Mullen Institute, Belfast
10 May, 2011
00:50—Dawnavan's Perspective
:-:
In the dream world, Dawnavan realizes the ferociousness of a Kresnik.
He has yet to escape the antithesis' dual assault: An entrapping vortex of blood, and a continuous blitz of varied strikes.
Dawnavan's unsure how he survived. Losing so much blood… Being clawed, battered and bruised… He should be dead.
"Guh, huh…ahh—!"
But he's still alive. Dawnavan's body is somehow enduring, despite being punished so violently… It's almost masochistic, surviving something this extreme.
I'm…still alive… It's been almost an hour, or at least I think so.
How is my body tolerating this?
"Our blood is special." The antithesis ceases its assault, allowing Dawnavan a moment to rest.
Dawnavan opens his eyes and turns his head leftward, making eye contact with his "other" self.
"My blood…is special?"
The antithesis smiles.
"Our wings aren't just for show.
We should realize it: The healing factor of a Kresnik is a great one."
That word stands out to him… "Healing…factor…"
—a gift granted to all nightwalkers. However, there are extremes to a healing factor: Some are weak, some are moderate, and some are powerful, possessing regenerative properties akin to an immortal.
Healing factor? Sounds like something out of Stan Lee's book.
If I have something like that… Right. That explains why I'm still alive.
"Do we really have time to think!?" The antithesis shoots its right claw for Dawnavan's skull, only to receive a surprise from the latter: Dawnavan catches the antithesis' hand, turns his waist and…
"Sah—!" —hammers his left heel onto its skull!
"Guh, ah—!"
The "other" self is launched through the corners of its vortex of blood, which shatters as it crashes into the earth!
With a flap of his wings of blood, Dawnavan recovers and descends to the ground… A passing wind accentuates the scene, cooling yet intense.
"Stop saying 'we'. It sounds weird." Dawnavan lands, and approaches the clearing impact zone. "If you're me, you should know that I have a sense of individuality. Even if you come from me, don't couple us as if we're mates.
That's self-demeaning… Don't belittle yourself."
The antithesis recovers, but is unable to stand. Dawnavan pities his "other" self, who seems so sad in his eyes.
This creature was created using magic. It is me, but it's not me.
It knows a lot about me, but it's knowledge is limited. I…am going to put this thing out of its misery. Being created for such a cruel purpose: I don't agree with it.
Dawnavan halts a few steps away from the grounded antithesis. He then extends his right hand, leaking a drop of blood from his palm that proliferates…and forms into an ornate claymore encrusted with diamonds and rubies.
A weapon materialized from his contract.
"I don't know what I'm doing. But I can hear their voices, my ancestors.
You're right: My blood *is* special.
Kreniks can craft biological weapons of masterful weight, density and endurance. Tools of war with unique attributes.
This is my first release… Sangui-forge: The Sword!"
According to legend, the Kresniks of old had mysterious powers; abilities that set them apart from most nightwalkers: Their blood could work wonders, saving lives and destroying their enemies. Their hearts were virtuous… They were a kind race, and that's why they couldn't betray the humans that gave them a second chance.
"This is a sword with exorcism properties. Should I cut you, you'd be banished from my dreams in an instant.
But…I can't, so I won't. I thought I had it in me, but I can't kill someone as pathetic as you… Do me a favor and disappear for a while?"
He can't do it… Dawnavan should kill the antithesis, but his heart won't allow him to. Such violence just isn't in him.
He turns his back to the antithesis, but… "You will have to, very soon."
—this doesn't last long. Dawnavan faces his "other" self, stunned it would say something like that to him.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not speaking in riddles. As I said before, you will have to kill soon. You won't have a choice. If you don't…you will die."
No matter how much he wants to deny this, the antithesis is right: There will come a time when Dawnavan must take the life of another. In the tides of war, death is inescapable; it comes to all, unbiased and unavoidable.
I'm fated to grace the battlefield. So, deny it or not, I'll have to kill if I want to survive… This thing is absolutely right.
"I know that, but this isn't one of those times. In case you've forgotten…" Dawnavan suddenly holds the tip of his sword to the antithesis' throat, intimidating it to utter silence. The "other" self looks into Dawnavan's eyes, and sees something he keeps dormant: His killer instinct. "—I won't kill myself unless I have to.
Darkness and light, they're both necessary. Should I eradicate one, I'd kill a part of myself… Now is not the time for that. So, this battle is over."
Dawnavan turns and begins to leave the field of anemones, but…
"You…need me?" —his antithesis halts him in his tracks. The "other" self stands, dusts itself off and returns its eyes to Dawnavan's back. "You…won't discard me, even if I try to invade your spirit?"
"Honestly, how could I invade myself?
You're me, so I'd be intruding my own soul, which isn't possible. I am myself, and no one else… That's why I refuse to discard you: Because you're me."
"…You're a fool, you know that?" The antithesis smiles.
Dawnavan looks over his shoulder. "I know that, and…so are you."
Everything goes completely back, all except for Dawnavan and his antithesis, who revert back to their original selves in a flash of crimson light.
I need myself, both my light and my darkness. Without one, I am incomplete.
Thank you for teaching me this, whoever you are.
"Be safe, Dawnavan. If you need me, I'm always here."
The antithesis answers, their thoughts as one.
Of course. Just be sure to answer me if I do.
Darkness consumes what's left of the light, and the dream ends.
…
Moments later, Dawnavan's consciousness returns. He opens his eyes, and notices it's still dark outside.
Stuart's still asleep in his bed, but he's lightly tossing.
"…Another nightmare."
Dawnavan sits up in bed, and leaves it to check on his boyfriend.
This wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened.
Stuart has nightmares all the time… I should stay at his side.
Dawnavan checks the alarm clock perched on the nightstand between their beds… It's currently four minutes before 1:00 in the morning. This means they've only been asleep for a few hours.
This isn't right. Stuart normally has nightmares around 3:00, so that means…
—he's not having an ordinary "bad dream".
He's absolutely correct: Stuart is undergoing the same trial; he must conquer himself. A great challenge indeed… Can he overcome the odds?
Mullen Institute, Belfast
10 May, 2011
00:56—Stuart's Perspective
:-:
Falling…falling… Falling into darkness.
Never-ending, perpetual, it keeps going and going.
When will it end? Or…am I doomed to fall forever?
An abyss of darkness: This is Stuart's heart; his "lonely" self.
The further he falls, the more his soul despairs.
"How long has it been?"
"How long" indeed. Time has flown gracefully since he began falling.
Stuart partially opens his eyes to see an inverted image of the darkened dreamscape. His heart swells with emotions… But these feelings, they're strange.
"Why…does it feel…like I've been here before?
Even more, this place… I'm always coming here in my dreams. Every night, I…
—I'm always here. This place is…"
In his heart, a curious warmth is conceived. A sensation so gentle, so comforting… Stuart closes his eyes, allowing his spirit to drift into a peaceful state.
"—this place…is…" The warmth in his heart intensifies just a little, and spreads throughout his body.
In these moments, an image comes to mind: A beautiful village bathed in sunlight, surrounded by a glorious countryside rich with flora and fauna. The borders of the village are crowned by a dome of crystal that nullifies the sun's ultraviolet rays… A place where humans and nightwalkers coexist, thriving together as a community.
Humans, nightwalkers; mortals and the undying… Together, as one?
Stuart tucks his knees in and inverts his position, switching from upside down to upright. He then forces himself to turn around by spinning his body leftward.
He's still falling, but his body has yet to touch the earth. The way things are looking, there isn't an earth to touch. But this image in his head…
—it's so beautiful. The harmony he sees…is uplifting.
"So peaceful… I wonder, where is this place?
Better yet, how is something like this even possible?
This is the aspiration of your great-uncle, Count Orlok. Stuart hears the voice that spoke to him during the flight to the UK.
"…That… It's you, my contract."
Yes, Stuart, you are correct.
The sun shines brilliantly, releasing sunrays that operate as a pathway…for a maiden of indescribable beauty and elegance, swaddled in lustrous, ornate robes. Stuart has never seen such an entrancing woman; a being like the sun itself.
"Who… Who are you?"
The beauty places her hand on his shoulder and smiles. Amaterasu-omikami.
Orlok was fascinated with the Shinto religion, and admired me so much that he sought my help. We became more than contracted partners; we became very close friends.
The Shinto goddess turns and observes the village below them.
Our contract was to ensure this would happen: Shangri-La. He became the Nightlord to ensure the resolution of my argument with my brother, Tsukuyomi.
Orlok pitied us, believing family should be "closely knit;" together as one. I pitied this world because it was falling apart… It was a match made in heaven.
Amaterasu giggles, realizing she made a pun of her origins.
Stuart receives it well. "Good one, miss. Never knew gods had a sense of humor."
It helps…when you're in mourning.
My family is predominantly Christian, but…
—a relationship that predates the Bakumatsu Era? Amaterasu is a Shinto goddess revered since the 8th century. This connection… Incredible!
It… For some reason, it feels like we're old friends.
I am your protector. But if you wish to befriend me, you're more than welcome to.
The goddess proves her omniscience, shocking Stuart.
"—!?
Well, I… Yes, I would like that."
Fufufu! Orlok was easily flustered as well.
You remind me of him quite a bit.
"…I…do?"
Yes, and that's how I know *you're* the one.
You, Stuart, are the scion of love: The creator of the "world utopia".
"Shangri-La," the proof of hatred's end; a land fit for all walks of life. But it seems so illogical, something like a delusion; a cruel hallucination.
It would be nice…if humans and nightwalkers could coexist. But something like this…
Nightwalkers were once human; thus, they are one in the same. Amaterasu quiets Stuart once again, earning his fascination.
"Humans and nightwalkers are the same? How so, sun goddess?
Born from humans, corrupted by evil; lineage passed down from generation to generation.
Nightwalkers are the proof of human resilience: They defied death and rose again, but their resurrection cost them dearly.
"What did it cost them?"
Their humanity, every spec of it.
Some reclaimed it with time; those known as the "Ascended". But they are outnumbered by those still consumed by darkness… The "Descended".
Nightwalkers are an unstable breed. Individuality separates them, but they are connected by the same thing that makes humans a peculiar species: Desire.
The pursuit for desire leads to madness, which further conceives what humans call "sin" or "transgression"... Shangri-La is a world free from corrupt social norms; the ways of Count Valdo and his morally degenerate followers.
I see… I finally understand now: This is a world absent of madness. A place where the Ascended can reclaim their humanity, and live with the humans they care about. And vice versa… Humans no longer have to live in fear of nightwalkers.
One people. One common goal. Liberty and justice for all.
Shangri-La… Its realization is the purpose of my existence.
Amaterasu smiles, pleased to hear Stuart's thoughts.
"In order to realize Shangri-La, I must first conquer myself.
But a place like this…has to be…"
The Nightlord unites daylight and moonlight, harmonizing all things.
"So there's no prejudice? No fear?"
Only against the Descended outside the dome.
"I see… So, the Descended still exist?"
Yes, but their leaders have been felled. The Descended live as a democracy separate from the Ascended's monarchy.
A peace treaty was signed to ensure amity between the settlements. Trade, commerce, industry; everything is done to secure longevity for all.
Shangri-La is truly a haven for nightwalkers and humans.
That is quite the responsibility, especially for an insecure bloke like me.
Can I really accomplish something like this?
Believe in yourself, and the allies you've been blessed with.
Stuart looks to the sun goddess, who faces him in confidence.
"I do. I do…believe…"
Then let your light shine, Stuart. Keep your eyes set on a brighter day.
We are one. Always remember that.
With that said, Stuart opens his eyes simultaneously with the manifestation of solar rays upon his back. These rays amass into the likeness of a bat's wings, and lift him high into the air with each flap. Higher… Higher… Faster... Faster…
We will create that world…me, my allies and my loved ones… So that everyone can live peacefully. No more fighting. No more pain. No more sorrow.
The only tears shed will be those of joy. Tears for the dearly departed…not because of homicide or genocide. Tears shed amid an emotional farewell. Tears shed because everyday…every single day of our lives…we have something to be grateful for.
Shangri-La… It will be ours.
Everyone, the pursuit begins anew. Starting now!