Midnight Slayer
By Master Slayer / Midnight Slayer
A young elf boy grips the hand of a vampire girl as they quickly sneak through the streets of Thais at night. After an awful tragedy at the Open-Air Theater, the two are both terrified and fleeing for survival. A woman in a red dress was following them from the theater until she briefly lost sight of them. She continued searching until she found the boy in a pool of his own blood, alone, deceased outside of the north gates of Thais.
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Meanwhile, in a distant realm, a spiritual being floats down a hallway then passes through a door. The spirit travels through the room filled with bookcases and clocks with spinning dials then halts in front of a writer’s desk. The spirit, frustrated that the old elf won’t look up from his writing and notice her, whirls the books into the air from his table with a gust of wind and sends them flying across the room smashing into the bookcases.
She shouts at the old elf,
Unknown Spirit: He died! AGAIN!
Finally, he lifts his head and replies,
Master Slayer: I know, I felt it.
Unknown Spirit: Do you not understand that your actions have consequences?!
Inside of a private chamber deep, deep within the Dream Realm, Slayer’s home rests high above in rigid mountains. Slayer avoids the spirit, and walks through the wall beside his desk like a ghost. He stands outside of his home on a cliff with a dirt pathway leading to a temple. The spirit was already waiting for him on the other side and displeased with Slayer’s actions.
Unknown Spirit: Answer me!
Slayer walks through the spirit and travels the pathway slowly, using his large staff to aid him with each step, while overlooking a beautiful chaotic world he crafted from his mind across the cliff.
Master Slayer: Time will not wait for me.
Unknown Spirit: Time? Time here is irrelevant. You know this!
A giant moon covers most of the clear night sky. A dragon slowly falls to its death in the distance as if seconds were turned to days. Down below, shallow water covers most of the ground and giant trees walk the earth.
The spirit follows him down the pathway pleading with him.
Unknown Spirit: You mustn't continue this. What you are doing is dangerous.
Slayer approaches the entrance of the temple. The spirit attempts to stop him.
Unknown Spirit: The Gods have not abandoned you, Slayer.
Slayer stops, then looks from the cliff to a little island made from his memories isolated in the far corner of his private dream chamber.
Master Slayer: That is yet to be decided.
Unknown Spirit: And if the Gods reject the both of you?
Master Slayer: Then we will perish as one.
Unknown Spirit: The boy’s fate is not your decision.
Master Slayer: If it is fate, the decision has already been made.
Slayer enters the temple leaving the spirit behind.
He is a dreamwalker and has crafted a replica of the Rookgaard temple from his memories. It is here he practices dream shaping, spiritual meditation, and what some elves have interpreted as dark energy or black magic.
Sitting on the marble floor at the center of the temple, he meditates deeply, connecting with a young elf of another realm. Slayer can see Midnight’s memories. The boy was stabbed in the shoulder by Henricus, and the vampire girl was chased down into the woods by Red Legion guards. Slayer focuses his meditation then channels his soul to Midnight.
In the other Realm, the lady in the red dress dashes north through the fields outside of Ab’Dendriel with Midnight in her arms. He is suddenly awoken, his eyes ignite in flames, and the elf begins desperately gasping for air.
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In the night’s darkest hour, Dama Blackheart of the Red Rose requested one of the village’s clerics for a private discussion. The two stood in the Ab’Dendriel temple watching as the waves of the ocean crashed against the shoreline.
Dama Blackheart: Will you help us?
The wise cleric refrained from answering the question so soon.
Maealil: Tell me where you found him.
Dama Blackheart: Lifeless, outside of the north gates of Thais.
Maealil: You are certain he was deceased?
Dama Blackheart: Yes. His shoulder was heavily wounded and when I lifted his body, he had already passed.
Maealil: What transpired next?
Dama Blackheart: While I was running with him, he resurrected in my arms.
Maealil struggles to believe.
Maealil: Necromancy? This must be a child of darkness.
Dama Blackheart: I don’t believe this to be true.
Maealil: For what reason do you have doubts?
Dama Blackheart: When he came to life in my arms, I laid him down in the grass to try and clear my thoughts. I’ve never seen anything like this. Then, I spoke with him for a while. He thanked me for saving him. I wanted to know more about him. When I asked about his parents, he pointed to the stars.
Maealil: The stars?
Dama Blackheart: He said they watch over him at night from above.
Maealil: His age? How old do you believe him to be?
Dama Blackheart: Fourteen or fifteen years, maybe.
Maealil: I spoke with some of the guards moments ago. Some have seen this little elf in the village on occasion. One of the guards at the gate claimed when you brought him here, he spoke with two voices. Is this true?
Dama Blackheart: Yes, there is something unnatural occurring in him.
Maealil feels he finally has some understanding.
Maealil: It sounds as if the boy may be possessed. Do you believe this invasive spirit to be evil?
Dama Blackheart: I do not, but I am not certain. He is wounded and I want to help him.
They both take a long pause and listen to the sounds of the waves crashing ashore.
Maealil: He is an elf of the night, yes?
Dama Blackheart nods.
Maealil: Does he have a name?
Dama Blackheart: Midnight.
Maealil: I will call down Edala from the Suntower to perform a ceremonial blessing for Midnight. If the foreign soul that has interwoven himself with the boy carries darkness, both souls will perish during the blessing. Are you willing to offer his fate to the Gods?
Dama carefully contemplates her decision. She is unsure of what to believe. Could his resurrection be an act of divine intervention? Or did she rescue an elf of darkness? She comes to a conclusion and answers,
Dama Blackheart: Yes.
Maealil: I will gather the elves of the village. It will take place at the edge of the grove in the shallow waters of the sea.
Dama nods in respect to the elder elf then returns to Midnight.
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Dama Blackheart climbs the ladder to Akishiro's treetop home. He is a member of the Blackheart family and Dama has Midnight sheltered there safely while Akishiro is away. Midnight is sitting on the floor writing away in his scrapbook waiting for Dama to return. Midnight’s eyes have become more intense, and they partially illuminate the room where he is seated.
Dama enters the home, approaches Midnight, and sits next to him. She pauses for a brief moment.
Dama Blackheart: He is here… with you now… isn’t he?
Midnight waits a moment before answering.
Midnight Slayer: Yes.
Dama finds the two voices to be quite disturbing, yet interesting.
Dama Blackheart: May I see what you wrote?
Midnight carefully and cautiously hands Dama his scrapbook. The binding is worn, pages are missing, and the cover is smeared with blood.
Dama Blackheart: It may be time to replace this one, hmm?
Midnight Slayer: No, I like this one.
Dama turns the pages and finds Midnight’s bookmark.
Dama Blackheart: Shoot for the stars…
As Dama reads the small artistic piece by Midnight, she realizes the elf, so young, could not have written this alone. The one who possesses him could be the force behind the little one’s pen.
Dama Blackheart: Did you write this Midnight? Or did he speak the words to you?
Midnight Slayer: We wrote it together.
Dama delicately and respectfully returns the scrapbook to Midnight. As she gazes upon Midnight’s eyes, she is captivated by them. Beyond his youthful appearance, his chaotic eyes speak of a different tale spanning several centuries. Midnight flips the book open again and begins scribbling away.
Dama Blackheart: There will be a ceremony tonight.
Midnight turns his eyes away from his book and back to Dama.
Dama Blackheart: For you, Midnight.
His eyes shift to calm golden flames.
Midnight Slayer: Am I to be blessed?
Dama answers while masking her worrisome thoughts.
Dama Blackheart: Yes.
Midnight remains silent for a moment.
Midnight Slayer: Then into the light, I shall go.
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In the sacred grove, many elves of Ab’Dendriel have gathered an hour before the morning light’s touch. Whispers float among the crowd as they wait to witness a night elf receive his blessing. As Midnight approaches the crowd, Dama Blackheart walks with him closely behind. Her friend, and fellow Red Rose member, Faeryndil slips into the crowd to catch a glimpse of Midnight’s entrance. Some of the elves gasp at the sight of Midnight’s appearance. A few of them are frightened to see the boy with fire in his eyes, barefooted, his shirt torn from the collar, and the bloody wound of his shoulder that led to his previous demise.
Edala, healer and blesser, stands in the shallow water stringing the chords of her lyre awaiting Midnight.
Edala: Ashari, young Midnight. Come forth, my child. Allow me to heal your wound.
Edala lays her lyre down on the waves to let it float beside her.
Midnight removes his shirt, slowly and painfully, revealing a birthmark that covers his entire back depicting the Treefather with a star filled sky above. Midnight, with small steps, walks into the shallow chilling waters.
Edala places her hand to Midnight’s shoulder and her healing touch cleanses the wound, replenishing the little elf’s vitality significantly.
Edala: You see how my lyre floats on the water? Please, lay back and do the same for me.
Midnight lays floating in the calm shallow sea. Edala places her hand on Midnight’s chest.
Edala: Shall we proceed?
Midnight smiles and nods in agreement with Edala.
She speaks in elven language translated as:
Edala: “Peace may fill your soul - evil shall be cleansed”.
Edala pushes down on Midnight’s chest, submerging his body underwater.
A white light flashes before his eyes.
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Midnight is awoken by a breeze of wind that brushes blades of grass against his face. The world around him is dark, yet tranquil, and he feels as if he has fallen into a living, breathing, painting of an eerie meadow. As he stands to his feet, he begins to feel alone, lost in a dream. A giant ancient tree towers before him stretching up to the stars. Deep, deep in the distance, an ancient robed elf holding a large staff stands alone in the field. Midnight squints his eyes, unable to see the elf’s face, then hears his familiar voice from across the meadow so clearly.
“Climb”, Slayer whispers.
Midnight looks to the stars and begins ascending the tree. With each branch he grapples, visions and memories flood his mind. The ancient tree begins to emit a holy aura of heavenly energy that invigorates Midnight’s soul. As he scales the giant, he is enchanted by the beautiful leaves, their divine nature, and their harmonious movements in the wind. At the tree’s peak, his eyes widened with fascination. Never has he been so close to the stars in the midnight sky. He reaches his arms out to them. Priyla, daughter of the stars, emerges from the sky holding her hand out for the little elf. Midnight’s feet are lifted from the branches and he begins floating up to her welcoming arms.
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Midnight is pulled from his dream when his body is lifted from the water by Edala. The dream lasted only a few seconds.
Edala: Young Midnight, you have been blessed by the graces of Crunor, and the elements of earth shall protect you indefinitely.
The foreign soul in Midnight remains. The fire in his eyes burned bright.
Midnight Slayer: Hantale - “Thank You.”
Midnight steps out of the water and into the grove’s soft lush grass. He can feel the energy from the earth flowing up through his bare feet and channeling through his body, strengthening and protecting him like armor. Dama stands with Faeryndil as Midnight approaches.
Faeryndil Sironoth: Ashari Midnight, and a pleasure to meet you.
Midnight Slayer: Nai elen siluva lyenna - “My blessing unto you.”
Midnight replied again in a strange elven dialect. Faeryndil recognizes the lost language but is unable to determine if the boy, or the strange soul within him is a descendant of an ancient bloodline. He kneels down on one knee to be at eye level with Midnight, then asks,
Faeryndil Sironoth: Mani essë lyen? - “Who are you?”
Midnight responds,
Midnight Slayer: Ehyeh asher ehyeh - “I am who I am.”
Faeryndil smiles and stands back to his feet. He calls Dama to the side for a private discussion. Midnight stands alone shivering from the cold. Dama returns to him moments later then guides him through the crowd leaving the grove. Together they follow the path through the forests of Ab'Dendriel to return to her friend’s home.
On the horizon, the morning rays of the sun are beginning to break through the trees.
Dama Blackheart: Do you sleep, Midnight?
Midnight Slayer: Sometimes, yes.
The lights from the distant stars slowly begin to fade from sight.
Dama sees the fire in Midnight’s eyes wither out.
Dama Blackheart: He is no longer with you, is he?
He speaks again but with only one voice.
Midnight: No.
Midnight holds the moon crescent of his necklace.
Midnight: But he will return when the sun retreats.
As they approach the home, Dama informs Midnight she must leave to meet with a few members of the Red Rose. She insists that Midnight meet with one of the leaders, Mihiron, tomorrow night. Dama assures Midnight he will be safe in her friend’s home, and she will return shortly.
Midnight smiles and thanks Dama before she departs. He then climbs the ladder to the treetop home and stands in the doorway. He sees his scrapbook sitting on a table waiting for him. Instead of entering, Midnight climbed further up to the roof then stretched his little arms and reached for one of the higher branches. He could feel a presence, aiding him, pushing him up higher in the tree until he finally settled near its peak.
Down below, Faeryndil Sironoth walks by and sees the boy up above. He is intrigued by his courage and his ability to climb so high. He smiles and waves. Midnight sees him down below, smiles, and waves back. He looks over his shoulder to the horizon once more. The light from the sun stings his eyes. He nestles under the branch’s leaves and shades himself from the morning light.
As day breaks, the little elf sleeps, drifting away in his dreams.
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-MS-
