Is was a dreamer of dreams. And so every rest she walked in a land unlike anything that was, and neither day nor night was rest to her. She could find nothing that seemed like where she walked in her dreams and she longed for it. Is peered out into the Brightlands, filled with the workings of her father and her mother, and saw space still for the things that appeared in her imaginings. She spun out of her mind a length of thread. And so from her fingers she formed a loom, and threads to string upon it. Her hands flew as if they had been formed for the task. And from them sprang and she spun many things into the aid of her mother and father and her loom.
First, said she, I will make a house, many houses for my beloved father and mother. For in them I have being and so in me they shall have a place to be. She gathered in her being as her father had taught her and let the radiance of her mother spring out from her being. And the gathering and the radiance became a home for The One Who Gathers and The One Who Shines. And Is saw brought into the world more of what had only dwelt in her imaginings.
She strung it in place with the threads from her loom, to secure it so that it could cling to the world, and so form other than a passing imagining. There it stays until her threads run thin or are cut. And that has not happened for a Brightwell in all our history. The home she called Dawnhome and sped to make many other such Brightwells. Swath after swath of bright houses she created and bound together, much like the clusters of lights from the many houses in a village when lamps are lit for the new year.
Though Empty took much solace and peace in the Darklands with his warrior bride and family, at times he heard now distant ringing and calling from the Brightlands. And while it swam about in his head in a disturbing way, he longed for the thoughts lodged in the sounds, and the free movement of thoughts that the sounds allowed. They drew him more and more, and he could not help one day but linger at the wall of the bright realm, flinching.
Amidst the noise he found one sound that did not make his head ring. It was the merry, hoarse laughter of a child in one of the twilit clearings on the very edge, just over the wall. Her hair blazed bright red, but all around her turned dark at her laughter. She took a blackened stone, and ran it over the stone at her feet. That also blackened, which only made her laugh the more.
He wanted to ask whence she was from, and his heart ached, for the resemblance of the child to his sister was great. But as he lacked a voice and could not climb over the wall, instead he braved a time watching the twilight clearing. He did not wait long. His surprise was full when she climbed the wall and ran into the darkness, her hair lighting her path. He stood, ready to flee in fear, but the beams from her hair did not assault the darkness. Instead they gathered it more deeply around her.
"Hello, man in the darkness!" She called softly but merrily, dancing in the innocent and uncoordinated way only children can as she spoke. Her hair painted lines in the air, and he took one of her blackened rocks, painting the same lines on the wall of the Brightlands. This made her laugh.
"I guess you say hello too! I sprang unexpectedly and sudden from one of the makings in the bright lands. I have no place or true family of mine in these lands, except to be scolded by Is for scorching her rocks and teasing her children. So I am staying with you, you know."
She hung her head, and her hair swung freely in a bright line. He copied the lines once again and her face brightened. He gathered the stones with him, the dark one to write on the bright, and wrote a name that would be hers once they framed the meaning and system of the new marks. He called her Darklight, and together to the Darkhome they went, where she was raised with her many warrior cousins as a daughter of the house.