The White Shadow

Prologue

The air felt cold as sweat rolled down Firmin's forehead. His heart raced like he'd been running from a demon, but he was lying on his back, and if he'd been sleeping, he could remember no dream. The darkness stopped him from seeing but he immediately knew he wasn't alone. Trying to get up, he found that his arms lay limp by his side, unreceptive as if they'd been cut off, and panic caused another surge of sweat.

The sky was alight with stars, and somehow, he drew comfort from their twinkling light...although the fact that he was lying outside confused him.

"And if he gets violent? They say he might be possessed." His relief was cut short, for he did not know the raspy voice. He wanted to turn over, but the mere attempt sent pain spiking through his neck.

"You're one to talk." The voices continued as his heart sped. "He won't move. Just look at him. We haven't gotten him to speak yet, and it's been days now."

Days? Firmin tried to remember where he was but found his mind blurring memories of all his twenty-three years lived in no particular order, sorting through all the faces of the people he'd known growing up. He clung to the ground in desperation as every one of them frowned at him and turned their back.

Feeling a presence beside him, he once again wanted to jerk his head to the right but found he could hardly budge at all, pain erupting from what felt like a million shards in his neck. Hot tears began to roll down his face, terror of being paralyzed creeping in his mind. Despite his chest heaving so that his breathing was erratic and fast, he found no air.

"You're weak," said a deep voice, "try to stay calm."

"Wh-who's there?" His voice came out as a strained whisper despite his efforts to scream. For several moments, all he could hear was his own heart hammering, accelerating at alarming speed, and the gasps that escaped him.

"I would be careful with him," the raspy voice said. "He might be a spy."

"Quiet."

Groaning and wheezing, Firmin tried once again to look over. Managing to twist his neck over ever so slightly, he glimpsed a mass of darkness and odd glints of light hovering beside him. It took him a second to realize that the man was covered from head to toe in armor, its slick blackness reflecting moonlight. But he was unable to find the second voice.

The deep voice behind the helmet drew his attention to the eyes peering through the slits. "When we found you, I thought you were dead. And by the strings, you should have been."

Firmin tried calming his racing heart, tried to gain a breath, but his head only began to spin more, and he had to close his eyes. "Wh-what?"

"I've heard stories, rumors. Whispers turned into gossip. But I had to come see for myself."

The man's voice seemed to echo, piercing Firmin's brain like a knife. He tried to shift, to make it go away as he searched for the second voice. He found only the knight in armor, who continued to speak.

"I've been tracking you for a while now. I was not expecting to find you at the edge of the world. Firmin, I need you to tell me what possessed you to tread such a deadly path."

"I don't—I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why don't we go back to the beginning. Think back."

"And don't skip any detail."

"Quiet now." The knight seemed to argue with air. "You are Firmin Tawald correct? From Greendale?"

Those were questions Firmin could answer, and he managed to nudge his head enough to count for a nod to each.

The man continued. "Well, Firmin, the story that caught my attention was the one where you went on a journey with your friends, trying to defeat a deathly force outside your town. And that you had an encounter with the devil herself."

Strange voices started to fill his head. Nightmarish adrenaline clawed inside his veins. He wanted to wake, to yell at the man to go away, but barely managed to take in another hitch of air. It was all he could do to keep from throwing up as the man's voice continued.

"We've all heard of things, demons, whose faces we do not see. They come in the night and steal souls from men. They are mere rumors because not many ever lived to describe them. But you—you've met one. The people all say you saw her in her true form."

"That you found a way to keep her from attacking you," the raspy voice spoke again, seeming to come from where the dark knight was kneeling, but Firmin still found no one else. "You dealt with a fragile curse. Such a thing does not leave a man unmarked."

He was beginning to fear that whatever lay in his past was something dark and ugly. And it was maddening that he could not remember.

"They said, that you could use her. Take control over her."

The armor creaked as the warrior leaned closer. Sweat rolled down Firmin's face. He shut his eyes when he couldn't turn away. Go away!

"Until it all went wrong. And here I found you, half dead and at the very darkest corner of the world, with a spreading story so remarkable the duke himself looks to you for answers."

A beautiful face flashed in his mind. Large eyes, full of blame, sorrow. Firmin felt a moment of relief, almost able to feel the soothing touch of the pale fingers reaching for his face.

With them, pain came. He wanted to run but felt like he was being tied down. He wanted to send the voices away, which seemed determined to drag him back to a dark and cold pit. The same pale hands that caressed his face suddenly dug into his flesh.

Perhaps not knowing was better. Perhaps being confused was preferable to this feeling of dread.

"I heard some very strange things from many people now. But tell me, Firmin Tawald, how did you survive the white shadow of death?"

Firmin stopped struggling. All fight left him as he gave in to the memories. The feeling he'd been fighting so hard to forget...