The Empire of Night and Nightmares

I

Te fear of the dark has never been about the dark itself, but rather what may reside in the darkness with you.

It's the creaking of the floorboards and the rustle of leaves in the bushes below the window. It's the moving shadow that disappears and reappears as the breath on the back of your neck which has the hairs on your arms at attention.

To every inhabitant of the Aithálian Empire, this feeling has become an enemy they always keep an eye out for. Unlike the rest of the world, they live in the dark and pray for the day light will dance against their skin again.

Aitháli had been shrouded in darkness for many years now. Not a single ray of sunshine or moonlight graced the sky. The comforting glimmer of stars was non-existent. Just pure darkness. The townsfolk did attempt to leave, but that was when they discovered they weren't alone.

Tall, dark creatures with leathery skin and wings, paired with dark eyes roamed the land at night. Those demonic beings had been waiting for their prey to fall for their trap. No man made weapon could stop them. They were clever creatures. Outsmarting them was near impossible, which meant one thing. There was no way out.

After their discovery, there was a main rule; no lights after dark. This meant candles, oil lamps, the glow of burning coal after heating up a meal, any other source of light. This alerted them. It gave away someone's location, allowing these creatures to hunt for their next prey.

They would keep their distance, but once the crows fell silent in the trees, signalling a new night, they would creep into the villages and stalk the land, hoping to satiate their hunger for fear and death.

Soon enough, villagers started to hear voices in their heads, luring them to fall asleep. Once they had fallen, there was no way to wake them up. There was no cure for it. No one to shake you awake once you were under the spell. If you made the mistake, and let yourself be beguiled into sleep, your only hope was to survive.

That's how they were forced to live for twenty-two years.

They lost their rulers, and the villages were left to fend for themselves. Food became scarce. Crops grew slower, and hunting was risky, but it was the only way to remain alive in those conditions.

The villagers wished things would go back to normal. They had no choice but to live this way, but they still clung to the memory of what life had been like before.

All except one.

Born into the darkness, Mireya did not know what it was like all those years ago. She hadn't had the pleasure of feeling the supposed warmth of the sun, or its rays that could damage the eyes if one were to stare at it for too long.

The only light that damaged her eyes was candlelight.

Mireya grew up this way. She had quickly grown accustomed to what others were still struggling with, and some envied her for it. She refused to let herself live in fear.