Legends say that a rising sun is the symbol of something new. It breaks over the horizon and erases the darkness of whatever it graces with its golden hue. This, however, could also be said about the pending night.
The sun is not always the sole indicator of a new beginning. Similarly to how the morning illuminates the world, the indigo of night creeps over the sky and blankets the world in a thick darkness, its ambience cold, scary, and unpredictable.
It was a warm spring afternoon in the country of Aginem. The year was 2005.
The smell of wet vegetation hung in the air as the final drops of rain fell from the vivid greens of trees and bushes to the plains of grass below. The sun began its descent over the blurry tips of mountains in the west. Rich hues of orange, red, and yellow stretched far across the sky, making the skinny clouds look like fluttering ribbons of fire.
Five-year-old Riarshi sat crossed-legged on his family room floor, laughing cheerfully while playing with his newest set of toys. Light escaped through the window's blinds in the form of slanted rays, gracing his spiky chestnut hair and glimmering hazel eyes.
His father, Rollan, sat in the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room, propelling himself with the ball of his foot while sipping on an after-dinner coffee. He watched his son with soft, adoring eyes.
Riarshi was his splitting image. Their eyes and hair were exactly alike, though father and son shared their differences. Rollan's hair loosely fell to his shoulders, while his eyes were rather thin, pointed like a sharp blade.
Rollan glanced over to his wife, Lorita, with the same warmth in his gaze as he shared with his son. She sat stiffly on the sofa. Her long, crimson hair cascaded down her back like a red waterfall, stopping just above her tiny waist. She clicked away on her phone, brow wrinkling with evident confusion. Despite all the lessons and classes, Lorita still had a hard time handling any type of technology.
A slight chuckle escaped Rollan's lips, earning a piercing glare from his lovely wife. "Don't you look at me like that," he grinned.
She couldn't hide her small smile. "I will look at you however I like, my love."
Without hesitation, he gazed into her beautiful eyes for the thousandth - no - millionth time. Riarshi had her round eyes, pointed chin, and the same angry forehead wrinkle when they were annoyed.
But mother and son shared yet another, more infernal bond - one that grasped itself before birth. They both possessed the same damned curse.
Rollan sighed and took a sip of coffee. "I'm glad this war will finally be over. Seven years is too long for anyone, demon or human."
Lorita lowered her phone and looked up at the horizon through the window. "I agree, my love. We've been though enough for many lifetimes. It is time for rest and peace. Just pray to the Divines that your fellow Heroes can finish this quickly."
"Our fellow Heroes," Rollan corrected.
Lorita shook her head and returned to her phone. Again, she found it impossible to hide her smile. Her husband always brought out this side of her.
Today didn't differ from any other. Many would've call it normal. Some would've said ordinary. But neither of these could've been farther from the truth.
Taking a long sip from his mug, Rollan peered out the window to the misty haze of mountains in the distance. He saw tree tops swaying in the wind, and the swirling of clouds in the growing night sky.
Wait, night time already? thought Rollan, placing his mug down on the table. He leaned in to get a better view of the window. His heart began to pound. In the distance, the indigo of night had already begun its creep over the vast landscape before him.
It rose in the west and stretched out toward the east, so this was no ordinary darkness. The light shouldn't have died this early in the evening.
Ominous clouds of purple, obsidian, and smoke-gray blocked out the falling sun completely, casting everything in a shroud of darkness.
Then he saw them - thousands of blood-red eyes glowing in the dark, rhythmically bobbing closer like a marching army.
Instincts kicked in. He sprung from the rocking chair, banging its back into the wall. "Lorita, they're here." His voice held neither quivering fear nor stern courage. It was soft, resolute, and accepting.
Lorita dropped her phone to the floor and stood, too.
The moment they stared into each other's eyes, they knew what they had to do. Without a word they looked over to their son, who had stopped playing with his toys to watch his parents with wide, curious eyes.
Rollan and Lorita were Magic Heroes, protectors and soldiers of their country. But none of that mattered in this moment. They were Riarshi's parents. And most important of all, they were his heroes.
Suddenly, a purple beam of magic blasted through the side of the house, shooting splinters of wood, flaming bits of insulation, and fragments of glass all across the family room. The foundation shook violently, throwing Rollan and Lorita off their feet. The blast launched Riarshi along the floor, sliding and smacking into a wall. Dust and soot blackened the side of his face.
Lorita shot off the ground, only taking two frantic paces to guard Riarshi from falling debris with her own body. Shards of wood smacked into her back, ripping her shirt at the sleeve. A small trickle of blood dripped to the floor.
Another blast, this one orange in color, ripped through the sofa, sending puffs of flaming cotton into the air. It continued on its path and destroyed the marble countertops of the kitchen. Flames roared over the wide openings in the wall, polluting the house with a thick, putrid smoke.
"Call him, now!" Lorita shrieked at her husband, wrapping herself around her crying son.
"Already did. He said he'll be here as soon as he can," answered Rollan, tossing his phone to the side and picking himself from the floor. Blood ran down his left arm in rivers.
"Mama, Papa, what's happening?" Riarshi cried, sniffling. He attempted to wipe the soot from his widened eyes, but only smudged it more.
"Nothing, honey, don't worry. Mama and Papa will protect you. Don't worry," Lorita cooed, running her fingers through his dirtied chestnut hair. "Just promise me and your father something, Riarshi. No matter what, you will not leave this house until Uncle Zeke comes and grabs you. Okay?"
Riarshi sniffed. "Okay."
For a moment, Lorita refused to let go of her son's arms. She remained kneeling in front of him, shivering, staring into the same hazel eyes she fell in love with, the same eyes - she knew would become like hers one day.
Rollan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Instantly, her shivering stopped, and she stood straight, wiping her eye with the back of her hand. Sweat and soot smudged on her cheek.
Riarshi stumbled and hid under the staircase. With one last look at their son, Rollan and Lorita ran out of the burning hole in the wall, treading without caution through the scattered debris of their home.
Right now, they had to be Heroes once again. Not only for the country of Aginem, but for Riarshi too.
The army of red eyes closed in on the backyard. Limbs cloaked in black shadows broke through the fence with blasts of magic, shattering the posts like toothpicks. What looked like a black mist closely followed the army, chilling the air to near freezing, nipping at Rollan and Lorita's exposed skin. Goosebumps erected on their arms and a shiver shot down their spines.
Faces of stone were not enough to contain the despair ravaging through Rollan and Lorita's racing hearts. The demons charging their house feasted off their emotions; their sinister magic swelled to exponential heights.
***
Explosions rocked the inside of the house. Under the staircase, each wild vibration from the war outside caused small puffs of dust to sprinkle into Riarshi's hair.
The sharp, sporadic grunt or cry from his parents pierced his ears. He tried covering them with his tiny hands, but he still heard it all. He could sense they were losing, tiring, dying. A toxic sick churned in his stomach. He knew they were in pain.
Then, without thinking, he ran. He ran across the family room, hopping on each foot to avoid the shattered debris.
But he didn't run away.
No, he ran through the gaping, burning hole in the wall, and out into the yard, his short legs clumsily carrying him to his parents.
They were Heroes, protectors, and he had promised them he would become one too when he grew up. This was his chance. He had to save them, somehow. There had to be a way.
His cheeks ran with hot tears, feet squelching in the cold wet grass. He opened his eyes, and saw them, just barely, through the darkness. Blood soaked their clothes. His father's chest heaved with each breath. His mother's magic was gone, run out. They were both defenseless.
He had to get to them quicker. Sparks exploded around Riarshi's feet, prickling the ground with thin, blue ribbons. His legs churned faster, more powerful, lifting the grass beneath his feet.
He looked up. His parents, faces wrecked with horror, were screaming something at him he couldn't hear over his own sobs and gasps for air. His lungs stung with each frigid breath he took.
He had to save them.
Riarshi didn't see it. It was sudden, unexpected, and fast.
A purple orb of magic, with a diameter the size of a house, came barreling at him, ripping up the earth in its destructive path. Riarshi froze like a deer in headlights, unable to move, blink, or speak. His magic disappeared.
The purple light of the orb became a blinding white, engulfing the entirety of his vision. Its deafening roar stabbed Riarshi between the ears. Pain, then everything went silent.
Lorita had jumped in front of the orb, shielding Riarshi with her body. She took the full impact of the blast to her back.
Something warm splattered across Riarshi's face, metallic to his lips, and his mother launched across the yard, tumbling like a rag doll onto the stone patio.
Then, the coldest, most painful darkness flooded over Riarshi, coating him in a velvet black. The mist surrounded him, froze him, and suffocated him. There was only darkness, cold, more cold. Corpse-like hands, dripping with black ink, reached for him from the mist, grabbed him, and pulled, clawing at his skin. They dragged him in, gripped his limbs, and took him over.
Riarshi screamed, no... roared. The vibration of his surroundings rattled his bones.
The thousand red eyes stopped in place and observed.
Riarshi was almost there. He could feel his body freezing over, colder and colder, the ice travelling toward his chest.
At the moment the cold nicked the apex of his heart, a hand wrapped around Riarshi's face. It lifted him off his feet, and he suddenly yanked backward.
The hand still clasped securely around his mouth couldn't muffle the screams for his parents. It did, however, emit a flash of light that blinded Riarshi. A sudden warmth washed through his body, thawing the ice that was taking over, pillaging his innards.
He was tired. His vision returned, but disappeared at the same time. Everything became gradually dark, like staring down a narrowing tunnel.
Then darkness won, and he fell asleep.
There are places that even the brightest summer sun cannot reach. These places are cast in deep, cold shadows, day and night, no matter the season. Compared to the light, darkness is all-encompassing. It is always present - haunting, tormenting, and freezing.
And today, it was the darkness of night, rather than the light of morning, that created a new beginning.