Ferocity

i

Darkness was beautiful in an odd sort of way.

Of course, I had never been able to see the shadows. It was my duty to bring light and daytime to the world. Everywhere I went, it was bright. And that chased the darkness away.

Except I had seen darkness. In that precise second when night melted into dawn or the exact moments when the sun set into the evening. They were short and instant; one blink, and suddenly, it was over. But either way, I had seen the shade. And it was indeed beautiful.

My older sister, Isira, frequently told me stories of the night. Maybe she thought that I was slightly insane since I always insisted to hear about what it was like where my light wasn't present. Yet either way, she never denied me the tales. I did wish I could better understand her description, though. My only seconds of experience weren't enough to capture what night was.

During the rare times she could visit, the first question I would always ask was what darkness looked like.

Black, she'd tell me.

The only black I had ever seen were the blacks on galloping stallions, idle cars in driveways, or dreadfully painted doors. But that couldn't be the same as darkness since my light was shining on it. No, it just wasn't the same, because that was where light was. With darkness, I didn't know the black.

Or maybe it was the black on him.

He was always there, although I never saw him. Both light and darkness were needed to create shadows. He was just out of reach, present where my light didn't hit. I felt him in all the shadows that I couldn't see, and I knew where he was all the time. It was sort of a sixth sense, this feeling in my gut like something was empty, devoid of my element. It was ominous and evil, but how could darkness, something that was so beautiful, create that feeling?

But then the war began, and I thought I understood.

For possibly the hundredth time in a row, Amias disarmed me. My borrowed sword fell, defeated, to the grass, and I followed soon after, landing on my back, my eyelids clenching to block out the dust that our match sent airborne. When they opened again, I knew I would see a spear point in my face.

Amias smiled down at me, trying to resist looking smug. "You know, I was beginning to think you might have gotten the hang of this."

"Very funny. Don't think I don't know that you're secretly getting a kick out of this," I muttered, pushing the spear out of my face. I got to my feet and pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "You were right. This is hopeless. I'm hopeless. I'm never going to learn how to fight."

"Aw, Light," Amias said, his tone softening, "you're doing fine. You've only been at this for a week, and I've been doing it since the beginning of time. You'll get it on your own eventually, I promise."

"Not fast enough," I said, "to actually help in the war."

He didn't understand how horrible it was, sitting by, watching the battlefield. Not because I didn't know what was happening. Honestly, I didn't mind being the damsel in distress after centuries of not getting involved in bloody conflicts. It was because the overall efforts went slowly. Even though the battles were not my battles, they were still my cause. I ached to help it happen, to make it happen faster. To restore peace. Maybe if I was there, I could help win. But even if I wouldn't make a large difference, I could still save a life.

Amias was about to roll his eyes, but something in my expression stopped him. "I don't know why you're so obsessed with getting your hands dirty. It's not anything anyone should want to do. Besides, if you really do want to experience battle, just wait until the next war when Amarie and Dymona decide to fight over a guy. Again."