Shadowcraft by L.L.R.

Chapter I: Still White, Stirring Black

Shadow Craft

Chapter I: Still White, Stirring Black

In this world, there is a skill called, Shadow Craft, and a matter called, Nu.

Shadow Craft is the ability of living people to wilfully transform their shadows into a dark substance that has mass and occupies space. Nu is what we call this substance made from shadow.

One out of a thousand people can do this, only two of a thousand who possess the shadow Craft skill could keep it in a simple shape with a smooth unmoving surface without it crumbling, softening, becoming lopsided and twisted, or watery, the parts that drip from it turning instantly into ash and then nothingness, and only a few have the innate capability to make it cut steel, make it move, keep it from falling apart, and master this skill.

A person with this innate capability is called an “Atum”.

When evil people die, their shadows become alive and leave their bodies to do the one most wicked thing that the deceased person loved to do. These shadows are called “Shades”.

In the government there is a department that eradicates shades, this department is called, S.O.L.

Above the city, in the Northern Sector, rain poured on a canvass that sheltered a big speaker that was connected to a brass tube that curved and attached to a radio that was inside a wooden box.

“Today, the storm Hvergelmir will hit the Niflheim region and the city of Muspell will be experiencing heavy winds and rains." said the announcer, "All classes are suspended. People are advised to stay indoors and turn on their UV lamps. Shelters are now open and will lock down at three in the afternoon. We firmly request that citizens refrain from spectating and coming within five miles of the orange fireflies. The S.O.L. team has been dispatched. We repeat, the S.O.L. team has been dispatched. Today, the storm . . .”

A white heavily gloved hand turned the volume knob of the radio down.

“Recruits, please watch the city carefully!” shouted a man who had shoulder length messy black hair, pale skin, and wore a raincoat. Wind and rain whipped his face and coat, and his hair stuck to his face as he stood hundreds of feet from the ground, on the lowest balcony of the giant zeppelin, Bestla. Behind him, a hundred meters away, whirled the giant bronze propellers of the airship. Steam whistled and bellowed from brass pipes that ran across the side of the zeppelin, and blue lights shone brightly from lamps that dotted the huge deck and the giant white balloon that kept it afloat, casting the balcony in a ghostly blue light.

Fifteen teenagers stood on the balcony, shivering in the cold and looking at him, each holding a long telescope and wearing raincoats too. They wore a blue uniform with metal plates underneath a black bulky leather vest. The man who had spoken was wearing a white uniform and on his chest was pinned a silver badge.

“Whenever it rains this hard and the sun is blocked by grey clouds,” he said, “shades will come out of hiding.”

Hundreds of feet underneath them the city of Muspell was covered in a pale shadow that was growing steadily as grey clouds crept over the sky. The orange glow of the street lamps below burst to life in the grey light of the arriving storm, and in four areas, one in the southern, western, eastern, and northern halves of the city, glaring blue lights ringed circular evacuation shelters of steel, where many people were hastily retreating into. From a distance, the faded silhouettes of three other giant zeppelins patrolled the darkening sky, their many blue search lights scouring the city for shades.