Return of Light
Pain.
That was all she could feel, floating in this void. Her body was level, yes, in its fully laid out state—she could feel that, at least, aside from the pain, but mostly the pain.
Oh, Light, how it hurt. What was causing her so much agony? Why was she forced to feel such sweet torture? What had she done to deserve this?
Because you must suffer, said a little voice in her head, because you caused others to suffer and are now paying for it, my dear.
"Suffer? How did I cause others to suffer? I—I don't remember! I don't remember anything!" She felt her lips move in answer and then a fresh spurt of pain that made her cry out.
You will listen and not talk, my dear! This is only the beginning!
"The beginning? The beginning of what?" Was that fear in her voice? Fear, what was that? Everything was so confusing; she couldn't remember.
I said silence, brat!
More pain. Her body jolted with it and she cried out again but was still unable to truly move. She wanted to open her eyes, but… how?
Leave her alone!
A new voice. Female. Was it?
The other voice hissed. She is mine! Do you hear? Mine!
No, she is not! She serves the Light!
"The Light?" Memory began to stir; something warm began to grace through her, filling her to almost bursting. "Oh, yes, the Light! Oh, the beautiful Light!"
No! She is mine! Mine I say!
Away with you, Shadow-server! Be gone! The Shadow will not have her any longer!
Something shimmering began to glow around her; she could feel it. It was embracing her, bathing her in its warmth. Everything was growing brighter… Oh, it was so warm!
She was being lifted from the floating she'd been forced to endure. The pain was gone as well. She'd been floating for forever, it seemed. But, oh, the Light!
"Oh, Light," she breathed.
Someone screamed.
Her eyes flashed open.
—
A woman was cradling her in her arms, calling her a something. Was it a name?
She blinked and stared up at the woman, whose hair was… strange. It was long and an odd shade of blue… or was it green? She shook her head, clearing it. It wasn't important. She was back in the Light!
The woman was still talking to her, saying the same thing over and over. She focused on it, trying to make out the sound. It was so strange, but yet… it was so familiar. Her memory began to prick again but she pushed it away. She didn't want to remember now; she wanted to feel the Light. She'd been trapped for so long in that darkness… What was it the woman had called it? Oh, yes, the Shadow.
She shivered. She never wanted to go back.
The woman stopped calling to her and stopped, tears appearing. She opened her mouth, wanting to tell her not to cry; there was no reason to cry. She was safe; she was safe in the Light.
But then, who was she?
She stared up at the woman who was now hurriedly wiping away the tears, trying to not cry. Something about her was so recognizable, but yet she couldn't place it. Fighting against the feelings telling her to rest, she strained to remember. A name.
"Yunalesca?" she heard herself gasp out. A sob escaped the woman's throat and she cradled her closer, holding her against her body and rocking her back and forth.
"Oh, yes, darling, you do remember! I know it's hard, but please, don't fight. You're safe now; you're safe. Go to sleep. Worry in the morning," she blabbered, brushing a few strands out of her face.
Sleep. Oh, yes, sleep. She felt her eyes closing again and fear seized her. No! She had to stay in the Light! The Shadow would get her again—NO!
Light filled her, and she drifted into sleep's embrace.
* * *
Chappu tripped and fell forward, colors flashing in front of his eyes and through his mind. He gripped the sides of his head in his hands and winced, but it wasn't pain that he felt. Surprised, he let go. It was as if nothing had happened.
Startled, he got to his feet and glanced around. No one had even noticed that he'd fallen. But why had the colors appeared? What was their meaning?
He shook it off and started forward again in his swagger, his eyes on the bar in front of him. Tonight, he wanted to drink himself drunker than anyone had ever done before. Drunk enough to make him take off all his clothes and dance on the tables—and not even give half a damn.
It was loud in the bar, with the singing and dancing girls and the men all talking rowdily, some clinking class together in a toast. He took a seat at the bar and tossed his head the bartender.
"Wine," Chappu ordered and the man passed him a glass of blood-red liquid that Chappu quickly took a gulp of. Warmth hit him and he suddenly felt a little dazed.
"Marvelous," he murmured, drinking again.
"Easy, son, that's strong stuff," the bartender said, watching Chappu quickly down the rest of the wine in one long gulp.
"Mind you own business—and bring me another. I'll be over in the corner," Chappu snapped, getting up and stalking away to the table he'd spotted half hidden in the shadows of the corner. He sat down, already tipsy enough to have to blink several times when a barmaid brought him another glass of wine.
"Thanks," Chappu said, ignoring the fact that his voice slurred. This was what he wanted: to be as drunk as possible. He'd never drunk much before, a sip here and there.
He took another long drink and smiled into his wine cup. Yes, this was perfect. A dancer came up in front of, nearly popping out of her tight dress.
"Hello there, sugar. Care for a dance?" Her teeth were brilliantly white and she was pretty, Chappu admitted, but he wasn't interested in sex—not with her anyway.
"Sorry, my dear, but this—"—he raised his glass—"is for me and someone else."
She put on a pout and promptly sat down in his lap. Chappu nearly choked on his drink. He was beginning to get drunk, yes, but why did some dancer girl have to come along and ruin it?
"Are you sure, there, sugar?" One hand brushed his cheek and the other went and dangled over his crotch. He stiffened and grabbed her hand.
"I said no, honey," he said, firmly but sweetly. He pushed her off of him.
She made a noise and stomped one heeled foot, but Chappu ignored her and took another lazily draught on his wine. Who cared if she threw a hissy fit?
"No one turns me down!" she screeched.
Chappu wasn't sure how he knew; he just knew he did. In one swift movement, his right hand came up to block her slap and then to block her kick—and all without spilling a drop of good wine. After all, what good would it do to let it go to waste?
She shrieked and began to start hitting him. Chappu warded off her blows and set down his goblet, now thoroughly angry. In one swift move, he slung her over his shoulder and carried her outraged form to the door, dumping her outside on her rear.
"When I say no, I mean no. You got that?" he snarled, slamming the door shut and stalking back to his table. No one had even noticed what had happened just moments before.
Chappu scowled and drew his cloak around him. He dipped his head for another drink.
And stopped.
Slowly, he lowered the glass down and frowned at the man now sitting across from him at the table, black hood shading his face but those pale red eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"Who the hell are you?" Chappu demanded, drawing out each syllable.
"That is not important, boy. You feel it, don't you?" the cloaked figure said in a croaky, hoarse voice.
"Feel what?" Chappu muttered nonchalantly, sitting back in his chair and draping his arm over the back. He glanced up at the ceiling before allowing his eyes to move back to the black shrouded figure.
"Don't play games with me, boy. I know you can feel it pulling at you. The darkness is in your heart. Don't try and fight. Let the Shadow have you, boy," the figure hissed and the pale eyes turned darker, rubies shining in a cavern.
Chappu's deep blue eyes turned navy, like a gathering storm in the distance. He leaned forward onto the table, resting his hands on the edge. "There is darkness in my heart, yes, but only because the Light cannot shine without the dark. I serve the Light; I will never serve the Shadow," he growled.
The figure chuckled forebodingly and Chappu felt stealthily behind him with one hand to grip the Spirit Keeper that appeared while keeping his eyes trained on the figure. He wasn't going to die, not yet.
It happened very abruptly. One second, the figure was laughing and the next it had thrown off its cloak and lunged for him, a dagger evident in his hand. Chappu didn't hesitate; he sidestepped and brought the Spirit Keeper up with a loud yell and jammed it as hard as he could through the thing's middle.
The figure screamed and howled in pain as Chappu jerked the Spirit Keeper back out and slashed out with the blade, a quick slice removing its head.
The common room was deathly quiet as Chappu leaned back against a table, breathing hard and his heart pounding in chest like a drum. The Spirit Keeper was covered in dark red blood, some even black.
A Shadowfiend, he thought, staring down at the headless lump on the floor. He spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He reached for the wine, finished it off before turning, and, ignoring the stares, swept from the bar, and headed straight for the stables. He'd be damned if he'd stay in Luca another moment. Not if the Shadowfiends wanted him dead now.
But why?
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