Prologue
He was only just a babe when his mother past away. She fell ill after childbirth and no magical remedies could cure her unknown sickness. Due to the sickness, she was unable to move and care for her child; She would lay in bed all day, occasionally holding her bundle of joy. As she lay, she grew weaker and frailer as each day slipped away into the night. She slowly began to fade just like the past.
Although she was ill, the baby was brought up strong and healthy. Her child was nursed and cared for by the midwives around the lord's castle and the baby grew into a boy, filled with wonder and yearned to fill his father's ebony boots.
He would watch his father carefully, observing every move he made and also every hesitation. As duke of Voldoa, the boy's father was a very busy man, though it did not stop him from visiting her. Late in the night, the boy would follow the duke to the duchess's bedchambers. In a crack of the solid oak door, he gazed at the couple, listening to their hushed speech and cries. He did not understand why his mother would not get better, though he did realize she was engulfed in darkness all the time, the night. This time, he would stay and overcome this darkness.
Disturbed from his thoughts, the boy noticed his father get up from the bed and slowly shuffle to the door. The man opened the door, stepped halfway into the hall and looked back at his beloved. He stared at her with soft eyes and hesitantly moved away, letting the door slide back into place. Just as the door came to a stop, the boy's hand shot from the darkness and held the handle. His face emerged from the shadows next and he glanced around before slipping into the quiet room.
The room was dark, only admitting a faint light from a corner that harbored a candle. He let a small sigh out. He walked towards the middle of the chamber and stared at the stony ceiling. He stood there for a good ten minutes, gaping at the legendary surroundings. Her bed was grand, almost a little too grand for a duchess, but alas she would not need it long.
The boy then stalked to the giant window, big as the entire wall, and pulled a string to draw the curtains. Pale moonlight flooded through the empty window and swallowed up the furniture like a churning sea to a fishing boat. He smiled that he overcame the darkness and went to his mother's bedside. Still smiling, he opened his mouth to say something, but then he frowned. She glowed in the light, her skin almost as pale as the moon itself. Fear filled his soul and he grabbed his mother and shook her shoulder violently. He allowed a cry to be heard, deep from his chest. Guards, servants and even the duke came rushing in the room.
The duke gasped and ran to the side which the boy was standing. He cast aside his son and threw his arms around his wife. The boy stumbled back, into a patch of darkness that hid from the moon's light. He fell onto his rump, with his head hanging down. He slowly looked up and glared at his father. He wasn't angry with his father, or sad from his mother's death. He thought to himself, the darkness did this. It filled her soul. The night will not have control. I will be that champion to deal with the night's monsters and evil. I will be the Night's Champion.