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The Dark Is A Cold Lonely ShadowBook 1 - Within That Dark A Single Flame
This Is A Draft And Not The Final Version!
© Finn & John Dowson 2024Chapter 0A Tiny Reminder He wore a dark purple robe which somehow seemed to both reflect and absorb light at the same time. Despite moving slowly the robe left a faint trail in its wake - a twisted after echo of where he'd been just a half second before.At each corner of his mirror prison a cascade of dark lightning arced out from where his hand would have been (if he'd had need for anything so primitive as a hand), and it danced across the walls.He liked to think of it as dancing, that word just seemed...right? That black lightning also left a sickening inverted after-image in its wake, before thankfully disappearing several seconds later.His robe was covered in runes, some so dark a purple, they were almost black. And other smaller runes so black a black, they seemed to swallow the surrounding light.His robe shimmered, and if anyone was to claim that black can't glow? It'd be much kinder to leave them in ignorance than show them this as evidence.Occasionally at random a single rune would flare as it extended outwards.Though that wasn't quite accurate? 'Seemingly at random' might be a better description.Oh it was most definitely random to throw them off. But for a small random percentage - there was absolutely nothing random about the flaring of those runes.When a rune flared it was almost as if it was being pulled out of the robe against its will, and the further out it extended - the more it resisted. At that point the dark purple brightened to an almost white (though white would be horrified to be compared as such to this colour).After a few seconds white would reject that rune with as much vehemence as black lovingly embraced it, and it would recede back into the robe.His robe dropped almost to the floor, yet never quite touched it - hovering above it by mere millimetres. The trim of the robe was a band of lighter purple, tending almost towards pink, and was stitched together by a single continuous thread - that wasn't quite silver, and wasn't quite black.That thread was the thing that had really confused his captors. To say he went down fighting would be an understatement, and they suspected the thread was the reason they'd had such trouble subduing him.And to be fair, they were partially correct on that front.When they tried to take a sample of that thread and he didn't even try to resist? Alarm bells must surely have been ringing?And when he helpfully raised his right arm to let them take a sample? Surely they might have paused, or had even a flicker of a doubt?Yet despite being 'all powerful' and 'all knowing', they were also arrogant and stupid. It was just a shame the idiots who had tried to take that sample didn't live long enough to feel any pain.When they demanded he remove his robe, he laughed at them and was (for once) entirely truthful. He was the robe, and the robe was him. He could no more remove his robe than they could remove their own nervous system.However he repeated his helpful gesture, raising his right arm exactly as he had done previously. He suggested they might have more success in removing his robe than they'd had taking a sample of the thread?They weren't quite as stupid as he'd thought. Maybe he shouldn't have baited them, and that way he might have killed a few more.However as it turned out he had worried needlessly, they were infinitely more stupid than he could ever have imagined. For some reason they hadn't destroyed him there and then? Apparently they don't kill, but instead imprison? I mean just how stupid can you get?Not that he was one to complain.The trim of his robe was stitched together by that single continuous thread, and although the trim was most definitely lighter in colour (as long as white didn't have any say in the matter), it was most definitely not lighter in any other respect.That trim marked the edges of his robe, the sleeves, and his wide low hood. Inside that hood the darkness was not only the absence of light - it was a darkness that consumed the very light itself.Hovering in front of that eternal darkness there are two glowing red eyes, fading to yellow at the edges. That said? Are they not yellow eyes fading to red at the edges?It's difficult to be sure as those eyes flicker in a most disturbingly random manner. This confusion isn't helped by the fact that the black within his hood seems to be eagerly reaching out, as if trying to claim the light from those eyes.Again this wasn't quite accurate? It might in fact be more scientifically accurate to describe it as 'the black within his hood seems to be greedily sucking in the light from those eyes'.And besides, there was nothing random about that flickering. It was actually a carefully calculated algorithm. The eyes flicker in that sequence deliberately, for no other reason - than to be disturbing.Indeed they aren't even real eyes, and they don't really serve any purpose - other than being the most terrifying thing anyone has ever seen.And yet, what greater purpose than that could there possibly be?The fact that nobody could see his eyes at the moment was a moot point. He'd become accustomed to them, and the resulting power drain was miniscule.Again this wasn't quite accurate? He knew this was both entirely illogical, and irrational. However although he might not admit it, even to himself? Deep down he knew his eyes served another purpose...His eyes were a tiny reminder - both to keep his morale up, and to sharpen his fury to a single deadly point. He knew those eyes would be the last thing they saw before they died...The last thing they saw before they all died!
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Mist is to rainbow
As seagull is to mirror
And when they dance together
They dance across the waves
Rainbow is to moment
As mirror is to mist
And when we dance together
We dance across the waves
-Finn & John Dowson-
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