The Guardian
- Reads 87
- Votes 7
- Parts 9
They say the gates to the Regnum Umbrae, or the Shadow Realm are so securely guarded that no one gets within a mile of the doors. The truth is they aren't, as a matter of fact there is only few non-deados that get in and made it out. There are special "people" guarding the main entrance called Curatrix, or in most religions I'm called a Guardian. I am one of those "people". So, I'm guessing you want to know the whole story how I died? What I do to be damned? Truth is I'm very much alive and I asked for this job. Let me start from the beginning... Did you think I would let you read a story on Shadows without a warning, if you're reading this because it's a cool cover and interesting back go ahead keep reading but within any of these pages you think you could be apart of us stop reading and go back to your normal life because once they know you're out there they will stop at nothing to get to you before we do.
"The brightest flame casts the darkest shadow."
― George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings
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It is the autumn equinox, or the death day, the time to contact those that have gone before. Everyone closes their eyes and are silent to commune with the spirits. I had never tried to contact spirits before. But this year I seek my mother. She died this day, fourteen years ago; my birthday. My position in the ceremony is shadow maker. This is a role that I have played since I was old enough to carry the marker staff. It is a rod the length of my forearm tapered at the lower end and holding a clear stone at the top. I hold it high in the air waiting. It catches the light, and its shadow forms an eye directly in the middle of the equinox stones. Spirits surround me. They stop and nod, or at least make eye contact before moving on. "Mother?" She could be an older version of myself. She smiles at me, then, fades as an old presence joins me. This spirit isn't just old; it's ancient. It exudes wisdom and understanding, peace and culture. We celebrate, together, to the music of creation. I seem to know the dance but not as well as she. We are alone only briefly before being joined by another. They dance as if they know each other's every move. I try to keep up. When I falter, they smile, laugh and show me how. There is no passage of time. We dance together for an instant and forever. I shouldn't, but I open my eyes. My shadow, marking the equinox, isn't a shadow, it is a shimmering swirl of blended light. The stone in the top of my staff is flicking with a brilliant white accented by scintillating bands of many colours. I quickly close my eyes but the ancients are gone. We all open our eyes. My shadow falls through the standing stones as it should. And it is black, also, as it should be. They had danced with me.
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