ORIGIN

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"The shadow was trying its best to be careful and gentle with the star, afraid of scratching it or dropping it by accident, and the little star knew this, and whispered to the shadow, 'It's okay. I trust you.'

The shadow stopped, having stepped away from the riverbank. It felt horrible and hollow inside; how many creatures had said that to the shadow when it kept them captive until death? Didn't its other half trust it to stay and fight? How in the world did the half-shadow deserve anyone's trust?

It was about to put the star down and explain that it was a worthless thing to trust when the shadow heard a familiar voice behind it.

"So there you are."

Slowly, slowly, the shadow turned. The king stood behind it, triumphant and murderous.

"You have run far enough." The king smiled it disturbing smile, and before the shadow could move or set down the star, the king rushed to the shadow, caught it by the scruff of the neck, and threw it into the river. The star cried out, helpless.

The jarring sluice of water shocked the shadow entirely, and the force from being tossed in head first sent a shock of panic through the shadow. Would it die the same way as its other half? Because of its blind thrashing, its mouth was filling with water, since it was partially open with the star, and it was starting to feel the cold claws of the king wrap around its neck. Would it die here? Was this the result of all it had done? The shadow's mind went blank, and as it struggled, it swallowed some of the icy water and a huge lump went down its throat.

Instantly, a wave of warmth went through it. The water stopped being cold, the king's grip was nonexistent, and the shadow, for a moment, thought it had died. It opened its eyes and saw itself change. It was becoming corporeal and substantial, its fur changing from its inky emptiness to a rippling thick dark, dappled with stars, that seemed to glow that warmth it felt. That hollow feeling from its other half being ripped away was healed and soothed over, and suddenly the shadow knew it had swallowed the star.

The shadow - no that wasn't the right name for it anymore - breached the water, coughing, gasping for air, clawing its way up to the riverbank, and saw the king had backed away from it, its amber eyes wide. "What have you done?" The king hissed.

The night - for that was what it was now - stared at the king, and laughed at it.

"I have done a great many horrible things,"

it said, and even its voice was different than before,

"This new thing I've done is no different."

The night honestly felt it had killed the star in its attempt to survive, and through its new bravado felt unimaginable guilt. The star trusted it, and it had simply eaten the poor thing, the only friend it had made.

A whisper was uttered from within the night's depths, a sweet little whisper that told it not to worry. The night could barely feel it, but it was definitely there."

"This is how I speak."

Fisher blinked as, for the moment being, the shadow managed not to hurt the star. So long as he was careful, so long as he was tender, everything would be alright. He and the star could be together, could share in that little bit of peace for a while. His muscles relaxed, his eyes drooping as he thought the story was about to wrap up into a beautiful happy ending... Yet that was not what was to be, for the white ghost of a deer's voice took on the tone of the King. The mustelid had not forgotten that voice so quickly, oh no. He certainly hadn't.

Sleepily, he bared his teeth at the voice. No. It wasn't fair. What had the star done to deserve this? The shadow may have done bad things, but what was he supposed to do! The King should just leave them alone, he thought, his tail swishing high up on his branch. The world was too cruel, its most powerful of players too malicious. He hated it.

... Something strange happened in the story. For although the shadow was to die, for he brushed so close to death, he had not died. Something horrible had happened? The Shadow-- the Night-- had done something terribly bad. It had killed the star? Yet the star was still alive, inside of him... That was what the storyteller was saying, yes? That they had become one, reborn into... Into something that the King could not hurt anymore, right? They would win now, right? The happy ending was right there.

Fisher thought to himself that if the happy ending was not to be coming that he would hop down and yell the ears off of that awful little doe. Surely she could just let the Night, Shadow and Star, be happy. Kill the king, the awful beast, and let them live as something new and wonderful. He wanted that to be the end so badly, that despite the fact his eyes now closed completely and a sleepy breath stirred in his lungs, the fisher cat's ears were still perked and alert, intently listening to the story as he had since the very beginning.

The Night had suffered enough. He had learned his lesson. Couldn't the world, the storyteller, see that?

The king appeared and their fight continued. Fallah listened on as the shadow was thrown into the water. The thing struggled against the water. Why couldn't it swim? Could its other half save it, by chance, or would its other half help to drown it. The shadow swallowed water, and a lump went with it.

So it did swallow the star? That bit was a bit of an "aha" moment for Fallah. The star deserved it and Fallah had guessed what would happen. The cat was right! The shadow was not destroyed by the star, no, but transformed into something else- the night. That was odd. The night sassed the king back, but he still felt sad. He should feel sad! He ate the star! The star seemed to be able to talk to him from within, though, even if it was quiet. Fallah guessed that maybe that was kind of a good thing. the lynx didn't have anything against the star, just the weak, weak shadow. The cat felt as if the story would come to an end soon and set to listening to the deer intently.

"speak"

Her throat was really starting to ache by now, in the telling of this story, and she didn't know how much time had passed. In telling it, she was seeing it, dreaming it, living it. The fear, the pain, the hope; she felt it, she lived it, and she let others see it too by telling. The river rushed around her with its cold fingers, the hands closed around her long neck. She shivered, but from what exactly from, she didn't know.

She had found her dreams at last, these waking dreams, and she didn't know how to deal with the idea that the first one she shared was a nightmare.

But it didn't have to be like that, did it? The wisps whispering to her helped her delve into the dream, helped make it more real to her, but in the end, it was her telling the story, and she could control this dark dream. She didn't want it to end badly. She didn't want the king to win.

But really, in the telling, she had to lean on the wisps. Why was the king even doing this? Why was it terrorizing and tormenting the shadow? Didn't it have enough in its cloak?

Well, just listen, if you'd like to know...the wisps smiled.

"The night stood away from the bank, dripping wet but detached from the cold. The two creatures slowly circled each other in tandem, staring each other down.

"You have no idea what you've done," the king sneered, its teeth glinting.

"No, but I know what I've escaped."

The night retorted, readying itself for the fight to come.

"You are cruel, and have no regard for anyone else. The subjects you choose to rule over don't have a voice to object."

"You know nothing!" The king snarled. "I am protecting them! Don't you see? All of those creatures I sent to you, all of them wanted what I offered them; immortality. They died in your embrace, and I had to wait to take them all, and I had to wait to take you, who would've been their voice. There are no more left, and I almost had you." The king was shaking in rage, and the sword it held trembled. "Don't you see? There is no one left to die, for they are all safe with me. I will protect them."

The night stared at the king, horrified, and the king went on, "But now that you are this- this thing, and not a shadow anymore, you can't join them, and they will forever be silent. I almost had you--"

"What kind of life is that?"

The night spat out.

"They are afraid of everything as they are, they are too afraid to speak!"

The night's fur bristled in fury.

"I am sick to death of fear."

The night stood and it roared,

"How did you think I would ever agree?!"

The king bit its tongue for a long silence, then said, "I knew you wouldn't. I had to make you bow."

The night bared its teeth and said with slow, deliberate, cold fury,

"I will never bow."

At this point she could feel the wisps influence trying to shift the story into leading the night to fail, to which she disagreed. She didn't want the king to win, no matter his motives; the king was mean and manipulative and only saw its own goals. All the night wanted was to live free.

"The night lunged at the king with tooth and claw, but his enemy was ready and quickly sidestepped, flicking its sword with ease. As the night skidded to the ground, it felt the snicks of pain from the crisscrossing cuts across its side, but it didn't let the pain hold it back. With a swift swipe of its paw, it scattered a huge spread a dirt at the king's eyes. While the king sputtered and stepped back, the night lunged again and sunk its teeth in the king's neck, making it scream and felling it to the floor.

The king threw all of its strength into pushing the night off and rolling away, getting up shakily, holding its neck. "I..." Its voice was shaky, and it coughed, spitting its blood onto the ground. "I am...the only reason...you exist."

The night spat the king's blood onto the ground as well.

"I bet you regret that now, don't you?"

The king grinned, then sprinted forward with its sword ready, cloak flying. Its sword slashed wildly in the air, but the night moved nimbly to avoid it, its confidence growing. The warmth growing from its belly helped shake off the wounds it carried, and the night was no longer afraid of the king.

The king grew more desperate and clumsy over time, just as the night grew more quick. The night easily snuck in a rake of its claws across the back and a snarling bit on the king's arm, and it was all the king could do to end up protecting itself, backing away step by step.

Soon the king's feet touched the edge of the river bank, panting and bloodied, reaching the end of its rope. The night stared it down, calm and warm.

The king gritted its teeth and prepared to lunge again, but before it could take a step, something reached out and gripped its foot, making the king fall and drop its sword. It shouted and scrabbled as dark hands clawed and grabbed it, pulling it in. The night's reflection, the half of it that had drowned, was pulling the king into the river.

The night only watched as the king's legs were pulled in, then its torso, its arms, and finally, its head sunk underneath the cold waters. When the night approached, all it saw was its reflection staring and smiling a greedy smile back at it, and the cloak of shadows floating on the surface.

The night plucked the cloak from the water and put it on slowly, letting its cool silk brush over its fur. It looked at the water, and said softly,

"I will protect them for you."

The night picked up the sword and stuck it into the ground, a marker for the king's grave, and then the night walked away, finally free."

END THREAD

"This is how I speak."

Belladonna

Fisher

Fallah

Belladonna