by Ivory Autumn
“Stay your sword!” The Fallen warned, holding aloft his hand. “This is as close as I will ever allow you to ever get to me.” He laughed and unfurled a dark sheet, unveiling two figures that had been hidden in the mists of darkness behind him. As the vapor settled, Andrew could see Ivory standing alone beside Croffin. Both were chained to The Fallen, fettered in darkness to the creature Andrew so loathed. Ivory’s face and skin were covered in dark silt and grime. Her skin glowed, making her look radiant and beautiful though her dress was torn and her hair hung down her face in black, oily knots. Her eyes were filled with light, and her face lit up even more when she saw Andrew and Freddie standing there.
Croffin’s also looked different. His fur was matted and dirty, but he had a warm glow about him. Indeed, he did not look like the same self-centered coon he had once been.
“Andrew!” Ivory cried, stretching out her hands towards him.
“Ivory?” Andrew called, aghast.
“Yes, Ivory,” The Fallen growled. He yanked her to her knees and ran his fingers through her ragged hair. “She is such a bright creature. It would be a shame if I had to take that away from her…” He moved his finger from her hair down to her neck, holding it in a tight grip. “I could breathe out her life in an instant, like blowing out a candle.” He paused, glancing at Andrew with a cruel smile.
The Fallen moved around Freddie and Andrew, shrouding Andrew’s view of Croffin and Ivory, his oily cloak leaving a dark residue on the ground around him like a festering slug. Talic cowered in The Fallen’s shadow, shivering, and moaning. “You see, Andrew,” The Fallen prophesied, “you can’t win.”
Andrew stood transfixed in place. He looked from Freddie, then to the army of light battling below them. He knew that those brilliant souls fighting were not just ordinary people. For ordinary had ceased to be, in this time of darkness. One could not simply be gray, just as one could not simply be passive anymore. The darkness had summoned them, defining who and what they were, demanding an accounting of what they were made of, and which master they truly served. The only gray area that still existed was a realm in itself, where one joined with the shadows and worshippers of darkness.
For those who held hope and light in their hearts, there were only two choices---light or dark. If one was diluted or mixed, they would have not had enough conviction to venture fourth. They were now the stars that had ceased to be, now illuminating not the sky, but the ground.
A thousand thoughts rushed into Andrew’s mind at once. Despair, anger, rage, hope, fear, frustration. He had seen the pain in Ivory’s eyes. He had seen fear in Croffin’s trembling figure. He could hear the sound of Talic’s frustrated cries. He could feel the strength of those who battled below him, their courage surging through his sword begging him to action. He could not abandon them. Nor could he condemn his friends to death. How was he to choose? What was he to do? Were his friend’s lives less than those who battled below him? Was the total greater than these individuals he cared for? Many lives now depended on him. But did that mean he was suppose to sacrifice the lives of his friends for the greater good? Were their lives less important than the many?
He set his jaw, and shook his head. No. He could not let his friends die. Nor would he forsake those who battled in the behalf of light and good. He had to believe that there was a better way. Hope spoke to him of a third choice, The Fallen could never understand. Every ounce of strength that shone in his blade counted---this was the great truth The Fallen had always disregarded. The power of one, of the individual---a power that was stronger than The Fallen himself. No. He would not forsake anyone. He would fight. It was time. The Fallen was afraid of him. Knowing this was enough.
“I warned you!” The Fallen eyed Andrew’s defiant face with careful scrutiny, then yanked Ivory and Croffin to him, pressing them close as if ready to suck their light into his own being.
Andrew tightened his grip on his sword, making his choice. He let out an angry cry. Raising his sword, he ran through the dark mist towards his friends. The light from his sword cut through the dark curtain of The Fallen, illuminating Ivory and Croffin in a startling glow. The Fallen shrunk back as if startled by Andrew’s sudden boldness. Without hesitating, Andrew brought his sword down on the darkened chains that bound his friends. The chains broke in a flash of shattered light. He turned around looking for Talic. But saw only The Fallen looming over Freddie.
“Freddie!” Andrew cried, putting himself in front of his friend as The Fallen breathed out a wave of heat and ice over him.
“What can a mere lamp do against a volcano of blackness!” The Fallen roared, sending another blast over Andrew.
Andrew held his sword above him, deflecting the blast of ice and heat. “The only thing lamps can do! Shine.”
“Shine?” The Fallen roared so loud that the earth trembled and cracks opened up in the tower floor. “You’ll need to do a lot more than that to defeat me.” He drew out a long, black whip from the darkness, and snapped it over Andrew’s sword, causing the ground to shake, and the earth to rumble, sending bits and pieces of fractured light and darkness swirling in every direction. The Fallen surged with anger. Billows of dark clouds rolled off him like smoke from a demon’s chimney.
Andrew stood in front of his friends, catching the whip with his blade as it lashed down upon them. The whip snapped back, its tip fracturing against the light of the sword, in a loud resounding crack, causing a thousand pieces of light to spill around them like tinkling glass.
The Fallen churned and rolled, his countenance dimming with each angry gust of air he breathed in. “You will feel my power!” he roared, reaching out into the darkness, twisting a thousand thick strands of darkness together in one long, thick, powerful whip, more terrible and lengthy than the first. “You will worship me once and for all, and bow to my great unending power. No one can stand against me and live!” An echoing rumble resounded through the darkness as he brought the dark whip down over Andrew. A loud, resounding snap vibrated through the air as the whip and the sword clashed in a terrifying explosion of light and sparks. Fire and ice rained down over Andrew in a surging gust.
The Fallen lifted the coil of twisted darkness and lashed it against Andrew once more, with such force and strength, that it split and cracked the beam of light emanating from the sword, sending little splinters of darkness ripping through it like a thousand black snakes, wrapping itself around the sword, smothering its brightness.
Andrew cried out in pain as the great force of darkness hammered against him.
“Ha, ha, ha!” The Fallen’s powerful voice rang out, as his darkness swirled around Andrew, sticky as caramel trying to bond itself to whatever it touched. Andrew tried to retreat from the darkness, but it would not let him go. He felt entangled in a web of darkness so strong that even his sword could not penetrate it.
The Fallen reached out and pulled the sticky coil of darkness to him, yanking the sword away from Andrew’s hands.
“No!” Andrew faltered, falling to his knees as the sword was torn from his fingers, and clattered to the ground, far out of his reach. He gasped, and fell, feeling just as much pain as if someone had ripped his hand off.
“You are nothing,” The Fallen roared, snapping the dark whip against Andrew’s back. The black tentacles of the whip pressed against Andrew’s chest, squeezing him. The pressure from the dark coil encompassed him on all sides. He reached out for the sword in desperation, gasping in pain. He could feel the strength of the sword ebbing out of him as though he had been unplugged from life itself. His right arm went lifeless and as numb as it had been before. The pain from his old wounds The Fallen had given him returned. He felt as if he had been immortal, without fear, strong, powerful, only now to be struck down and thrust into a broken body. He cried in frustration and pain, feeling the strength of the thousand shining souls he represented slowly ebb out of him. He had foolishly thought the sword had healed him.
But no. The strength that had renewed him was not his ow
n.
He reached through the coil of darkness, for the sword, but it was too far away. His mind whirled, his head swam.
The Fallen loomed over him, basking in his victory. “It seems you are not the only one living on borrowed light!” The eyes of his enemy glistened with a dark light. Every shadow that had encompassed The Fallen stood still. Just as The Fallen reached out to take hold of the sword, Croffin darted out of the shadows below The Fallen, snatching the sword out his reach.
“Ha, ha!” Croffin howled out. “Too fast for you, you overgrown shadow bottom, haha!” He scurried over to Andrew, and dropped the sword at his feet. “Here, Andrew,” Croffin panted, looking at Andrew with eyes filled with remorse and humility. He placed Andrew’s hand on the sword, and patted it. “I am sorry for all the hurt I have caused you. For all the bad words I said, and read,” he whispered. “I hope you will remember that.”
“I will devour you!” The Fallen roared, catching Croffin with a long coil of shadows, yanking Croffin back.
"Please..." Croffin howled as The Fallen dangled him above his dark folds. “No! Noooo!” His howls were suddenly cut off as The Fallen devoured the creature in a puff of black vapor.
“Croffin!” Andrew called, his voice catching as he wrapped his fingers around the sword. New life instantly flowed through his body, like a fish put back into water, like a bird given wings. He rose to his feet and faced his enemy. Andrew could once again feel the power in the sword. More hearts than he could count, brilliant, and bright beat within in his own chest. Anger shone in Andrew’s eyes. The Fallen would pay for what he had done not only to Croffin, but to all those whose lives he had cut short.
“Angry?” The Fallen bellowed. “Yes. I can see it in your eyes. You didn’t want your little coon friend to die. How sad. Well, what about these others? You don’t want them to die either, do you? He motioned to Ivory and Freddie, who stood behind Andrew. “It seems you want a great many things from me; the belt of Orion included. How about we make a deal, and all will be forgiven.”
“Deal?” Andrew questioned, anger simmering inside his chest. “I don’t make deals in the dark.”
“Dark?” The Fallen questioned expelling rivulets of light from his shimmering being. “I see no darkness? Only light.” He pushed aside the shrouded mantel he wore, showing off the brilliant light of Orion’s belt. The three stars embedded in it sparkled and gleamed, blinding Andrew by their brilliance.
“You see. I am light!” he roared, beaming before Andrew in all his stolen glory. “I am great, and glorious light. Cower before my splendor!” the being thundered, spitting out sparks from his mouth and unfolding all his magnitude before Andrew, like an endless scroll. “I am greater than any one being in the entire universe. All cower before me. Darkness has been subject to light for far too long. Now it is light that is subject to me, to my will. And it obeys me, as you soon will. Nothing, not even you and your army can take back the light and break the great power I hold. Worship me, and I will let you live in the pavilion of my shadow! Both you and that sword shall drink of my eternal wrath. You cannot change what has been written in the stars, their wisdom and knowledge absorbed into myself. Believe me. I know what the end will be!” The Fallen opened himself wide, revealing his full power and glory for all to see. Light and shadow surged through the air, hot and icy, burning and cold. The Fallen stretched himself out like a dark, vast, webbed map, revealing thousands upon thousands of brilliant orbs of light snuggled into his black core that were wrapped in a dark shell-like encasing, as if he had hid them there for later digestion.
“Behold my glory!” The Fallen thundered, spitting out oceans of dazzling sparks, still unfolding himself like an endless scroll. Light, and radiance swirled around him.
“Behold my power, my light, and my might! Bow before me! Bow!” His face gleamed with moonbeams. His skin vibrated with the heat of the sun. But behind all the light and glory, there lurked a repressed darkness that itched to consume and devour. His frame was huge, stretching out in every direction. The stolen light of sun, moon, stars, life, and light that he bore, shone in every direction in a blinding wave of light, heat, and ice, but dimmed, and diluted by his own person.
“I will never bow to a shadow, for that is all you are,” Andrew answered, shielding his eyes. “I will never cower before a void which robs others of light in order to gratify its own emptiness. You are a being which will never be filled. A being who will never allow others to be full. It is you who will be made to bow!” Andrew could feel his entire body tingle with the power granted to him from the sword. It filled him up, nearly consuming his flesh by its energy, as if eager to do what it had been made for. The time was now. Andrew raised his sword and ran into the open folds of the void’s chest, splashing through the great curtain of darkness.
The Fallen roared, and cried out in anger. Still Andrew cut through the dark folds, diving deeper into The Fallen’s depths, pushing against the swirling masses of darkness, in bursts of light and shadow, as if he had been plunged into a current of black water. Heat, fire, and ice surged around him, trying to hinder his way. Still he pushed onward, disappearing completely into the void, where he was transported into a colorless wasteland of fear and shadow, of muted and mingled sounds and stolen light. He felt shrouded in mist, confused, and lost in this endless void. Then, his eyes burned green, showing him a path through the darkness, to The Fallen’s weakest spot. There, just beyond him, was The Fallen’s core and heart, set in a colorless sheet of blackness. Its heart was blacker than any pit, deeper than time itself, endless as eternity, hungry and empty as a soul that once was, but now would never be. It pulsed and throbbed like a nightmarish sea creature, sucking in the accumulating sparks it held within its being, lighting is black core for a small second before sucking in more, in an never-ending hungry and desperate quest for more. Just barely alive to be existing in a desperate, clinging, clutching state of something, nothing, and never enough. In this dark heart existed every shadow, every gray thought, every dark deed, every lie, every vanished hope, every lost chance, and every dimmed soul.
Andrew could feel a terrible, crushing, rushing sensation on all sides of him, as if he was being sucked further in. Heat and ice flooded in around him so intense that he could hardly think. It felt as if it was melting away everything except the light that he held inside himself, burning away all that was nonessential. The heart was hungry for more, and Andrew seemed the perfect candidate. It sucked him towards it, like a shark with its mouth open wide. Andrew let the current take him towards it, his soul, his sword, his mind unified in the purpose he had been commissioned to fulfill.
Just inches before he reached his goal, he felt something within the sword, falter, and give way. It was as if a great surge of fear had cut through of the ranks of hope’s army, like black veins of infection, consuming the light, and weakening the strength of the sword.
In an instant he felt himself being pulled back out of the blackness and out into the open, black air.
“No!” The being screamed, ripping Andrew from his chest in a flurry of inky, black mist, blotched with red. “You will die, just as all who bear hope within their hearts soon will!”
Andrew fell at the foot of The Fallen, sword still clutched in hand, hope still glinting off his skin.
The Fallen rose above him, growing taller, and wider, and larger with each breath he took in. “You will watch as I snuff out the light you have ignited, one by one. He let out a great surge of shadows and darkness through his nostrils, then pointed to the flickering army battling below them. In an instant, it seemed as if a thousand flickering lights, were snuffed out.
The Fallen howled, and roared, grasping Freddie, and Ivory in his clutches. “Just watch! Watch as I consume your companions.”
“I will not let you!” Andrew cried, slamming the sword against The Fallen, fracturing shadows, and light in one tremulous blow.
The Fallen reeled back, dropping Freddie and Ivory at Andrew’s feet. Andrew
stood protectively in front of his friends, holding his sword aloft as The Fallen, hammered him with a discharge of darkness. “If you will not be made to bend!” The Fallen’s all-encompassing voice coursed in around him, “then I will break you to pieces!”
The Fallen coiled every shadow within his grasp into a powerful lash, barbed with fractured bits of ice, heat, shadow and light, Andrew stood strong, shielding his friends with sword as The Fallen twisted the lash back, then brought it down upon them with such force, and pressure that Andrew thought the world had split in two.
SWISH, THWACK!
Andrew’s ears throbbed from the sound as shattered pieces of light and shadow coursed around him. For a moment he was blinded, he could not tell where The Fallen was. He thought he could see Talic’s outline through the darkness, howling and screaming, as shadows tormented him.
SWISH, THWACK!
The air was knocked from Andrew’s lungs. He gasped, struggling to hold the sword as The Fallen came at him, again and again.
SWISH, THWACK!
As the battle waged below him, and hope faltered under the onslaught of darkness, Andrew began to feel the strength within the sword begin to wane. Andrew struggled to stand, struggled to shield his friends as The Fallen beat down on him with his merciless whip, gathering more length, and strength to him as darkness and shadow, laced themselves to his whip’s long lashes.
SWISH, THWACK! SWISH, THWACK! SWISH, THWACK! CRACK!
Andrew knees gave out and he fell back, breathless. He was covered in ice and sweat. The sword hummed, and vibrated from the blast, like a crystal wineglass, ready to burst and fracture under pressure. Andrew’s hand shook, and trembled with the sword. Hope was beginning to wane, and the sword was beginning to crack. The darkness that was beginning to subdue the armies below him, was slowly taking the strength he needed to crack the darkness. Suddenly the protective beam of light emanating from the sword cracked and gave way under the intense pressure, exploding in a momentous flare of light, sending sputtering tails of fractured light, shooting into the dark atmosphere like falling stars.
