Courting The Night

Nightbane

They call me Kamaria, and the night is my star-crossed lover.

Kamaria raised her palm to the setting sun, the warmth curling through her fingers. "Until tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Kamaria," the sun said in an air whisper only she could hear.

The night's envy was a cold needle in her back, his hiss in her ear subtle, but the hate behind it sharp as a dagger's edge.

The sentiment wasn't meant for her, but for the sun. For eons the night had chased the sun, the latter forever out of the former's reach. She liked to think of the night as a territorial apex predator, and the sun as a carefree spirit.

A small grimace pulled at Kamaria's lips as a gentle tug disturbed her thoughts – not a tug on her body, but on her mind. He wanted her to take her eyes off the western horizon, away from the dregs of sunlight. The night was not above envy.

She waited until the last ray of light vanished before turning around. From her perch atop the west clock tower, she watched the nights magic creep over the sleepy town of Tanith. Glowing mist snaked through the streets, crawling up stoops and peeping into arched windows at the sleeping humans beyond. Verdant vines snaked over pointed arches and arrested spires with their embrace.

Flowers bloomed on their stalks, their petals stretching open to free their denizens – tiny fairies with skin like the night sky, floating upon gossamer wings. They twirled together in groups of threes and fours and dove in and out of the mist. Foxes chased them, their furry, grey twin tails fluttering like butterfly wings.

Quite the showman the night was, wielding its magic as deftly and beautifully as an artist wielded a pencil. But it was time to put on a show of her own.

Kamaria stepped on the parapet separating her from certain death. The night held his breath; even the wind dared not blow. Another tug rippled through her mind, more urgent this time – a plea to coax her from the edge. A long stretch of nothingness stood between her and the earth, and one step took her over the edge.

Gravity grabbed Kamaria by the ankle, pulling her toward the growing ground. The mist gathered and thickened until it obscured the cobblestone. Mist gathered beneath her in a great cloud and slowed her fall so she landed with the grace of a bird.

The night exhaled, a rush of cool over her skin, and the fairies and foxes converged on her. They circled around, gazing at every inch of her with eyes wide with worry.

"I'm fine thank you." Kamaria could've easily broken the fall with her own magic. She righted her jacket and smoothed her dreadlocks before walking through East Clocktower Square. The tiered fountain at its centre was covered in vines carrying plump red fruit.

The fairies pulled one down for her, an offering from the night, but she shook her head. Two foxes nigh tripped her down as she turned away. They sat side by side with a string of flowers in their snout.

"Alright." She took the flowers and weaved them into her dreadlocks. The night's approval was a warm flush over her skin.

As Kamaria took her usual route across the town, the fairies twirled overhead and the foxes walked alongside her feet like dutiful guards. She passed locked doors and windows with curtains drawn tight.

The humans wanted nothing to do with what lurked in the darkness, and she couldn't blame them. The night hated them, even more than the sun, though Kamaria didn't know what they'd done to invoke his ire.

"Mama? Mama?"

Kamaria froze at the small, squeaking voice rising above the mist. Her heart fluttered like a caged bird, eyes darting around to find the source of the cry. A human girl stood a few feet away, head swiveling and eyes wide.

She wasted no time ripping off her glove with her teeth. Argent light spilled from her fingertips, shooting across the distance and forming a protective circle around the child.

The mist hissed as it rose up around her, coalescing into a thousand needles. Anger was a hot blade in her side, a stark contrast the icy needle of envy in her back. Protecting a human by using borrowed light from the sun was a recipe for the night's wrath.

The needles inched closer, and she ducked her head, looking up at them from under angled brows. "Run," she told the child. "Go back inside now." The slap of bare feet against stone was the only indication the girl had obeyed. The metallic screeches of something opening and closing soon followed. She exhaled as the needles melted back into the mist in tiny waterfalls, but the hot knife remained in her side.

As Kamaria continued her trek across town, the foxes and fairies no longer followed. She didn't don her glove, needing the protection of the light in case the night decided to be rash. In short order, she was at the east clock tower – one of the few places that remained opened at night, by virtue of no one living there.

She climbed the hundreds of zig-zagging steps up the side of the building to the roof. There she sat, cross-legged in a pool of silver light, not moving or speaking until the dark of night changed to a pale blue. The fairies dove into their flowers as the vines snake away and the foxes chased the retreating mist. But the night's disapproval remained – an icy chill that settled in her bones

Kamaria stood to greet her friend, the warm light gracing the east a welcomed sight after such a night. And as she looked down at the humans spilling from their homes to greet the dawn, she reminded of the reason she courted the night. So they could live in peace.