My Light Burns For You

by Plan with the man

The Dark Age was a hard time for all. For the lightless, dodging Fallen and avoiding their raids while being under the thumb of Warlords was just another Tuesday compared to the often occurrence of almost starving to death. While for those with light, the ones who didn't use their abilities for subjugation or molestation of resources had to hide their powers away.

The moon hung low in the sky, the last remnants of Twilight were fading as the Ghost reached the top of the hill; upon the top lay a tombstone with words written in a language long dead. The Ghost knew that his chosen was here, buried below the ground in a casket forged of lowly wood, now rotted and decayed. They were to be something great, a person who would share great warmth and love to all who would need it, the Ghost's chosen was to be a luminous soul.

Their light burned brightly below, and all the Ghost had to do was gently gather it together and recompile it into their chosen's form. However, the Ghost would have to revive their charge where they were laid to rest, and hopefully the Ghost could assist in the arduous task of digging through frozen solid ground.

The Ghost's shell expanded as it took the light into itself, adding onto it as it quickly but carefully reconstructed their chosen's body below them in the dirt, inside of the decayed wood that had been their resting place for the past hundred years. The Ghost's shell closed tightly as a beam of pure light shot into the ground, their chosen was alive now, and their bond was already forming. Through their link the Ghost spoke but three words.

"Eyes Up Guardian."