Save the Dark from the Light
When I was lost and broken, you were there Fighting the rot and blight of monsters that hunted the night. You never wavered, even as the rot came for you— A blight I tried to fight, only for us both to be shattered by the light.
You grew once more as I found hope within you, Yet even now the light wishes to destroy you anew.
So now I will fight the light as a blight To save you, for all you have been through.
—Night Goddess, defending Abaddon
The laughter from the goddess made him unsure, but he supposed it was much to handle and she was adapting to his words. It was only when she ceased her laughter and extended her hand that he learned his folly.
It was not mercy and equality that met him, but light's purity and fury. Her hand turned to a flare and struck him—his outstretched hand ashed and gone, pain flaring in his mind, lost to the burning radiance.
He lashed out more on instinct than any true desire to harm her, but the shadows faded before they could touch her. A protective glow flared around her form, turning his darkness to nothing.
He reformed his arm and focused the shadows once more at her. She gracefully danced past the beam as if it were nothing more than something to annoy her.
Gone were the tears, the laughter, the pleading nature. Now all he saw from her was a coldness he had never known. All his memories spoke of mercy and love—she may have scoffed at his desires, but burn him? Deny his ability to choose? This was foreign and unlike her...
Yet it was her. Even as she shot another beam he could not dodge, carving another piece of darkness from him—a careful slice versus a blast of cruelty, as if she were carving pieces of him away.
"Worry not, my love. The pain will be fleeting, as fleeting as the pain in my heart. I will save you—you will see."
He was trapped and conflicted about what to do. He had power—he could feel it flowing within himself and the city—but when he tried to return a blast similar to her beam, it was easily avoided as if it were molasses and he was too slow.
Desperate for something to strike her and undermine her focus, he formed a sea of rats similar to what he remembered from the Rat Lord—consuming the light before when it barred his people's path. It had cost the Rat Lord his life, a regret he still held, but now it could be hope. Not only to remember his legacy, but to defeat the light once more.
She didn't even blink, much less look at the wave of death behind her. He wasn't sure if she was that focused on him or so sure he could not harm her that she didn't think any strike could come from behind.
He smiled through the pain, his victory assured. He could make sense of this madness after he subdued her and had time to think.
Yet as the wave seemed to crash down upon her, before it could even touch her flesh, it turned to ash. He had expected it to some degree—the same had happened before when trying to oppose the light—yet they had never gotten this close. No, she repelled them more easily as she grew brighter.
Her hand raised and she carved upon him once more. A layer of himself seemed to break away, his mind feeling as if it would shatter. The fragmented memories became clearer.
I was her champion. Her light. I was loyal, and when I was tainted by unknown rot... she... killed... me...
He flared the darkness, trying to defy the light—a flame of darkness and pure malice lashing out, a sea of teeth trying to strike at her. It dimmed her light and made her frown, but little more as she spoke to his frenzied state.
"Do not resist, my love. I take only what is needed to free you from her touch. You will return whole and pure. The pain persists from resistance, not my desire to hurt you."
Yet her words were lies. He felt pieces of himself fade even as his mind stayed clear, the burning of his shadow flesh growing and digging deeper into his soul, searching for ways to rip him from himself.
"WHY?" his voice roared, demanding to know why his offer of equality and peace was met with scorn and defeat.
Laughter rang back at his voice. "My love, you're just too blind to see how far you've fallen. This is to release you—don't you see?"
Yet he felt his people sense the madness and try to assist him. The King and Tom didn't get far, and others—thanks to Luma's screaming along with the shadow children in fear at the madness—begged anyone to save their father. She was killing him.
Yet he refused to let them be involved. Layers and layers of shadow barred the way to the kingdom and the room itself. It was maddening, trying to split his mind between the light that seared him and keeping a presence to deny others entry.
He saw the confusion beyond, from Tom near the door now barring his way. Tom clawed at the shadows, wondering why he could not stay. With great effort, he spoke through those shadows, desperate to keep them away from here.
"Stay... away... from... here... go... now."
The light sliced once more and things shifted. "There, my love. I found you. Now let me free you from this..."
The world spun and changed anew. He was on a battlefield, monsters all around. Pain was all he knew, and the light burned away all the beasts, yet the pain in his flesh never lessened. He needed help, salvation, and she slowly floated down to him, arms spread—a light to set him free from all the pain, all that was wrong.
He did not know how he got here. He just knew it all hurt.
"Be at ease, my love. Embrace me and I will take you to the light and set you free. You are my champion."
"Yes, I was? No... I am your champion." He wanted to go home, be free from all this pain, the madness that he had seen.
He dropped his sword. He cared not for the battlefield that led him here, the people he once wanted to save, the... kingdom he wanted to rule?
That made no sense. He was no king. Yet the pain grew, and with it lessened his control to think. He needed her touch to end this uncertainty and walked—then fell, crawling to her to set him free.
"Abaddon... please."
A voice, sad, hurt, alone. Needing him? Wanting to help him? Those feelings made no sense.
"Abaddon, trust me."
Trust the unknown? He felt it was the darkness. It had once saved him?
It wanted to save him now? Was it true? Could he trust the unknown versus the light that loved him?
The burning never stopped. The pain grew, but so did the sadness of the voice that could not reach him, that did not force him, that wanted... to help him?
He turned from the light even as the light grew and all he could see was its blaze. The battle no longer existed—all that was left was the light and a small puddle of darkness near his prone form. A small shadow of her that existed, trying to reach him—a fragment of someone he did not know.
But they knew him. They tried to save him. Crawling forward as best he could—the only defiance he could muster against the pain that held him—he lowered his head and drank upon the shadow that offered itself to him.
She had won. Not that there was ever a doubt—she had finally carved the rot from his flesh. All that remained was his essence, and that she knew was safe, though fragile. He was divinity—you could break and reshape it, but it could not be killed. It was why she dealt with the monster god as an annoyance versus something she could end.
She reached into the air, pulling at the essence, willing it to her to be reborn as her champion as he was before. He would reform—fragile but anew and pure light—something she could embrace with pride versus the shame she had known.
Yet the shadows on the walls did not lessen, and the wisps did not regrow into what was supposed to be the end of one and the start of the new.
She felt a shift—a presence that was old, much like her, forgotten to all but her and long thought dead since she had remained gone to all. She had never believed the Dark Goddess was truly dead, unlike her sister the Nature Goddess, but the eons of absence had given her pause in her belief... until she found her taint upon her champion.
But she had never appeared until... now?
It was an odd sight, seeing the darkness reform and pool when it should not be. I carved it all away... Yet it turned into a shape like an egg and melted into a new form. It spread wings of shadow as her smooth form of darkness stood defiant before her. She wasn't sure what illusion this was—where was her champion? This was the Dark Goddess? Her skin shone pale like the moon, but she wore the darkness like a dress, and her hair flowed with it like dark clouds flowing with the moon.
She extended her hand in greeting, much like her champion had. Confusion filled her—why would she offer peace—until a blast came forth, smashing her in the face and back into the wall, shattering stone as she started to fall before she found her grace and took flight.
The shock was greater than the pain, but her cheek still bled from the strike and the smashing wall of darkness. The absurdity that she could be touched, be challenged, was still new to her. She remembered the Dark Goddess as passive, meek—she had begged for her help facing the Rot God that once hunted her and her sister. Why was she striking now? Where did she get the power to do so?
Another blast followed from the hole, and even in her disgust, it nearly struck her as she dodged and flowed around the blast that became a beam that followed her. She returned her own beam to show she was not meek and could fight back, not knowing what led to this.
The blast slammed inside the room and an explosion followed, but from within the chaos, the Dark Goddess flew upward. The castle itself—once a scene of ruin—transformed. The very stones of his citadel groaned to life, forming a colossal, lumbering giant of rock and shadow that reached for her. Its slow, lumbering form was no threat, but the control and power still unnerved her. A sea of bats flew and scattered about her, scratching at her form. Even as she flared her light, they resisted and still tried to tear at her as another moonbeam slammed her downward before she was able to deflect the blast. Now furious at being challenged.
She turned her form close to light speed, increasing each second that passed. Less than three seconds was all it took to close the distance as her fist slammed into the newly formed Dark Goddess and knocked her back. She wished to relish the victory, but the accursed mammoth form of the castle finally was able to grab her, trying to crush her before she flared her light once more, dissolving its grip. A beam to its head shattered its form—a crumbled, fractured castle once more.
A fist slammed into her. It seemed the Dark Goddess was not idle as she recovered, and an exchange of blows followed as she struck back.
Such intensity—had she always been here? Did she control her champion? How was this happening to her? This wasn't the fight she came for. She wanted her love—did he reject her? Was this what he wanted?
Even as the Dark Goddess's fist met her face and hers returned the favor, the only pain she felt was the uncertainty. Where was her champion?
Yet in a moment of clarity amidst the chaos, she felt it—a terrifying symbiosis. He was here, within her. He was her and she was him.
It wasn't that she had saved him from her folly of killing him with her light, no...
It was far worse. She had become one with him.
She could not think long as the blows came hard, and she was forced to the ground and slammed down. She needed time to think—this was too much. She flared her light to gain distance, for the Dark Goddess was too close, her equal. She feared that even if she could win, what would remain of her champion? She had weakened him too much, allowed this thing to take hold. She was controlling him, that much was clear, bending him to her will and forcing him to stay here.
She needed time to find a way to free him, to end this farce. But she also needed to recover—too much had happened this day for her to think clearly. She needed... her champion. But he needed her more, and in order to be there for him, she had to concede.
She flew away, tears streaking her face—not in defeat, oh no, far from that—but with purpose. To save her love from here, she just needed time to figure out how to do that with the Dark Goddess present. A stray bolt followed her into the distance—a final mocking shot to claim victory.
But know this is a hollow victory. You have not won. The game will be played, but not as you think. A victory? I know for a fact the Rot God killed you once—I will find out if it can be done again, and my champion spared. If not, I will have other means. This is far from over, Dark Goddess. You want to war with a goddess? I will give you a war.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdIzClbTL8Q
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