Darkest Star, Brightest Shadow

There are some times in life where even the brightest of stars can become so dark and corrupt, that they are unstoppable. It is at this time of peril that a nobody, an insignificant little shadow, must step up to face the enemy. Umbra. Umbra must step up, and become the brightest of all shadows...


1. Deaths, Dreams, and Dread

Crimson blood fell to the floor, splattering the snowy white marble flooring with a stain that could never be washed away, never forgotten. The princess, her dress once white, now bloodstained, dropped to the floor, her body as limp as flimsy fabric. The ruthless warrior, clad in grey and blue, advanced down the room. His heavy boots tapped loudly on the floor, almost daring anybody to come and challenge him. Advancing to the cowardly king, who would rather his family die than his own life to be taken, staggered back, into the corner of the throne room. Desperate for life, now seeing how beautifully valuable each breath was. But it was too late for the appreciation of life. The warrior spared none. If he could take a life, he would take it. And he was going to take the king's. Advancing slowly, the warrior looked at the once proud royal, amused at his fear, amused at his childish sobs and whimpers. He had all the time in the world to take this man's life. Each step the warrior took was another sob the king wasted, when he could be looking, looking at his exquisite throne room, enjoying breathing. Finally, the warrior was looming above the king. A swift thrust of his sword, and the king was dead. The crown fell to the marble floor with a satisfying clash. The sobbing succumbed to the man's gasp of pain. It was over. Death had been inevitable.


Umbra woke with a startled gasp. His jet black hair falling across his eyes, hiding his fear, were glinting with anxiety. Just a dream. Just a dream. An impossibly realistic dream, yes, but just a dream. Nothing special. Umbra realised he was shaking, and tried to comfort himself. But how? How would a teenage boy comfort himself when he felt so much fear, from just a dream? It was only until he swung his bare feet from the bed that he realised he was trembling. Umbra got up on shaky legs, finding it almost impossible to stand. He looked around his room, almost expecting the warrior to jump out and attack him. Umbra desperately needed comfort. But from who? His parents, who always expected so much more from him? From his elder brother, who wanted onlytoknow him if only there was food involved? Umbra collapsed back onto his bed, deciding that nobody would want to hear. After all, he was a nobody. An insignificant boy among millions. He pulled the duvent over his body again, trying to hide behind it. Just a dream. Just a dream. But deep inside him, he knew that even he could not see blood that clearly in a dream. In a dream, he could never truly hear each antagonising footstep, like each was a countdown to his own death.

Umbra did not sleep again that night.


I fly faster than lightning, faster than the Northern winds, faster than death, but they are still chasing me. Always just a wingspan away from me, trying desperately to catch me though they know I need to be free. They need not capture me, surely! I cannot be confined! But I know what they wish to do with me, once I am theirs. I would sooner face death than serve their dark purpose. Fear ebbs away at me, swallowing all my sense like a hungry wolf. But no hungry wolf could consume my chasers. They are too powerful to consume. If the fear does not turn me insane, then exhaustion will. These chasers are right being me now. Less than a wingspan away. But I won't succumb to them. I won't! But what else is there to do? What they plan to use me for is terrifying. I can't stop flying. I have to loose them, somehow... But how?

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