by Eric Angers
Vastian’s eyes widened surprised in his sudden understanding of a thing he thought he knew. “You mean, the leader of the Dead Men, the Mantle Bearer, literally bears the Shadow?”
“Yes, your Dead Men have carried the responsibility of carrying the Shadow for generations. Yours was a society created for such a purpose. To be our ward. If you accept, you will gain great power.”
“To use as you direct me?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“To do with as you will.”
“And if I decide to take over the world?”
“You will not. It is incompatible with our nature.”
“So what is compatible?”
“Balance. In total darkness there is no shadow, as it is in total light. We are the balance.”
“So you’re not evil and you’re not good, but something in between.”
“Too much thought will cloud the truth, Vastian Klensbane.”
“I don’t understand why you need a host at all.”
“Now you begin to touch on the proper questions. Our power is for use in the Reckoning. Our Ward will be instrumental in the battles to come. Dark powers are stirring.”
“So the Reckoning comes soon?” Vastian asked.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But our power must be in the world if it does. You must protect us, and you must wield us. That is what we ask.”
Vastian paused for a long moment, suspended in darkness. No. Not darkness: Shadow. As he stared he could now see through the blackness to faint twinkling lights in the distance. This was not a responsibility he wanted but it was not one he wished in the hands of any other as well. “I’ll do it.”
