A Story From 3:30 a.m.
"We are weak,” exclaimed Luminous, “and we shall grow weaker still, until we are extinguished.”
The Gleam could do nothing but laugh.
“You always give up so easily, old friend. We have been through more difficult times, and we shall go through worse. Stop being so frightened.”
“Had I enough fire in my frame, Gleam, you and I would surely battle over those words!”
“You’ve never had the heat to fight me, Luminous! I--”
“Will the two of you be quiet?” interrupted Radiant with the tone of an irritated parent. “The angrier you get, the more tired you will become. Let us contemplate our situation yet again.”
“Should we wait for The Glow?” asked Luminous quietly. The three of them looked over at the oldest of their kind, who flickered quietly in the darkness.
“No,” said Radiant, “let him rest. We shall wake him when we have reached a decision.”
“We have already reached our decision, though we had no choice in that matter. We are remembered by so few, all of them so old that they will soon pass, and us with them.”
“Luminous…is right,” said the Gleam with obvious resignation in his voice. “Even those who remember us, their palms never come together in prayer anymore. And without that prayer, we are nothing.”
“Surely,” Radiant asked, “between the three of us we have enough fire left to create a new emissary, one who can bring worship and power to us?”
“No, you don’t,” came a quiet voice. It was The Glow, awakened from his slumber. “But even of ones like us, a sacrifice is sometimes demanded.”
The others retreated as The Glow began to brighten.
“Stop!” shouted Radiant.
“You’ll burn yourself out!” cried Luminous.
“Yes, I shall…and it shall be for nothing, unless the three of you come, and offer to me the tiniest spark. Though I shall pass, and even you may not survive, we shall create a prophet one last time.”
Wordlessly, they all approached The Glow and offered to him what they could. As he brightened, they dimmed. None of them spoke, and soon the light became as powerful as it had been so many ages ago.
“It is done,” said The Glow, as he became part of The Dark.
In his place, there grew a tiny pinprick of light. It floated with uncertainty, occasionally bobbing in place. The three were so weary that they could do nothing but watch as the small light began to explore, touching all of them in turn, and lifting their spirits.
“Little one…” said Luminous, with great effort. “You need…a name.”
“A new…name,” offered Radiant, “as the time…for the old names…has passed.”
They became silent again as the bright little prophet began to dart around like an insect, inexplicably pausing in one spot before speeding to another.
“I have your name in my heart,” said The Gleam at last. “Take it with you, to where our one-time worshippers live. Use it, and use the boundless energy of youth, to convince…nay, to remind them that we exist. Speak, in particular, to the children, such that they may teach their own children of us. Bring us their prayers, bring us their faith and belief, and we may yet survive to celebrate life alongside you.”
Radiant and Luminous waited for The Gleam to rest a moment. When he spoke again, they knew that the name was right, and that their salvation was at hand.
“Go now, Tinkerbell, and make their tiny hands dance for us again.”
The Gleam could do nothing but laugh.
“You always give up so easily, old friend. We have been through more difficult times, and we shall go through worse. Stop being so frightened.”
“Had I enough fire in my frame, Gleam, you and I would surely battle over those words!”
“You’ve never had the heat to fight me, Luminous! I--”
“Will the two of you be quiet?” interrupted Radiant with the tone of an irritated parent. “The angrier you get, the more tired you will become. Let us contemplate our situation yet again.”
“Should we wait for The Glow?” asked Luminous quietly. The three of them looked over at the oldest of their kind, who flickered quietly in the darkness.
“No,” said Radiant, “let him rest. We shall wake him when we have reached a decision.”
“We have already reached our decision, though we had no choice in that matter. We are remembered by so few, all of them so old that they will soon pass, and us with them.”
“Luminous…is right,” said the Gleam with obvious resignation in his voice. “Even those who remember us, their palms never come together in prayer anymore. And without that prayer, we are nothing.”
“Surely,” Radiant asked, “between the three of us we have enough fire left to create a new emissary, one who can bring worship and power to us?”
“No, you don’t,” came a quiet voice. It was The Glow, awakened from his slumber. “But even of ones like us, a sacrifice is sometimes demanded.”
The others retreated as The Glow began to brighten.
“Stop!” shouted Radiant.
“You’ll burn yourself out!” cried Luminous.
“Yes, I shall…and it shall be for nothing, unless the three of you come, and offer to me the tiniest spark. Though I shall pass, and even you may not survive, we shall create a prophet one last time.”
Wordlessly, they all approached The Glow and offered to him what they could. As he brightened, they dimmed. None of them spoke, and soon the light became as powerful as it had been so many ages ago.
“It is done,” said The Glow, as he became part of The Dark.
In his place, there grew a tiny pinprick of light. It floated with uncertainty, occasionally bobbing in place. The three were so weary that they could do nothing but watch as the small light began to explore, touching all of them in turn, and lifting their spirits.
“Little one…” said Luminous, with great effort. “You need…a name.”
“A new…name,” offered Radiant, “as the time…for the old names…has passed.”
They became silent again as the bright little prophet began to dart around like an insect, inexplicably pausing in one spot before speeding to another.
“I have your name in my heart,” said The Gleam at last. “Take it with you, to where our one-time worshippers live. Use it, and use the boundless energy of youth, to convince…nay, to remind them that we exist. Speak, in particular, to the children, such that they may teach their own children of us. Bring us their prayers, bring us their faith and belief, and we may yet survive to celebrate life alongside you.”
Radiant and Luminous waited for The Gleam to rest a moment. When he spoke again, they knew that the name was right, and that their salvation was at hand.
“Go now, Tinkerbell, and make their tiny hands dance for us again.”