1.
Behind the Black

Kurt stood in the all-devouring darkness.
The loose asphalt under his shoes was crunching and gnashing with every ever-so-slight move. His feet shivered, tremored even, in the coldness that was sweeping around him. His breast nervously inflated and deflated, taking in the freezing, numbing air with every of his hectic, short breaths. His hands hung awkwardly by his sides, rolling into fists, again and again, as trying to rub some warmth and sense into themselves. Under the cold, his eyes began to tear. Salty fluid flowed downwards, soaking his lids and his tear sacs, turning them sore and stinging.

And through his bleary, glassy eyes, he espied a light cutting through the black; a single, dirty yellow orb enthroned several feet in the air.

Like in a daze, he took a limp step towards it, determined to leave the pernicious shadows on the unlit path.

It was an ordinary street lantern. Extremely ordinary. A grimy bulb fitted into a round scuffed fishbowl lamp, which sat on a grizzled iron post that was shedding its grey skin and rusting under the gnawing sea air. The crumbling tarmac it stood on did nothing short of sonsummating the picture of dilapidation.

Then he espied a figure that was huddled under the light. That creature of the night was clad in baggy trousers and a pitchblack hoodie with the cowl pulled over its head entirely, and seemed to lean on the post.

He took another step towards the suspicious character. Then the figure moved. From afar, Kurt saw how the hoodie, obscured by the erratic play of light and shadows, pulled a bar-like tool seemingly out of nowhere. Then he struck out. Kurt saw a flash flying as it whirled around. With a metallic clang, it collided with the post, sending a rain of sparks flying from the impact.
Then the character lunged once more, this time harder.

Kurt realised very slowly what that figure was attempting to do. Clang, the tool in its hands went a second time. Another set of sparks. The grimy light flickered momentarily.

Kurt stumbled forward, alarmed by what the other one was doing.
"Hey." He croaked hoarsely.
"Hey. Hey!"

The hoodie hacked away at the lamp post unshakenly.

"Stop! Stop it!"

Another clang. Another spark. Another momentary flicker of the light.

"Police!" Kurt yelled.

The figure struck out, but hesitated. Its cloaked head turned toward him.

"Stop it! Police! Stop!"

As Kurt stumbled closer and closer to the lamp, the attacker lowered his instrument of destruction dangerously. It was a long, robust woodcutter's axe, shimmering in the grimey light.

"Put… put that down!"

The figure turned around. And before Kurt could react, it darted to the side. With a single, fluid motion, the character dove into the night beyond the street lamp's shining where he had come from.

Kurt reached the maltreated lamp post. Resting against it with one hand, he stared into the direction the assaulter had fled to. An unrevealing, gaping blackness stared back.
The hoodie was gone, gone for good.
In an approach of frustration, Kurt clasped the lamp post with the other hand, and leaned his head on it, like he was locking it in a despaired hug.

A world of darkness, and one light; what it needs the least, is more darkness.

But again, despite everything, the light flickered. And it flickered stronger and stronger.
"Oh damn. No."

God knew what awaited him out there, should this light go as well. He was lost, far away from the closest street or house, disoriented and trapped by the rising night. He knew not where to go, nor did he recall what way he had just came from.

He felt his phone in his pocket. He wondered, should he call someone for help? But whom? Magnus, his partner? Lisa Holgersson, his chief? His little Linda? And what should he tell them? That he was in the middle nowhere? That would help them as little as him. It would just end up unsettling them. And he didn't want that to happen.

Another flicker.
Then the streetlamp went out entirely.

Kurt was standing in the dark. That was it. A bungling cop, wandered out into the night, and did not find his way back. He was too scared to call out for help, and he thought he knew better than to bother the ones he knew with this predicament.

He felt the cold nagging at him again. He could not stay here, but venturing out there, into the blindness which the dark invariably augured, was out of the question as well.

"What is the matter, supercop? What are you thinking you're clinging onto there?" a scornful voice rang out from somewhere close.

Kurt whirled around nervously, trying to make out the source of the voice. Then he noticed he was indeed still clinging to the freezing lamp post. His lips trembled as he tried to counter up the strength to face the voice.
"Who… where are you?"

"Right over here, faintheart!" the voice shouted.
A split second later, Kurt felt something sharp fly right by his ear. With a panicked yelp, he ducked to the ground as something weighty and metallic hit the pavement behind him. In nigh-panic, he sunk into his knees, breathing even shorter and louder as his panic tripled. He was still blind, he was still trapped in the gaping darkness.
And now there was someone, or something out there, out to get him. He couldn't help but whimper as he looked around frantically, searching for some trace movement in the nothingness.

"Have you been looking for me, copper?" the voice snarled. Yet it now seemed to come from an altogether different direction.

"I… I…"

"Or have you just 'stumbled across me'?"
The voice was closing in.
"Shame it's just your light that has gone."

Holding one hand protectively in front of himself, Kurt stood up again, his knees shaking as he did, continuously staring on the big black curtain that had seemed to have fallen all around him.

"I would have expected someone like you to have more guts than that."

A gloved, bony hand shot out of the darkness, catching him by the throat and violently pinning him against the lamp post. The detective gargled and lunged for air in utter panic as the grip tightened. With his own hands, he tried to divert the attacker's grasp, but it was insanely strong.
He felt that the person whom the hand belonged to stepped closer to him. Kurt felt his mouth breathing only half a metre away from his own.

"In a way, shouldn't you have wondered how something like that hasn't happened sooner already?"

Kurt pressed his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing. Yes, of course he had wondered. Was it all going to end now?

"Saying nothing is not going to save you now, detective."

Kurt felt like saying something. He breathed something weakly.

"What was that?" the voice asked.
"Can't you speak up? Or are you too weak to pull even that off?"

By now, Kurt was praying that it would simply end. The pressure in his throat had become unbearable.

"Hey Kurt."

How did he know his name, the inspector thought.

"You never wondered what's behind the black, did you? Did you?"

With the immense power that held Kurt in place, the attacker lifted him into the air, leaving Kurt figeting and wriggling several inches over the ground like a fish.

"Not that you had the to ever go out there and find out for yourself. You were always stuck to the lights like a moth. What you would find out there would surprise you. "

The assaulter carried him away. Kurt felt it, the saving metal lamp post slipped further and further away from his grasp.

"Because occasionally, all you need to overcome your obsession with light is a healthy amount of darkness!"

The hand swung around, pulling him along by the neck. He felt the momentum build up, all the way from his head to his dangling feet.

The the hand let go. Kurt felt the wind flying past him, the sense of balance in his head went amok, he could feel that he was in free fall, flying through the darkness after beeing catapulted there by his mysterious attacker.

He smashed onto the ground, rolling off involuntarily like a rag doll. The impact left him bereft of all power. He lay there limply, slowly regaining his breath.

Looking up, he saw nothing but the night's sky, speckled by a few weak stars hanging far above him.
But as he tilted his head left, he noticed that he still wasn't alone.
Out of nowhere, there was suddenly a tall creature towering above him on four legs. It was about as dark as the night sky - the only thing which stood out were its bright, white eyes.

What was it? An elk? A bull? A horse?
Before he could finish wondering, the beast's gaze fixated on the exhausted human at its hooves.
In a manner that a horse would scrabble the dirt pavement of a circus' manege with its front hooves, this one took its limbs to the policeman's head, carving something into the earth around him. Almost as if it was trying to prop up his head on a pile of dirt. Then the creature stopped again, looking back up.

"Enough!" a powerful voice suddenly roared.
Shocked, Kurt pressed his eyes shut, trying to lift his limp hands above his face prudently.
A booming female voice that radiated authority and determination.
"This is enough. Let this farce finally end! One has tortured this squalid soul for too long already. As the Princess of the Night, I command that this whirlpool of fear and anguish shall disperse!"

Still shivering from the shock and the cold, Kurt soon felt something soft and fleecy growing under him, tickling his neck. It was no longer the concrete that he had walked on before. It was like grass, or moss.

With his eyes still pressed shut, he noticed how everything was becoming lighter around him. His surroundings continuously became clearer and brighter.

He was in…