and villains and watched kingdoms and clans rise and fall, hoping that they would stir his emotions that had long escaped him over the centuries, but nothing seemed to do so.

He needed no sustenance nor sleep.

He was just a shadow.

Always watching, but never being able to interfere.

Right now, he was sitting underneath a tree, waiting for the sun to go down. The burning sensation would still come, even at night, but it took a lot longer, so he usually traveled larger distances then. He had been feeling particularly bored, so he decided to spy on something amusing. It was a rising clan. The main family was incredibly secretive, even their servants rarely caught a glimpse of them.

All the people knew was that they were incredibly beautiful and wielded strength akin to the gods themselves. But in run-down taverns and bars that the common people frequented, were rumors that told stories of them being worse than the devil himself.

He licked his lips in anticipation.

'Hmmm...What were they called again?', he thought, his memory failing him once again. He thought for a second before finally remembering it.

The Djinn.