It was only darkness. It might always be darkness. She might have given up long ago, if it weren't for one thing.
It was dim, faint. But she remembered light. She remembered a world outside the darkness, a white crown, a soft touch.
But any time she tried to think on those memories, they were quickly consumed by one memory alone.
Falling, falling, falling. Falling for infinity, cast aside because she had not been perfect.
Why? She did not recall. All she knew was that she had failed, something. What that something was she did not know. Which made that lasting sting of failure all the worse.
It made her never want to get back up. Which was probably the intent.
And yet…the memory of light tugged at her. She wanted to see it again, wanted to feel it again.
So finally, she moved.
There were things piled atop of her, cold carapaces and tattered cloaks. Empty eyes stared at her as she rustled, pushing her way through the pile. She felt a strange sense of loss - but what had she lost? She did not know.
Had she even had anything to begin with?
She continued rustling. There were a lot of things, all broken and empty. They seemed like her, but not like her at all. She puzzled over it, and finally settled for dead.
But if these things were dead, what was she? Not dead? What did that mean? What was the difference?
Then, suddenly, there weren't any more dead above her. It was empty, empty air. She pulled herself out of the pile, and looked out into the open darkness.
It was dark, unsurprisingly. Wispy tendrils of a shadowy substance rose around, and the dead things were everywhere, piles upon piles of them. None moved like her, and all were filled with that same emptiness.
She felt that same emptiness. But there was also something else. What was that something else, though? She didn't know.
It was something, though.
She carefully walked through the darkness, the dead shifting beneath her small, formless feet. Her gaze constantly drifted upwards, hoping to catch even a glimpse of that light she had seen. But not a single glimmer came into her view.
Had the darkness taken it too? After all, it was everywhere. Was it all there was?
No. She refused to believe that. There was something more up there. Something she had to see. Something she needed to see.
Was that what made her different than the dead? This need? After all, they needed nothing. They were just there, in the darkness, no spark in their eyes, no purpose. They were nothing.
She was something. Something born from nothing. Something with a purpose.
The dead ended, replaced with stone, arching high up through the darkness. Mysterious grooves weaved through the surface, filled with an even deeper darkness. She looked up, and could not see the end.
But she had also thought there was no end to the dead. If they ended, so too must this wall.
And beyond that wall, there must be something.
She gently prodded around, and found that there were platforms in the wall, climbing up through the darkness. Her small hands gripped the cold stone, and she pulled her body up, gingerly creeping up the wall.
And so she climbed. She climbed and climbed, passing by more broken masks and torn cloaks. They were all dead and nothing.
She would not be like them.
The climb continued, for how long she did not know. Eventually, though, she saw a glimmer, as silver spikes lined the walls. Many of the dead were skewered upon them, their cloaks shredded to nothing.
Curiously, she reached and brushed her hand over some of the spikes. She hissed and pulled it back immediately, a dark substance dripping from her hand and a strange, unpleasant sensation searing it. She tucked it under her cloak and continued her climb, skirting around any of the spikes she found.
She began to hear a peculiar clicking sound, as if things were moving above her. She felt rather curious - were they like her?
After more time, she found her answer. A strange, black creature shuffling along the ground, many legs clicking under its shell. And its eyes - they glowed with a burning orange light that filled her with unknown fear and anger.
This was not the light she sought. She knew, by some base feeling within her cloak, that this was bad light - a light that she knew would destroy her if she did not destroy it.
It slowly scuttled towards her, and she kicked it. Which had no effect except to make her foot hurt like her hand. The creature nipped at her but she backed away quickly, not wanting to get hurt more.
The bug continued creeping along, moving slowly towards her. She leaped away, landing on the next platform above it.
The bug didn't even seem to notice. It glanced around, then walked over to one of the dead and started crunching up its mask, slowly eating away at it. She stared passively at it, unsure what to think.
Then she remembered her goal and continued climbing.
There! A faint blue light. It looked friendly and appealing, and she sped up her climbing to reach it.
It came from a wide cliff, overgrown with deep blue vines. The light came from little bulbs across it, adding color to the darkness. A large stone with a blue indentation sat by a particularly thick mass of vines, and she walked over to look at it.
It was smooth and looked as if it was awaiting some sort of object. Staring at it, it seemed to remind her of something, and she held out her cloak. There was a strange wooden belt under there, with several similar notches.
She needed to collect something. She needed to collect power. She needed to become stronger.
She looked up again. The power was above her, she could feel it. She needed to go up.
She closed her cloak again, and turned back towards the platforms. But something glimmered in her vision, and she looked towards it.
A strange, purple clawed branch, growing out from the stone. Somehow, even in the darkness, it was here. Just like her.
She walked over to it, her dark hands brushing against it. It called to her, she realized. As if it was meant for her and her alone.
Curiously, she tugged at it. The branch shimmered, and shifted in the dirt. She gave it a stronger tug, and she heard a distant, melodic sound, unlike anything she had ever heard. She tugged again, and the branch came free, glowing in her hands. The clawed end looked sharp, and the other end seemed to form a long, curving point, several unusual notches in it. One glowed, and a strange spirit shape formed in it, a soft white that stood out from the great black she was used to.
Her mind realized it was because she had given the branch a power source - one her mind called soul. There were several more notches, she realized - for more, alternate sources. A new purpose dawned for her.
She needed to find the rest, so she could combat that horrid orange light. She did not know how she knew - only that she knew.
She stared at the clawed end. It was like the spikes. Could others be hurt by the spikes? Would this work the same way?
She spotted another of those bugs on a platform above. Nimbly she climbed up to it, and as the bug came for her, she swung the branch at it.
As the branch connected, the bug's shell cracked, and it was thrown back. Mindlessly it scurried towards her, but she lunged and struck it again, throwing it off the platform. It fell down into the darkness, and she heard its shell crunch, joining the rest of the dead.
The branch was a weapon. As she watched, a few fragments of white energy crept up it, slipping into her cloak and causing her to feel a little stronger. The conclusion was easy.
Hit things with the stick, and she'd get stronger. Additionally anything she hit with the stick enough times would become dead, and the dead meant nothing to her.
It made perfect sense.
She looked up again. The darkness, she realized, had an end - high above, a roof of stone and broken shells sealed it in. But she knew that if it had an end, perhaps there was indeed something beyond it.
She climbed ever faster. The walls, she noticed, had some of the bugs creeping up their sides. A few strikes with her branch struck them down, draining their soul. She realized she was enjoying it. Every broken bug to her name gave her a little thrill.
She wondered what else could do that.
Finally, she reached the highest platform. Ahead of her was one last one, shining with a strange metal. It seemed to have been weaved there, and emanated a slight forgotten light, an echo of what had stood here.
She leaped across, landing smoothly on the metal. It clanked beneath her tiny feet, and she looked up to see its end.
There had once been an open arch here, she knew. But now it was sealed by a great stone door. When she prodded it with the stick, strange white patterns lit up, blocking her from hitting the actual door.
She felt a burning sense in her mind - anger. She was so close - so close, she could feel it. She whacked at the door several more times, to no avail.
"Not yet, little vessel."
"The time will come."
"Rest."
"Rest…"
***