Original - Shadow: Running
The day his mother dies is the first day the Darkness takes him. It swallows him whole - swamps his mind and whites him out. He doesn't surface for days - swimming back to consciousness in the grove of trees in the middle of a forest.
That's the first time She speaks to him too - whispers soft voices in his head, urges him to sleep. He falls the first time, slips into the darkness, exhausted from the fight it took to wake up again - unaware of what the darkness brings.
He wakes up covered in blood, deep in the shadow of a house - his fingers covered in it, soaked. The shadows hover around his shoulders, touch his face and drag their cold fingers down his back. She whispers 'Good - food. More.' And he's not strong enough to resist. He falls again.
He kills the first girl he ever kissed. He slaughterers her entire family, her block. The shadows - the voices inside of him - urge it, hunger for blood that it has never tasted, that it hungers for all the time. Always wanted, never had. He gorges himself - lets Her feed, lets Her drink all that She wants. Can't control her -
It takes him a long time to surface, a long time to pull his head up from the blood, to breathe air unclouded by the scent of fresh copper. He grabs onto the light whit his fingertips and pulls himself up, grasping. Light weaves through his hands - he pulls, hard - as hard as he can, and rushes from that darkness with a breath.
He stays aware for as long as the sun stays up. He runs - hard - as far away from the blood and the screams and the hunger in his chest as he can.
She takes him at night fall. Pulls his legs out from under him - into the shadows of oaks. He falls out of being - imminently.
He breaks on to the surface of himself the next morning. And a pattern begins - he runs every morning, as fast as he can. He runs from what he knows he did - runs from the houses that he stalks. It's to easy to slip in - falls through the cracks, easily slips in from under the doors. He doesn't even realize he can do it until he steps on the shadow of a window and suddenly is inside that house.
He doesn't know how long he runs, how far. City after city, country after country. Small towns, big cites, rural sprawls. It doesn't matter. He runs with the sun for as long as he can.
It takes Her longer and longer to pull him in - till full twilight, Till full night fall.. He runs. He escapes sooner - breaks free from the pull of Her dark ocean sooner. Every day there is less and less blood on his hands, but he's never sure of that. He never knows how long She keeps him - locks him down, under and away, breathes his air and pumps his blood.
The night it happens, all he can feel is fear. A deep, surging fear that pulls him forward. He reaches as hard as he can with it, rushing that fear to surface. Something is pushing hard against his throat - presses hard against his chest. He surges up, forward - breathing hard, gasping.
His eyes meet sky blue - the color of the mountain stream that has never been touched by humans. He's seen one once - surrounded by nothing but animals for miles, cold and covered in blood. He found a safe haven there for a moment, alone and naked and alive.
It's raining - hard droplets. He arches his back up and toward that pressure- breathing out harsh. There's something sharp in his chest - straight through, he can feel it in his back. Therese mud on his chest - on his face, in his eyes.
Black hair - strong face - strong hand around his throat. Someone screams, loud - a name, hard - and those eyes blink.
He pulls back, away, and that can't happen. That sharp pane in his chest is welcoming, an ending point. Those eyes are cold, and ruthless - but the voice that screams touches something in them.
"Please." He says. She's screaming at the back of his mind, wanting death - wanting to reach up and take this ice-blue eyed man's life. Wants his blood. The shadows pulse around him - around the edge of his vision.
Those eyes flicker back to him. Cold, She screams for that again - for his life.
"Kill me." Lucas says. Finally - he speaks for the first time in years. For the first time since She took him, his voices comes out of his own throat. For the first time since his mother was killed, he is himself.
"Please kill me." He says again. "I can't stop her-"
She swallows him again, whole - and he's plunges into blackness which he had never known before.
"Good morning." She says. Her hair is brown - voice a sweet, welcome sound. It takes him a moment to realize that he can understand her.
He sits up, quick - flattens his back against the wall. She hurries to him, hands soft - and his chest hurts. He collapses against the bed again - half sitting up, her hands catch him.
"Witch -" He spits. The markings on her face tell him as much.
"Yes." She says, helping him settle down again. "And the only person who can help you. I'm Anna."
"Lucas." He says, rough. Her hands are calming and smell like old flowers. "Lucas Maxwell."
"You almost killed me." Lucas says. The shadows in the corner twitch at him, but even with night falling quickly in the room, they don't come for him. Anna's first marks on his skin constrict around his chest, strain against his back.
The man with the ice-blue eyes smiles, a soft twitch of his lips. "You almost killed me."
Lucas' mouth twitches up in response. The Witch smiles, happy, and touches the back of his hand again. Her hands are cold, and chilling, and chase the shadows back further.
It takes three weeks for her spell to finish winding itself around his soul. She marks his body with sweet incantations, labored over for hours - black marks that are delicate and burn with power.
It takes three years for him to learn how to tap into his power without letting Her all the way out. It takes another three for him to actually be able to use it.
"You don't even need me any more." The Witch says. She's smiling wide, a smiles reserved for the two of them. Lucas snaps his Best Friend on the shoulders and moves past, quick - Shadowsteping - before the other man can react.
He's in front of her, her hands in his - cupped carefully around them. He kisses her fingertips - so greatfull - and whispers. "I'll always need you."
Lucas moves away, quickly. She doesn't belong to him - never did. His chest hurts with the thought.The shadow inside smiles Her wide smile.
He can hear the smile in her voice. "Even if you stop needing me, I'll always be there to help you."
She was one of the only people who could ever help him.
He killed her, too.
Every mark on his body screams her name - her blood and her life. Her love. His betrayal.
That's the first time She speaks to him too - whispers soft voices in his head, urges him to sleep. He falls the first time, slips into the darkness, exhausted from the fight it took to wake up again - unaware of what the darkness brings.
He wakes up covered in blood, deep in the shadow of a house - his fingers covered in it, soaked. The shadows hover around his shoulders, touch his face and drag their cold fingers down his back. She whispers 'Good - food. More.' And he's not strong enough to resist. He falls again.
He kills the first girl he ever kissed. He slaughterers her entire family, her block. The shadows - the voices inside of him - urge it, hunger for blood that it has never tasted, that it hungers for all the time. Always wanted, never had. He gorges himself - lets Her feed, lets Her drink all that She wants. Can't control her -
It takes him a long time to surface, a long time to pull his head up from the blood, to breathe air unclouded by the scent of fresh copper. He grabs onto the light whit his fingertips and pulls himself up, grasping. Light weaves through his hands - he pulls, hard - as hard as he can, and rushes from that darkness with a breath.
He stays aware for as long as the sun stays up. He runs - hard - as far away from the blood and the screams and the hunger in his chest as he can.
She takes him at night fall. Pulls his legs out from under him - into the shadows of oaks. He falls out of being - imminently.
He breaks on to the surface of himself the next morning. And a pattern begins - he runs every morning, as fast as he can. He runs from what he knows he did - runs from the houses that he stalks. It's to easy to slip in - falls through the cracks, easily slips in from under the doors. He doesn't even realize he can do it until he steps on the shadow of a window and suddenly is inside that house.
He doesn't know how long he runs, how far. City after city, country after country. Small towns, big cites, rural sprawls. It doesn't matter. He runs with the sun for as long as he can.
It takes Her longer and longer to pull him in - till full twilight, Till full night fall.. He runs. He escapes sooner - breaks free from the pull of Her dark ocean sooner. Every day there is less and less blood on his hands, but he's never sure of that. He never knows how long She keeps him - locks him down, under and away, breathes his air and pumps his blood.
The night it happens, all he can feel is fear. A deep, surging fear that pulls him forward. He reaches as hard as he can with it, rushing that fear to surface. Something is pushing hard against his throat - presses hard against his chest. He surges up, forward - breathing hard, gasping.
His eyes meet sky blue - the color of the mountain stream that has never been touched by humans. He's seen one once - surrounded by nothing but animals for miles, cold and covered in blood. He found a safe haven there for a moment, alone and naked and alive.
It's raining - hard droplets. He arches his back up and toward that pressure- breathing out harsh. There's something sharp in his chest - straight through, he can feel it in his back. Therese mud on his chest - on his face, in his eyes.
Black hair - strong face - strong hand around his throat. Someone screams, loud - a name, hard - and those eyes blink.
He pulls back, away, and that can't happen. That sharp pane in his chest is welcoming, an ending point. Those eyes are cold, and ruthless - but the voice that screams touches something in them.
"Please." He says. She's screaming at the back of his mind, wanting death - wanting to reach up and take this ice-blue eyed man's life. Wants his blood. The shadows pulse around him - around the edge of his vision.
Those eyes flicker back to him. Cold, She screams for that again - for his life.
"Kill me." Lucas says. Finally - he speaks for the first time in years. For the first time since She took him, his voices comes out of his own throat. For the first time since his mother was killed, he is himself.
"Please kill me." He says again. "I can't stop her-"
She swallows him again, whole - and he's plunges into blackness which he had never known before.
"Good morning." She says. Her hair is brown - voice a sweet, welcome sound. It takes him a moment to realize that he can understand her.
He sits up, quick - flattens his back against the wall. She hurries to him, hands soft - and his chest hurts. He collapses against the bed again - half sitting up, her hands catch him.
"Witch -" He spits. The markings on her face tell him as much.
"Yes." She says, helping him settle down again. "And the only person who can help you. I'm Anna."
"Lucas." He says, rough. Her hands are calming and smell like old flowers. "Lucas Maxwell."
"You almost killed me." Lucas says. The shadows in the corner twitch at him, but even with night falling quickly in the room, they don't come for him. Anna's first marks on his skin constrict around his chest, strain against his back.
The man with the ice-blue eyes smiles, a soft twitch of his lips. "You almost killed me."
Lucas' mouth twitches up in response. The Witch smiles, happy, and touches the back of his hand again. Her hands are cold, and chilling, and chase the shadows back further.
It takes three weeks for her spell to finish winding itself around his soul. She marks his body with sweet incantations, labored over for hours - black marks that are delicate and burn with power.
It takes three years for him to learn how to tap into his power without letting Her all the way out. It takes another three for him to actually be able to use it.
"You don't even need me any more." The Witch says. She's smiling wide, a smiles reserved for the two of them. Lucas snaps his Best Friend on the shoulders and moves past, quick - Shadowsteping - before the other man can react.
He's in front of her, her hands in his - cupped carefully around them. He kisses her fingertips - so greatfull - and whispers. "I'll always need you."
Lucas moves away, quickly. She doesn't belong to him - never did. His chest hurts with the thought.The shadow inside smiles Her wide smile.
He can hear the smile in her voice. "Even if you stop needing me, I'll always be there to help you."
She was one of the only people who could ever help him.
He killed her, too.
Every mark on his body screams her name - her blood and her life. Her love. His betrayal.