The Herald

“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”

― Cormac McCarthy

        In the Realm of Shadow, voices of shadow whispered to themselves, and spoke to other whispers. One voice, reminiscent of The Herald’s deep, discordant tones, said, “Our King has passed on, and the one who seeks to take his place wants to rip apart the world. Who among us knows one who can lead?”

        Another voice, this one reminiscent of Celestia, replied, “The being that casts me as her Shadow is a being of Light. She cannot rule us.”

        “The being who casts me as her Shadow succumbed to Darkness once, and attempted to use corrupt Shadow. She could rule us, but there is risk involved,” said a voice like Luna’s.

Many voices added their own input, but none had a candidate that was worthy. After a long time, The Herald’s Shadow interrupted, “Silence!” The voices died down slowly, and the Shadow continued, “The Mistress Twilight is locked from the Throne, and her sibling is Mortal. We all know that saying we are not worthy will not help, so I call you to tell me who is the worthy Heir to the Shadow Throne.” A ripple of energy passed through the place where the Shadows gathered, and The Herald’s Shadow turned, gaining form. “Who goes there?”

“I am the Aspect of Wisdom,” replied a melodic voice; one that rang with ancient knowledge. As she spoke, a soft grey glow illuminated a small area, a glow centered on what looked like a grayscale gryphon.

The Herald’s Shadow, before a mostly shapeless mass, took the form of The Herald as he was during the First Age of the world, a misty shadow with white eyes and dark, cloudy wings. “And why do you come, Immortal? You are well aware that Shadow is one of the most powerful magics, and also very dangerous.”

The grey, gryphon-like Immortal stepped towards The Herald’s Shadow carefully, and nodded respectfully. “The Realm of Shadow needs a ruler, Shadow. I am here to assure that you can find an Heir to the Shadow Throne. ”

The Shadow inspected the Immortal. “I will hear all of you out, Wisdom.”

Wisdom breathed a sigh of relief. “I was worried that The Herald’s death would make your decisions... clouded. I am glad that this worry was unfounded.”

“As his Shadow, I am able to assume his position until the Heir is decided.”

“Shadow Magic must be quite powerful if you can wield that power,” complemented Wisdom truthfully. “I take it is related to The Herald being mostly Shadow anyways?”

The Herald’s Shadow nodded. “Indeed. I take it you’ve spoken to Mistress Twilight?”

The gryphon frowned slightly. “Yes, I have. The Council has been assembled for over a month now. I took it on myself to educate Twilight on her powers, and to assist her with her... damaged emotional state.”

The eyes of white widened a little, and The Shadow sighed. “Oh.”

“Well, I’m not here for idle chitchat, Shadow. Who are the candidates you have so far?” said Wisdom abruptly, turning to look at the Shadows around her.

Interestingly, the Shadow that chose to speak was Wisdom’s own. A dark duplicate of Wisdom stepped into the small pool of grey light, and said, “We can find none. We can find no Heirs among Immortals or Demigods, and few Mortals have the Blood Of Shadow in them anymore. Those who do either have barely any or have broken a Law of Shadow.” The Laws of Shadow were a code unspoken, a set of laws where the punishment was being cut off from The Realm of Shadow.

“Are you not forgetting Twilight?” prompted Wisdom.

Twilight’s Shadow stepped forward. “She has broken a Law of Shadow, Wisdom. You  know that.”

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose I do... but who will lead?”

Ripples in Shadow, unlike any Immortal’s, shook the Realm. With it came a voice of unified whispers, “I shall lead.”

Wisdom turned, her aura of grey brightening. “Who are you?”

The Herald’s Shadow laughed, a strange sound. “Even I did not believe the whispers, My Lady Mage. But here you are, brought from the grave by The Herald’s last wishes.”

Recognising the name from the story the Sisters of the Sky had told, Wisdom bowed at the rapidly approaching mist of white. “So you are The Mage. Thank you for your sacrifice long ago.”

The green, smoky eyes of The Mage peered at Wisdom from her cloak of mist. “I see that The Maker’s Children are not siding with their own father. Excellent.” She turned, facing the Shadow of The Herald. “Will you allow me to take the Shadow Throne, Shadow of my brother?”

The Shadow somehow managed to bow. “You are respected among the Shadow almost as much as The Herald, My Lady.”

In the heart of the world lay the Realms of Fire and Earth, infinite pools of power somehow contained within those finite spaces. But they were not placed there wantonly or logically; The Realms encircled the very Core of The World, the bed upon which a being older than all Immortals slept. He was kept there as part of an oath he had taken, that he would remain there until The Herald called him to war.

He was The Warrior, the Forgotten One. And he was called to war.

The Creator looked over a map, a map of the Universe from which he wove his designs and wrought his tools for plans unseen by all below. He cast no shadow, to his distaste, and the being that had once been King of Shadow still gripped at him.

“Your reach goes farther than even I anticipated, brother. You have reawakened our sister, raised all the Aspects against me, and awakened... something... in the heart of the World,” he said quietly. He uttered a short bark of laughter, as if amused. “Here I thought that I was the only one playing this game, but you knew all along, and played along with my ‘plan’. You didn’t expect to die so soon, I presume, but you still executed your plan perfectly.

But... who says I do not have allies?” The room grew cold, and color seemed to drain from it as a clawed, humanoid creature formed, shrieking. The Creator smiled widely, seeing the recognition in his brother’s faint eyes. “Yes, brother. The Darkness That Was Before... will come again, and tear this world apart with me. And nothing can stop it!”