The unlikely union of light and darkness.
"My soul is ruined; made of dead stars, and darkness. And yet, you managed to find light in my hollow heart. Beauty in my unholiness. You mended the fissures of my being. And for that, I shall worship you fo...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MACABRE REMEMBRANCES CONSUMED her crepuscular mind, ending her slumber far too soon. Like the previous night and the night before that, she woke drenched in a cold sweat and with a violent rattling in her bones. The layers of skin above her mystified eyes were laden with somnolence but did not dare close because she was afraid- afraid of the spirits that were birthed from her night terrors, those with their carmine irises of lunacy and thirst for sanguine liquid. No, she would not return to them, she had decided.
The rattling, which had not yet passed, left vibrations rippling throughout her body. Lilith quivered on her bed, listening to the ensemble of soft breathing from across the room, hoping the aurora would rise from the horizon quickly and shine its light on the night's shadows. However, not even her friend's breathing could keep her at peace. Tonight, she was restless, more than ever, and growing exasperated, the witch propped herself into a seating position. Not far from her, the book she had fallen asleep reading was left with its pages open and as she looked at it, her mind drifted to what had happened earlier. Another shiver rocked through her body. Lilith hadn't thought much about the head boy, but now, the memory of their curious encounter flourished in her brain, and with it, him.
She recalled the remarkable beauty of his character; the collection of sculpted lines on his moonlight skin, the darkest pigment of black shading his curls, and the symphonic ring to his voice. He was flawless; a divine being from the empyrean. Albeit his angelic features, it was his irises which she remembered the most; the spectrum of darkest blues, like the celestial cosmos, that swirled around an orb of ink. Moonlight had flickered to his eyes every so often, illuminating his sclera as if it was the stars in a stellar river. Regulus was a fitting name, she supposed. But unlike the light of Regulus, the boy had been dark. He did not carry the luminosity of the star he was named after but radiated caliginosity instead. She remembered it most vividly, the darkness that engulfed him.
It was not the soft dark that enveloped one to a peaceful state. It was not the dark that painted the never-ending skies black during dusk. Nor was it the type of dark during a solar eclipse that made everything serene. The darkness engulfing him was fear-inducing. It was the type of dark one was taught to fear since a babe, to avoid because, in it, there was a monster, one that would tear man limb by limb. It was the dark during death when everything is lost and one must repent sins. This was not a good aura, that much she knew, and it sparked a newfound interest in her that a charming boy, with a handsome face, could carry such darkness. Having been in the presence of darkness itself before, the witch knew it well; she could sense it, and upon seeing him, she knew it was inside of Regulus Winters. He was filled with it!
Nonetheless, the darkness around him was something else entirely, something she had never sensed before. It was malignant.
The grim thoughts lingered in the back of her mind for the rest of the night. As the stars rose and the moon fell, more shivers crawled down her spine. And despite her awareness, she felt trapped, as if she were in a terrible nightmare; one she could not wake from.
