Chiaroscuro

2 - For the Night

"Waning moon, darkness grows

In my blood life force flows

Time to rest, wounds are healed

Look to self, all is revealed"

Hecate, Seridina

Forgiveness and loyalty; all that remained. That and darkness. Not his darkness, comforting and soothing taking hold of her skin, consuming her body of sweet, sweet pain. No. Not even the terrifying blindness of war, when all she could hear was death and his voice was nowhere to be heard. That, then, was actual slow and all-encompassing shadows. Time started to float by. The pod of flesh grabbed her like a deranged blanket and all that was left were thoughts of his form and a glimpse catched by her peripheral vision.

The figure by her side, misted and seemingly so far away, was yet closer than close. The memories of her comforting his most vulnerable side floated inwards as the earth swallowed them both. Her black gaze was taken over by the rest of the night and she was once again swept away, as she had been so many times before in this life and the lives that came before.

Ever since she could remember, she was comforted by darkness. Born at the witching hour to a clan of black moon worshiping streghe, she had grown to appreciate the darkest nights, when her Sacred Mother, Queen of Witches, was strongest. In darkness lied her guiding light. Her Goddess. And so she knew she would never be alone in the dark.

The first memory she could recall was that of a dream. She flew across the moonless night skies like she owned them, her dark raven wings disappearing into the shadows both above and beneath them. She was free; and she was one with the realms of Nyx.

And as such, from then on, whenever the warriors of the so-called light of their lord came trying to burn away her nocturnal kingdom, the Queen of the Night would keep her safe, grant her Sanctuary.

To Her she had sacrificed her blood and life; for Her she would watch as her sisters perished, never following them to the beyond. Through the merciless passing of ages she should remain, bringing forth Her Truth so that for as long as she'd live, so would all she lived for.

Out of all the people she would have thought that were to cross her paths, he was one such as she could never have guessed. A true surprise from the crossroads of her destiny, yet inevitable from the very start.

Like most of what truly mattered, he first came to her in a dream, once upon her endless night. She could not see him, only feel his gaze following her deep into her deepest shadows.

She could not see him and yet the moment she did, in her waking hours, she knew who he was and the Shadowgazer from her dreams gained a face. And a name.

He had named himself after the night: Noctis.

And he wore a cross.

The cross, however, never made it to his heart, resigned to merely swing over the surface of his skin. His heart belonged to Darkness, much like her own. And to the Light of ideas.

Until he gave it to her. Perhaps driven by his love of darkness, he chose to willingly drown in her Abyss, giving her tools to speak among those with the power to write History. And so they did, too, along with them: wrote History.

Could it be that now that the world they helped build was about to rise, he would choose to fall?

Many before had she lost, many swept away by the men of the Man. But never had she lost anyone she had loved not to an enemy but to themselves, to their own blindness.

Anger burned up her chest as her Beast refused to give up on what belonged to her, not in a thousand cursed years. She was a daughter of Medea, and as such, she was not to be forsaken.

She was not to be left behind.

Garlic.

Sulfur.

Sage.

Thorns from a dead rose.

Fire. Blood.

Clove.

Cinnamon.

Rosemary.

Earth from the grave.

Fire. Blood.

By the strength of the blackest moon, by the power of her bloodline, by Brimo, the same Angry One who once came to her Ancestors' aid.

She was not to be left behind.

Silence. Deafening nothingness blurred by the smoke as her magic brewed. As the mists faded away, he was still left in deathlike sleep. Gone. Still gone.

Anger burned up her chest as her Beast still refused to give up on what belonged to her, not in a thousand cursed years. She was a daughter of Medea, and as such, she was not to be forsaken.

She was not to be left behind.

Garlic.

Sulfur.

Sage.

Thorns from a dead rose.

Fire. Blood.

Clove.

Cinnamon.

Rosemary.

Earth from the grave.

Fire. Blood.

By the strength of the blackest moon, by the power of her bloodline, by Brimo, the same Angry One who once came to her Ancestors' aid.

She was not to be left behind.

Before the smoke faded, she shifted, her arms taking the shape of wings, black feathers breaking through her pores. She flew across the moonless night skies like she owned them, her dark raven wings disappearing into the shadows both above and beneath them. She was free; and she was one with the realms of Nyx.

As she flew across the forest of her childhood memories, she could feel him follow, falling into the Abyss after the sound of her wings.

Spreading them wide, she dove deeper and deeper, dragging him further and further down, shattering walls of looking glass leaving stardust behind him as he fell right into her wings' embrace.

Forgiveness and loyalty. All that remained. That and darkness. Not his darkness, comforting and soothing taking hold of her skin, consuming her body of sweet, sweet pain. No. Not even the terrifying blindness of war, when all she could hear was death and his voice was nowhere to be heard. That, then, was actual slow and all-encompassing shadows. Time started to float by. The pod of flesh then suddenly opens widely, spewing all sorts of fluids. Then as she blinked and adjusted to the light all that was left was a glimpse of his smiling face right in front of her. His voice, misted and seemingly so far away, was yet closer than close.

- Good night, beloved.

She was not to be left behind.