Night Song
Written and Illustrated by Sierra Rosewood
Author's note: Perhaps those of you that are fascinated by mystical creatures or are of Celtic Lineage such as myself know of Death Omens. Born from Celtic legend, They are spirits that collect the souls of the dead. They can summon souls and spirits to do their bidding, and usually have long white hair. They always carry a weapon with demonic powers such as the legendary Grim Reaper's scythe. The major character in this story is a Death Omen, who feeds off of people's dreams. He is known only as Night, and is feared by all. He is neither living or dead. n his journey throughout his life, he meets people that know what it's like to be so despairingly different, and he befriends them. They change him into a different person, more outreaching, and willing to help others. He is a higher class Death Omen, and only collects the souls of those with magical abilities, and since the few that have those abilities rarely die, he rarely has to collect souls. But it is still a torturous job, destroying his soul. his friends help him cope with this by adding adventure and friendship to his life. Before long, him and his friends are wrapped up in an adventure, the fate of Iradador resting on its success.
About Iradador: It is impossible to explain everything about this amazing land. You can compare it to the rolling green hills of Ireland, a haven filled with joy, despair, treasures, and everything there is. It's based in a medievel time period, and has many different continents. The majority of this story takes place on Pinefire, where there are different realms named after the many different elements. the people in each realm control that element. There are many varieties of creatures, some of which you might have heard of before and others you might not have, like Centaurs, Sprites, Elves, Faeries, and especially, the creatures this land is most famous for-dragons.
The weather is always changing, and is confused by all of the magic in the air. for example, there can be a cloudless rain, snow when it's warm, or cold when the sun is beating down, and it should be hot. There are many mysteries to this ever-changing place, and can only be discovered by following these many characters on their exotic adventures to new places, in order to save the world they love dearly.
Introduction by the narrator:
It's already tough being a teenager, especially in a world filled with evil, magic and everything under the sun. Those with magical powers struggle even more than the average villager or peasant boy or girl. but try putting yourself with I am, and you'll know you have it easy. Try being a Death Omen, a Death God, Soul Stealer, whatever name you people dubbed on me-a collector of the dead. I am also, like most Death Gods, a dream-eater. I do not eat your foul human food. I could if I wanted to, but I have no wish to do so. It would do no good for me, when I all I need to live upon are the dreams of others. And I don't mean the hopes and goal, I mean literally, the thoughts they think, the lands they go to when they sleep. This keeps Death Gods alive, for we have sad lives, that no one would desire, and we need something good and imaginative in our lives. The best way to get this is through other people's dreams. Do not expect this story of my life to be a happy one, for it's not. but it's not miserable. I am luckier than most Death Gods now, for my life has changed, and it becomes happy. So let me rephrase that last sentence. Do not expect my life to start off happy.
Chapter One
I sat awake that night, that night before I started school. I did not sleep, my kind did not need it. So there I sat, in the field behind the local barn of the small town I took shelter in. I was fourteen, and finally decided I should start school. My task was given to me at birth, and did not require an education. But, the only way to…..er….. 'reach out' to the living world, was to become a part of it. So, I decided to do what most kids my age had been doing for years: I learned. I had no house, so I usually slept in woods or fields, no matter what the weather. I did not know what cold was, so it did not bother me.
So I sat, among the barley and green grasses, watching the stars twinkle far above me in the velvety purple sky, waiting for the dawn. I sat like a statue, not moving, not even breathing, for I didn't need to. After a while of sitting there, the purple sky grew lighter, and then turned to a lighter purple, and then a pink and pale blue, as the first rays of the sun pierced the vast expense of skies above the green hills. Once the morning star showed, itself, I slowly rose, and brushed my silvery hair back out of my face. The silvery-green tips just fell back over my forehead, and I gave up the effort, stretching my muscles.
Now, let me make something clear to you. I have told you all about how different I am. Yet everyone seems to make the same mistake over and over: I may not be living, but I'm not dead either. I still exist, and I still have feelings. I feel pain like everyone else, of the body, but mostly, pain of the heart.