Excerpt: Shadow

Year 125
It all started the day before.
The letter arrived. It was a warning. It was delivered to the King of Lourdes. A young maidservant had found it slipped under the door, inside an envelope with no return address. It was delivered to him during breakfast; he wasn't very hungry after he finished reading it.
Dear Your Highness – the title was written as an untidy scribble. It was clearly an insult;

Time is running out. You know of what is happening to your neighbors. You know of the impending doom that awaits you. I am offering you a few more weeks of survival.
I know of the party you are planning tomorrow. It is really quite selfish for you, even for me. You're gathering people from all over the world to their doom. Cancel the party. Show your generosity and send them home to safety. It won't guarantee you much survival, but you'll die forgiven.
If you don't cancel it, you will receive an unwelcome visitor tomorrow night. Don't say I didn't warn you. You knew I was coming. If you do not pay attention to me, it isn't my fault that you will die early with all your visitors.

It was not signed.
That letter was unheeded. The King folded it up and placed it among the trash to be thrown that night into the lake. Nobody had ever made a bigger mistake.
He found himself wishing he hadn't done that, throughout the rest of the day.
The preparations for the ball were completed early that morning. The enormous ballroom was properly shiny and beautiful for the impending event. Then visitors began to arrive. With every newcomer that came along, he was reminded more and more of the letter he had tossed. He wondered if he should have taken that warning seriously. He found himself realizing that, for all he knew, it had been a serious warning. What a fool he was.
That day passed by way too quickly. He dreaded the evening, when the ball would officially begin.
At around seven at night, everything was at its calmest, save for the King. Only he knew of the letter. He had told nobody; not his daughter Christina or his son Garrett. They should probably know, but they didn't. They should probably know that he had been an idiot and put their lives on the line. And the lives of their friends, and everyone that they had invited to celebrate Christina's birthday...
Tears streamed down his face as he realized that he had ruined everything. But it would have been ruined anyway. Even if he had given her a beautiful eighteenth birthday... she would have died within the week anyway...
His gaze dropped to the cup of cider on the table. No longer thirsty, he pushed it away, and waited for whatever might happen. His heart was pounding in his chest and he felt somewhat dizzy.
Slowly, he looked up at the crowd below him and searched for Christina and Garrett. They were there. They were safe and unsuspecting. They didn't know what was about to happen. They didn't know what he was about to put them through.
The next few hours were somewhat slow. He began to make the mistake of getting his hopes up. Garrett came to sit beside him after a while. He tried, for the first fifteen minutes, to begin lighthearted conversation. The King ignored him, so he gave up and then fell silent. The King was too disturbed to feel guilty.
His hopes were in vain.
It seemed a century had passed before his nightmare finally came reality, and the event he had prompted took place.
Halfway through the night, people began to make exclamations that the sky outside was turning dark... unnaturally dark.
~
“It's like a thick, black cloud!”
It was this sentence that caused Garrett to look up from the table he had been staring at absentmindedly. A thick black cloud. That was not good.
He scrambled off of his chair and out onto the dance floor, looking up at one of the windows on the ceiling of the ballroom to see what they were talking about. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark sky enough to see what they were referring to.
It was true. A thick, dark cloud, pure black, was speeding towards them. He could see it approaching them, visibly gliding.
Oh, no. He had heard of this black cloud. It was what had caused most of the deep south to disappear. It was... destruction. It was death.
He ran through the enormous ballroom door and stared out at the forest ahead of him, where he could see it better. Yes. This was it. He could see it destroying trees in its path.
“It's here!” he yelled, whirling around and darting back inside. “The cloud! It's here! We have to flee!”
People began to exclaim – but they were cries of confusion and uncertainty, rather than fear, which was what he thought would be more proper. Everybody was about to die.
He turned to look at his sister. She knew what he was talking about. He saw horror in Christina's eyes.
“It's here,” he whispered shakily, more to himself than to anybody else.
Turning slowly, he saw his father arise from his chair. He appeared shaky. From this distance Garrett couldn't see well, but he saw... guilt in his father's eyes.
“What has he done?” he asked himself in a breath.
He turned to Christina. She seemed to be asking herself the same thing. She turned away from her friends and strode across the room to stand beside him. There was terror in her eyes.
“Is it?” she whispered. “Garrett... is it...?” He saw a few tears stream down her face.
Fighting back tears himself, he nodded slowly. “Yes, Christina. It's the darkness. It finally reached us.”
She shut her eyes tightly and turned away. Misery bubbled up inside him that she should die on her eighteenth birthday. It wasn't fair.
“I'm sorry,” he said quietly, aware that his voice broke so that it probably didn't work much at all.
And then everything turned black. People screamed. Glasses broke. He felt the ground shake beneath them.
It's over.
But then... then light appeared. It was a strange light. He could not pinpoint where it came from. It was just... there. Everywhere. But it had no visible source. He took a step back, startled.
It didn't light enough of the room to reassure them of anything. It was just enough to see couples huddled together, others hiding behind tables or against the walls. He saw disaster. A few of the windows above had broken and crashed to the ground. He could see the Darkness pouring in through them, a sort of smoke that he could see but not smell. He could feel it though. It felt like... misery.
“You didn't listen to me.”
He didn't recognize the voice. He knew it was not good, though. Slowly, he turned to the two grand double-doors leading into the ballroom... the place from which the voice came.
There stood a woman. She was tall and... ominous. Long black hair spilled down her shoulders. The glow seemed to be strongest around her. She stood there... just stood there. Motionlessly watching as everybody in the ballroom cowered away from her. Garrett automatically knew that she was the reason so many people had died... and they had probably died at her feet. He would not die at her feet.
“Your Highness, you made a very unwise decision,” continued the woman as she took a few steps inside. People backed away from her – if they could; those huddled against the wall could go no farther. “You didn't pay attention to me. You didn't cancel the party. It shows how heartless you are, My Lord.”
Garrett felt anger at the sarcasm and disrespect with which she spoke to his father, but then realized that his father must have done something... something to bring her here. Slowly, he turned to look at him. His father had not moved from that position, standing there with sad eyes staring at the woman who was speaking to him.
“Of course, I'm not saying I would have spared you much longer. But you would have had... say... two spare days to write a will.” She sighed in mock disappointment. “I guess that would have been pointless anyway. Your family will die, as well.”
Why, thought Garrett, is she so sure of herself?
He knew he was thinking in vain though. She would kill him. He would die, like the millions of others who had died. But he would die fighting.
“Why so quiet?” she inquired mockingly. “Ashamed? So am I. I thought you were wiser, My Lord. Isn't that why you're King? To make wise decisions?”
Watch your mouth, Garrett wanted to say. But like everyone else in the room, he was rooted to the spot. He couldn't find his voice. He wasn't scared, but something kept him silent.
“Well,” continued the witch, “it's too late now. You messed up. Do you have any idea how many people will die now because of you?”
Now he was filled with fury. Nobody deserved to be spoken to like that. Especially not his father...
He turned to Christina. She was staring at the witch, but the glow was too dim for him to see the expression on her face. A few tears streamed down his face. Christina did not deserve to die. It was her birthday...
The giant doors began to close. The creak of the door hinges was spine-chilling, even though he knew that they wouldn't be locked... there was no need to lock it. Even if someone managed to escape the ballroom, they would die anyway.
They slammed closed with a thundering crash.
“Now,” she continued, “let's get on with it. Before I continue... allow me to introduce myself.” She smiled maliciously. “Maeve.”
Maeve. That was the name of the witch. Garrett narrowed his eyes. Maeve wouldn't kill him as easily as she'd like to... he would not bow to her feet... he would not give up. And if anybody here had the least bit of pride in their hearts, they would not succumb to her wrath either.
But as he looked around at everybody else, he did not see the same attitude in their eyes. They were trembling. Though he could not see their eyes because it was too dark, he knew that they were terrorized. They would give in.
He turned to his father. He had finally moved; he had taken a few steps back. He was staring at the witch, obviously, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Was he scared? Sad? Guilty? The last time Garrett had seen him well, he had been guilty. What had he done?
He turned to the witch once more. Maeve was scanning the faces of everybody in the room. He didn't know if she could see their thoughts through the darkness. It didn't matter. Not anymore.
“Any last words?” she asked softly. He could see that she was cold hearted, evil. Nothing about her gave off that she had any good feelings inside of her. He didn't know who she was, but he knew that – whatever she was up to – she was up to no good.
Of course she wasn't. She was destroying the world. She was killing innocent people.
“Well, then,” Maeve continued when there was no response. “I guess this is it.”
Silence followed as the people – everyone but Garrett – trembled before her. Even Christina was trembling. He reached out and touched her shoulder reassuringly, but it didn't work. She didn't seem to notice.
“Now,” she continued, taking a few more steps forward, “bow.”
This is it, he thought. I knew it. I knew that this was what she wanted. No. I will not.
Complete silence followed for several seconds. Then, to his utter disappointment, people began to sink to their knees, one by one.
“No,” he whispered to Christina, holding her tight. “Don't do it. You bow to nobody.”
Maeve heard. Slowly, she turned to him. “Oh? Is that so?”
Garrett winced despite himself. Slowly, he looked up to meet her gaze. It was piercing. It was evil. It seemed to kill you, look into your very soul and replace hope with terror. But it didn't work with him. He may be only sixteen, but he would not bow to her.
“It is so,” he replied quietly, though his voice did tremble a little.
Maeve narrowed her eyes at him for a very long time, then laughed. It was a sharp, evil sound, one that he did not want to here.
“Bold boy! What's your name?”
He remained silent. He would not introduce himself.
“Well, you stand out particularly well in this crowd of cowards. You are not your father's son.”
Garrett continued to glare hatred at her.
“Well, since you're so special, I have a very special fate planned out for you.”
And, for the first time, he felt fear. He resisted taking a step back, he didn't let himself run away. He would not leave his sister.
“How would you like to live?” she continued as she took a few steps toward him – his grip on Christina tightened. “How would you like to stay alive forever?”
He didn't respond. He was beginning to tremble. He hoped it didn't show.
“It would come with a downside, though,” she continued, drawing closer and closer to him. “You'll only be visible once a month.” She looked up at the window above. “Oh... lucky. It's a full moon.” Thinking hard, she finished, “You'll only be visible once a month, during the full moon.”
“No,” Christina whispered hoarsely.
Garrett didn't speak, even though he was the one of whom she was deciding the fate. He remained silent, tried to stand straight, tried not to run away...
“See if you can figure out how to undo the curse,” she continued quietly. “Otherwise you'll be living for a long time... a long time.” She smiled wryly and added, “But I'm not stupid. I won't let that happen... no.”
And her smile grew. As it grew, he felt chills go down his spine... unnaturally strong chills. Soon it became like he was standing in frigid air. All this time he kept his eyes locked on hers, not allowing himself to appear any weaker. But he was losing his courage quickly.
“Now,” Maeve continued, turning to everybody else, “have a happy afterlife.”
The light faded away. Now he found himself horrified. His grip on his sister tightened; he was the younger brother again, once more looking for an answer in Christina, the one person he looked up to most in the world. But she was weaker than he was himself. She was sobbing now. He would not find comfort in her.
And the roof fell. The last thing he heard before everything went black was the screams of everybody around him, as they met their ends.