The Light of My World

Chapter I

"Dull. Bland. Shallow. Gray."

Licht strolled along the ancient gallery, his gaze captured by religious paintings on the walls of the church he was visiting. They were vibrant and alive; animated by Lightcasting to transition into the next art similar to a hand flicking of a page in a novel. He paused at the end of the corridor, turning towards the final composition that stood before him—a lone Julius, the hierophant of the Order of Luminos, kneeling in front of his beloved Lumiere, one palm open to welcome the radiant prowess the deity herself bestowed.

"Our beloved goddess," a cruel voice intruded the silent night, the sound of which is waning, like a calamity constricted of unleashing its rage towards the observer.  "The bearer of blessings, the first historical moment of the Divine and Man, that which allowed all of us to obtain powers that transcend rationality, yet you speak nothing but ill towards your benefactor, you bastard?"

    Licht turned and made his way towards the owner of the voice—a bloodied, elderly priest in his final moments. His chest had been ripped apart. Tendrils of shadows leaked from the sternum, gradually expanding in every place of the body. The Nexus, the lifeforce of all beings, had been corrupted. What was once filled with life and purity now succumbed to the horrors of Shadowcasting.

"I've always longed to see beyond these eyes of mine. To you... and to the world, it's marvelous," Licht said, stooping in front of the dying priest to meet his gaze. He could see the color drained landscape and fragments of someone staring back at him. It was the face of a young, wavy haired man in his late teens.

"To me, it has always been the same four words."

"Blasphemer!" The priest screeched, thrashing recklessly in pain. Rivers of blood fell from the corners of his eyes. The shadows had begun to invade his brain from the inside. Soon, he would be a thrall; a slave robbed of its former self. But the priest was a stubborn mule, and he refused to yield to the lion in front of him. He raised his arms, drawing forth the Lightsource from the paintings, the brilliant energy that fueled it. It coursed through his palms, into the body, and from the shadows he glistened like moonlight.

Licht could see the light's radiance, its warmth clashing with the shadows he created. But he couldn't feel it, nor could he understand the wrath of the priest. The Shadowcaster was confused; how could he, who had caused acts that went against The Edict of Lumiere, still had the boldness to defend her deity after all he had done?

The paintings turned anemic with every hue and light siphoned. The hallway grew darker, and the only visible light came from the priest. Licht was unperturbed by this, for he was accustomed to the view of the colorless. The world he was familiar with is a universe void of color and emotions.

Then there was silence. Only the sound of liquid light leaking out of the priest could be heard. Too much Lightsource had been absorbed. He was fragile, old, and no master of Lightcasting unlike the Bishops and the Inquisitors. His body convulsed from the tempest that raged within, and from him surged a supernova of holy light. The solid stone walls, the dome shaped ceiling, the giant stained glass windows. Everything was scorched, blackened, but blazing afire. Almost everything except the figure that now stood before him.

"How... How is it even possible?" The priest's voice had lost its confidence. "Just... Just what are you?"

"What am I?" Licht whispered, the light merely passing through him as if he was invisible. He stared past the man down the hallway. "I am... nothing."

"Stay... Stay back!" The priest recoiled in horror as Licht slowly paced towards him. Then, he felt something from below. Looking down, he saw dark, ghostly arms rising from his silhouette. They crawled into his skin, consuming the light like tiny leeches draining blood. He tried to tear them apart by hand, but like the endless ocean tides, it simply swished back double the amount. Light shrunk from him, replaced by shadows that grew as it devoured him until he was reduced to nothing but black.