Angel of Darkness (DARKNESS #1)

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Helencia Castle, Lysithea
Three Days Later
Unnamed

Bright. Stung. The Child flinched as light penetrated the cool silent darkness that surrounded him. He turned away from the light, curling back into the darkness. Warm and soft... he was. Death... comfortable?

The Child thought about his life. The warmth and comfort he found in the shadows wrapped around him like a blanket, protecting him. It was different from the dank darkness of the cellar. In fact, it was different than any gloom the child had been forcibly trapped in—notably this time, he wasn't trapped. There were no rats biting him, nor cold that shook every inch of his body. The boy had always been afraid of the dark, but there was nothing to be afraid of here. The darkness almost seemed like a friend.

Suddenly, another beam of light shot onto the child's face. White brightness flooded his vision. And his thoughts were slowly fading away into a terrifying nothingness. Was this death? Was this life? Coherent thoughts dulled into the white glare.

Abruptly, a spot of darkness clouded the blinding light. A dark blur stood in front of him. The child blinked. Once. Twice. A hand was stretched towards him. He couldn't make out any features, only a shadowed figure.

He started at the hand. It didn't move, but remained the only thing in his line of sight other than white blurriness. The hand was still, figures reaching towards him, not twitching or insistent in any way. Just waiting. Waiting for him to make the decision. The child paused and tried to think.

He could stay here. In the warm brightness, free of pain, and let his mind melt into his surrounding warm numbness. Or... he could follow this figure. Follow the dark being forward to a place he knew nothing about, and was totally unprepared for.

The child stared at the hand, and uncertainty placed his palm in the larger one. Warm fingers curled around his small hand, and ever so gently pulled him to standing. He hadn't even realized he was sitting.

The shadowed figure's touch was soft and light, but something felt so very familiar... It was as if he knew the shadowed being well. But the child knew he died alone, alone except for the wealthy older man that died alongside him. Was it his ghost?

The figure began to walk forward, and the child stumbled. He couldn't see. The hand holding his squeezed warmly, and his other hand braced himself on their shadowed arm. Despite holding the dark being, the boy couldn't make out any more than its silhouette.

Was the figure related to the older man who died aside him? Was it his ghost? The child's mind wondered and wandered as he walked side by side, elbow to elbow with the larger dark being, to places he didn't know.

And then he awoke. Here. In this room...

His heavy lids slowly opened. But the dark being, the shadowed figure was gone. And instead of darkness, there was light. Not like the all encompassing white light from before that consumed his very being, but rather a light that burned his eyes.

No. Why light? Why no dark? The child mused, his vision blurring. He yearned for that shadowed figure to come back. Suddenly, everything came into focus. The child found himself staring at... the sky?

No. Different. The boy concluded. Sky not like forest. Light... blue... shiny. The child reached a hand up and rubbed his eyes, sitting up a bit. In room... shiny, fancy. Here go die? The child ran his fingers over the length of his arm, which was covered with an elaborately trimmed soft white cotton nightgown. Fabric. Soft. Not hurt.

Looking around, the Child stared back down at his hands. He traced the familiar scars that cut across his palms. He slowly moved each of his limbs. No pain? light???