A/N: Written for the Acrostic-y Challenge of Chapter Titles,Chapter 1 using the prompt: "Yin".
Yin and her Vassals
Yin is always eclipsed by Yang, and they, the Dementors, are the antithesis, no matter who it is who gives them definition. They are the darkness that backdrops the light, the despair that overcomes their hope.
It is never the light that is the opposite shoved away from the front: the shimmering spirit guardians that bared their chests and lances and shouted the enemy name. That light never declared itself the enemy: it was the righteous, the correct, the one with the right to exist in their world.
They, the Dementors, were other-worldly demons that needed to be vanquished by the light. That's all they were: demons, who fed off fear and souls and despair, who lived in the shadows wrapped in cloaks of pure darkness, who played with the dolls left behind in their spare time.
And when the noble heart came and lit the flames alight, they scampered, reeling from too bright light. And if that light was strong enough, they'd be gone, and the world would be burning in happiness and hope and bloodshed –
Because if the Dementors were the antithesis, then blood was the natural order. Dementors did not touch blood; they touched only the deep feelings which uprooted the soul, and clung to them with formless hands. They could not burn cuts too deep to heal, or hold a sword that could cleave another in two and stay sharp. They could not nail beings to a crucifix and shatter their bones with an anvil. Their touches were tender; the despair they brought with them was a fleeting coolness compared to what they took in return. They could be good, if anyone was willing to define them as good.
But they were the antithesis, and it was the light, those spirit guardians, that had written the record books. Perhaps, if there existed a world wherein the evil of light had been revealed, they could have been seen as good. Where Yang was seen to be more than the life-giver: the spiller of blood and bones and baggage on snow-white petals. Where Yin could hide the taint with her soft shadowy dress, where she could soothe the sharp stinging pains of her brother's sword and offer eternal rest.
The Dementors were her vassals, just as the spirit guardians were her brother Yang's. And just as Yin herself was overpowered by the light, the Dementors were driven back by a fire that burnt out of control.