The God of Dark Places
Not again.
A piercing scream. The breath all at once left her lungs. Dry summer air, frozen still and scorching, something hotter, reeking of iron, splattered across her face. The gnawing coolness of dread threatened the edges of her vision.
Not again.
The crowd swarmed like a startled hive – blurred in motion. Her eyes never left from where the broken figure lay, rumpled upon the ground. The ever-growing pool of ruby liquid shone under the high-noon sun. The stiffness of the dirt below her hurt as she crashed upon it, but she was well past that now. Now, all she could see before her were sightless eyes and pallor skin.
Not again.
Consciousness came suddenly; surprising, painful, and humbling. Given the alternative, she could consider it a mercy, this sudden wakefulness, though this would be giving grace she did not have. Listening to the muffled but musical voice of her Mama in the kitchen and the answering brassy tone of her Papa, she rose slowly, allowing the comfort of their dulcet chatter to chase the fog of grief to the back of her mind.
The sun was just beginning to rise, the sky a pearlescent gray growing brighter. It would likely rain today. Her eyes traced the edges of the morning-dark forest; a view that had terrified her as a child now held the comfort of years long past. Just as she began to pull her gaze away and face the day ahead, something gave her pause. A figure hugged by the shadow. Her eyes darted back, and she rose from her bed.
There it stood, just barely perceivable in the darkness.
A series of knocks rapped loud and quick on her heavy wooden door. She shrieked, clutching her chest and whipping her head to the offense.
“My Lady?” her maid called, “I didn’t mean to startle you!”
As her chest heaved and the ringing of fear quieted in her ears, she turned back to the window. Her eyes made an immediate dash to the tree line.
Gone.
Her steps fell heavy against the marble floor, and the empty sound of her shoes clicking bounced off the walls and carried her to the end of the hall. This place had always felt like a true neutral to her. The emptiness seemed to be separate from the world beyond, out of time. She moved under the high vaulted ceilings, the sparse candlelight making her journey feel endless through the dark. In the distance, there was moonlight, slicing through the inky night and illuminating a small patch of hallway. She kept her eyes on that light as she moved, letting it guide her.
As she walked. her mind buzzed with anxiety. Mama and Papa had presented the portrait with big, distracting smiles.
He may not be the highest of rank, but he is a noble foreigner – which is always eye-catching!
How had they managed to find the last marriage prospect who had not heard of her curse, turned tail, and bolted. Though she had seen the noticeable growth in the size of her dowry chest. Men had always been the same; the prospect of wealth outweighed the risk of death.
Lifeless eyes flashed before her. She stopped without thought. Mouth going dry. Ice shot through her veins.
He had not been like that. The plan had been so simple: stay professional. Find a suitable match for a man of his means and birthright. Maintain distance. Keep the walls up. What a joke that plan was. The moment she met her Groom, she was lost. He met her defiance with patience, her cold cruelty with understanding, and each of her deepest flaws with love and mercy.
“After tonight,” he whispered, “you’ll need not be lonely anymore.”
Not again.
The cry of a crow through the night shook her from her stupor. The cool air filled her lungs as her sight grew clear once more. She jumped as she realized she was no longer alone. Someone stood just on the border of the light. Her wide eyes were locked on the figure, the darkness around them seeming somehow darker than any other.
Without her permission, one of her hands rose gently and reached towards the being. It appraised her – considering what she was offering. The shadow began to fade slowly, but she heard her voice call out before it fell from view.
“Will I see you again?”
Her heart beat against her ribs as the shadows parted, but she swore that she felt a gentle caress against her open palm.
Ink formed looping and grandiose letters on the paper before her. The Earl had petitioned her for her services. It seemed the rumored curse had not touched her profession. She had heard the whispers when she had dared brave the market.
Poor girl. Arranges all those couples, sees them all done right by and happy. Made widow on her wedding day.
Perhaps she had done it on purpose, set it all up to keep her dowry to herself.
No, I heard that a black cloud was spotted in the distance, a portent of doom.
I heard that a raven dropped dead when she accepted the proposal.
It was decided. She was deemed cursed. A tragic story for all the village girls to coo to each other before their own weddings. Would the legend change with time? Would the whispers turn her into a monster or a saint? Either way, it was too soon to tell.
The ostentatious handwriting was beginning to hurt her eyes, and her candle was nearly burnt to the wick. The dark night had come as it always did, and she fought the rising dread that accompanied it. She knew the nightmares would join her in bed tonight like always. The creak of her chair felt impossibly loud in the gentle midnight breeze. She stood to close the window she had opened when the sun was high and warm. The night scent of evening primrose hung around her like a final comfort for the war that was to come to her in sleep.
Goosebumps covered her flesh as she reached to grasp the cold glass of the window. As she leaned, she could not keep her eyes from searching that dark forest line. Her stomach sank when the darkness stood undisturbed. A small yet unmistakable ache made itself known to her. One she would not yet dare to name.
Her journey to her chambers was much the same. Every dark corner was scrutinized, all shifting shadows given attention. And yet, she remained alone.
Sleep came as fretful as always, her limbs kicking against their silken confines. Rebelling against the lightweight fabric’s entrapment. The nightmare, however, was different. This time, escape was impossible. Over and over, she watched with horror as her Groom was struck down. Each cycle crueler in its detail. His freckles were countably close in one, or how the blood stained his golden hair in another.
This one was incontestably the worst of them all.
Not again.
His cooling flesh was under her blood-slicked hands. His fingers clumsily gripped onto her bodice as his eyes darted between hers, brow pinched and mouth gasping. The wheezed whisper so painfully spoken; a declaration, an apology, words that carried infinite meaning. As all life drained from him, one thought repeated.
Not again.
Something loud pulled her violently from slumber. Her head spun as she shot up in her bed, chest heaving and face wet. An arid cough pushed itself from her lungs in a brutal outburst. Pain reverberated against the walls of her throat, the muscles swollen from the talons of the soundless screams that crawled from her in sleep.
A second less forceful crash sounded as the panes of her window bounced against stone, a jagged crack having formed in the glass. She approached the window and inspected it, finding the lock undone, something she made sure to do every night.
She cast her eyes to the woods.
Then, with a humble shawl pulled around her shoulders, she made her way.
The cold ground seeped into the soles of her feet as she stood. Black eyes of the endless starry sky stared back at her. The figure was clearer now: long jet hair, skin like storm clouds, and an ageless face. The silence stretched beyond her conception of time.
“Your darkness grew heavier tonight.”
Their voice was rainfall – comfort and melancholy.
“Yes.” She replied. “Thank you for your kindness.”
The figure gently ducked their head in modest acknowledgement. Their movement was that of gossamer. She paused, taking in the strangeness of the moment.
“Are you a Shade?” She inquired.
“Of sorts.” The Shade answered. “I cling to the dark places. To memory, good or bad. Painful either way.”
She stepped closer, “do all whom you visit see you?”
“Not all see me, no.” They began, “But all will come to know me in time.”
“I see.” She said, “will I see you again?”
The ghost of a smile haunted The Shade’s lips. “If you wish.”
The nights spent walking the forest with The Shade were miraculous. Her days were spent longing for the cover of night, for her companion to return to her.
She had found herself growing ever fonder of their companionship. With each meeting, The Shade grew less frightening and more familiar, their hushed epicene tone a comfort.
Tonight, she watched as they bent to observe a small wilting bud. With a phantom touch, they ran a finger up the stalk, color, and life returning to it inch by inch.
“So, you are a gardener.” She teased. The Shade watched the flower stretch its petals like a child waking from slumber. “It is an indulgent hobby.” The Shade added, rising to continue their nightly stroll. “It is one I am quite fond of. I’m sure it seems somewhat contrary.”
“It does seem an odd desire, given your nature.”
The Shade looked at their hand, “The universe exists in cycles, a series of beginnings and endings. I am to deal out one, I choose to participate in the other.”
She raised her foot to step over a large branch. A cold hand held hers in support, aiding her balance. When their grip loosened, she clenched her fingers tighter. If The Shade was surprised, they did not show it. Hand in hand, they resumed their pace.
Every few feet, they would pause and watch The Shade open colorful flowers, still vibrant in the dark. She felt an unexpected desire to speak candidly.
“I am telling my Mama that I will not marry again. I will tell her to call off the wedding.”
The Shade paused, “a change in plans.”
“A change of heart.” She corrected, turning to meet their boundless eyes. The Shade pulled her closer, their breath mingled in the intimacy of the night, hands still clasped.
“Yet you remain frightened.” The Shade acknowledged.
“I am afraid. Therein lies the difference.”
She took a shaky breath.
“I am afraid. I am afraid that my curse is real. I am afraid that all I love will leave me. I – I am afraid you will be taken from me too.” She confessed to the ground before her. Those familiar hands found their way to her. One held her cheek as its thumb swept the errant tear from her eye, while the other rested gently against her beating heart.
“That which is eternal cannot be taken.” The Shade whispered, “I am untethered from death. We coexist. Without one, there cannot be another.” Their wintry lips pressed against hers, and a sob of relief rang out from her as her fingers tangled themselves in their hair. There was infinity in the touch of their lips. There was a comfort like she had never known, like closing a book and knowing you are different from it. The feeling of endings and beginnings mingling as one.
“I come for all eventually,” The Shade spoke as their lips parted, “but you, I will never leave.”
Never again.