Shadows of Darkness

The cast of the moonlight beam was just even for the entrance to be seen. The creatures where silent and ever so still barely moving against their will. The pathway was lit just even to see the garden gate and the lock in the gleam. The memories would flood too many unknown, all she could remember was this was the place a child called home.

The weight of a bag was pulled across the ground, making something like a thud, thunk type of sound. The reflection of double blades could be seen clearly in the beam, as she held them in her right hand. The padlock looked to be untouched, it didn’t surprise her the students didn’t venture out here much, around her neck was a small key.

Humming softly a poem she knew as old, something that she knew another in the castle would hear and show….

“Come little children, I’ll take thee away. Into a land of enchantment. Come little children, the times come to play. Into the garden of shadows.”

A laugh, a tainted laugh would be heard echoing against the walls as she laid the bag on the ground and reached up for the key, and shoving it into lock. A twist and click would release the bonds as the rusted chain swung to the side without alarm.

Casting a glare behind her into the dark, as she hoisted up into her hand, using her free one she would use to send the door back. Stepping into the over grown veins and then disappearing in a snap, stopping just inside the wall.
Leaving the door open as the alluring voice was sing, into the darkness calling the shadows to their queen.

“Follow sweet children, I’ll show you the way. Through all the pain and the sorrows. Weep not poor children. For life is this way, murdering beauty and passions….”

In one corner of the garden, cloaked in midnight shadows of the deepest black, the darkness congealed into substance. Wisps of darkness swirled, appearing as nothing more than smoke at first glance. Seconds passed and they grew more distinct until their true form was revealed, that of thin black threads, like strands of the sky webbed between the stars. Within the span of a few breaths, they shaped themselves into a ball and then exploded outward, and in their midst stood a man, the fibers clinging to his cloth and fluttering in the gentle breeze like mist. He wore a black suit with a top hat, the jacket partially concealing an ivory suit and thin black tie. Lifting a pale-fingered hand, he adjusted the knot of his tie—an unnecessary gesture, but one he occasionally performed without the aid of his magics—and cleared his throat.

“And at last, here is the reclusive headmistress; decided to come out of hiding, have we?” asked the man in a mildly mocking tone, his lips spreading in a small smirk that glinted the moonlight entering the garden. He scrutinized her, brown eyes lowering and rising, as he took in every detail of the self-proclaimed matriarch of the school. When his eyes met hers after he’d finished examining her, he clucked his tongue and gave a shake of his head in obvious disapproval. “Not much to you, is there?” A cane appeared in his hands, materializing from a cloud of threads. He planted its silver-capped bottom on the ground, cupped the bulb handle in both hands, and leaned forward over it. “For someone so hard to learn anything about, I must say, I am not that impressed.”

The man shrugged his shoulders, the dark cloth of his suit shifting across his frame. “Let me guess, you have personality?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes and straightening up again. With a flick of his wrist, he pointed his cane at her, waving the end to gesture to the entirety of her body. “While I do enjoy the old styles myself, it’s generally a good idea to try to pick clothes from this century.” He paused, flashing her a wicked grin, mischief stitched into the expression. “I think you are long overdue for a look that’s a bit more, shall we say, modern?”

[Ignore previous post, carry on as if it wasn't here.]

The beating wings of the Raven filled the air of one of the various hallways connecting the University to the rest, signaling the arrival to the latest student. the echo of black leather steel toe boots following along at an almost leisurely pace. A breeze flowing through an open window lifted the trailing, tattered length of cloth of this new students eye wrap to brush along his arms. The Raven rested itself briefly upon a statue hugging alcoves in the walls, waiting, its head cocking to the side, black eyes gazing back to his companion.

Kurayami, the name of the Raven, let out a guttural caw, as if to signal Amato, it's blind friend, to hurry his pace. A smile spread over the lips of the young man, "Calm yourself my friend..." He spoke in a soft tone, shaking his head slowly. He gazed at himself, watching his own actions through the eyes of Kurayami as he caught up to his patiently waiting feathered friend. "We are at our new home now. There is no need to rush this exploration. We will have plenty of time in the morning." he mimicked the Raven, cocking his head to the side as the Raven let out a call, ruffling his feathers in apparent agitation. "What has you on such edge I wonder..." He pondered this as he continued to step closer to his 'pet'.

It was then he heard it. The soft melodious singing coming from deep within Caislin Hallows.

“Come little children, I’ll take thee away. Into a land of enchantment. Come little children, the times come to play. Into the garden of shadows.”

Amato stopped his walking, listening to the tune. Such beautiful words. "Find the source..." He spoke to Kurayami, his voice losing its almost humorous tone. He could tell that there was some kind of magic behind those words and he felt compelled to heed the words. "Bring me to it." Said almost like an order, the Raven took off, his wings beating as it rode the air through the winding hallways. Amato remained where he stood, the raven's sight flowing into his mind as if it was his won. He watched, making a map in his memory. each turn, the distance between such, everything was locked away.

“Follow sweet children, I’ll show you the way. Through all the pain and the sorrows. Weep not poor children. For life is this way, murdering beauty and passions….”

It was then he began to walk, his speed casual but his posture carrying the sense of alertness. After all, he was blind and though he knew the way, he always took care of where his feet fell. Not even Kurayami could see everything at the rate he was flying. A cold breeze hit his bare chest, fingers idly tugging on the front of his opened, brown leather performers coat, the tails hitting his heels as they lifted from the ground. When he arrived to where his Raven was waiting he saw, through the bird another entering through Vine covered doors. turning his blind gaze to his friend and motioning with his head, the bird hopped from its perched and glided down onto his shoulder. Talons gripping onto the thick leather as Amato approached the opening but did not pass through it. He just stood there, head turned slightly, listening to those on the other side. One definitely sounded hostile. But who else was in there he wondered...

Decay had swept over this area a long time ago, the painter had long forgotten his set of paints to rust in a bucket somewhere hidden among the twisted veins. Time stood still here, the evidence lingered on the branches of the trees. They were so brittle they would break with the oncoming breeze. For every wonder there was a hate, and for every hate there was a mistake. She had made plenty and today. Well today perhaps was the beginning of another cycle. The voice of an angel the voice of the night, the voice of a nightingale singing to the light, she was there once again.

Alone in the darkness and the shadows, among her friends the song would continue as she called to them. Yet, the longer her voice remained to be heard she would continue her reason for coming here intent on to disturb.

“Hush now dear children. It must be this way, to weary of life and deceptions. Rest now dear children, for soon we’ll away into the calm and the quiet.”

Reaching for the bag once more gripped tightly in her right hand as she made her way towards the large oak tree in the center of the garden. All around life had once been, yet now death had sucked out the life of the once beautiful garden. She only came here when she was in need she doubted anyone even knew the chamber existed. The presence was felt and yet she ignored it as she lowered the bag to the ground and moved over to an old rickety wood shed, rotted out by earth’s creatures.

Ducking in the cobwebs danced overhead as a shovel was plucked form is resting place, and she would turn hearing the voice now announce itself.

Golden eyes would flicker like a candle being threatened by the oncoming wind, yet the spheres would swirl watching the man in the top hat approach. Seeing past him she knew that two others were near, using her enhanced sight. Serpent like her tongue would press against the back of her teeth as she listened to his words.

Casting his line out like a fool, the maiden would say nothing only stand there a beauty the gift of the night.

Her grip only tightened on the handle of the rusted shovel as she moved back over towards the tree. This time in perfect step so that her feet could be seen, so she would not appear just as an illusion, with a downward digging motion she would began to shovel a small shallow grave near the large oak tree. The presence of the others lingered just outside of the garden walls, as she reached towards the bag and lifted it only to let it fall with a ‘thud’ against the newly raked grave.

As she began lifting the soil back over the bag covering it bit by bit she did not chose to speak until the deed on why she came there was complete.

Resting the shovel against the trunk of the tree, she folded her hands in front of her and stared at the man.

“I’m often seen around a lot, referred to many ways. See me black and you may find misfortune haunts your days. Tell a thing that should be kept quiet…” She would allow the words to linger, and only then continue. “….to all around. Then look in the sack, there I am no longer found. Nosiness, prying, snooping, leaves me fearing, full of dread. For all these things are likely to see me soon lying dead.”

Extending her hand outwards pointing in the direction of the door in whence they came she saw them. A whisper only he would hear “There they are, they always come the puppets, the marionettes on strings. The game has never changed the modern and old, they always return, no matter what cloths I chose to robe.”

The maiden remained there, silent and still unmoving for the moment’s breath of her skill. Pressing her lips together she once more began to sing to the garden. The tension would built as it threatened to protect her against this being.

A low hanging fog would began to collect itself across the ground, as if she anticipated him to make a move. This was the game a chess was it not, the queen was about to checkmate the king.

Just within earshot, the Puppeteer heard the faint fluttering of feathered wings and the thump of heavy boots before both sounds ceased, stopping short of the vine shrouded doorway. Were it a curtain, he would have cast it back with his powers, making the cloth obey his will, to unveil the interloper as he threatened to interrupted a meeting of betters. No, let him have his anonymousness, he’s not worth acknowledging, decided the Puppeteer, redirecting his attention fully to the vampiress again.

As they were, the trio could have been siblings, brothers and sisters of shadow for each one represented it in one way or another even if the other might not know it. The Puppeteer garbed himself in fabric of a pure black that only the shadows of the deepest, darkest caves where sunlight never went, explorers never reached, could ever match it. The woman was a creature of the night and shadows were her home and comfort—the Puppeteer knew her kind drew shadow around themselves as he did cloth. And the last, even though the Puppeteer was unaware, was also a child of shadow, his magic compose of it, but more acutely, he was blind, which gave an intimacy and affinity with darkness that few could comprehend without his affliction. To the Puppeteer though, the intruder was of no concern, at worst, he was on par with lint to be plucked from his suit and discarded.

When the woman spoke, his brow wrinkled with irritation like ruffled fabric. Perhaps, he could have assumed she was speaking in some old style that he had missed during his two centuries of captivity in a crypt, but it was far easier to consider her daft. When fog drifted across the ground, swirling around her ankles like the hem of a soft, silk gown, he tightened his grip on his cane, ready to unscrew the top from the sheath-shaft to draw the hidden steel blade. Trickery, deceit, guile and duplicity were his tools which he utilized as skillfully as any needle and thread or pair of shears, and he was loathe having them potentially turned against him by such an uninteresting and unappealing woman.

Still, her odd tone and words rattled the Puppeteer just enough to keep him on edge, tension in his tightening muscles masked by the smooth cloth of his suit. “You speak in riddles and poorly at that, woman,”, snapped the tailor, teeth flashing in an aggravated sneer. To be insulted was one thing, but he felt she was instead writing him off by speaking of other things and hardly responding to him directly.

“Is this your puppet?” demanded the Puppeteer, threads snaring the vines dangling across the doorway and drawing them back to reveal the youth and his familiar if they did not move quickly enough. “I speak not of and care little for whelps such as this mortal. It is you that I address, vampire.”

Amato listened to what was happening on the other side of the vines, Kurayami's head cocked curiously to the side, unable to see through the tangled mess. One thing was for sure, the man, who ever he was, did not enjoy the presence of the woman who spoke in riddles. With a motion of his head, the raven took flight from Amato's shoulders, beating against the air to find landing on a statuette giving him the view - And through him, Amato - of his blind friend and the vine covered entry way.

Fingers traced over the flora covering as he listened. Puppet? he wondered for the briefest of moments. The vines shifted ever so slightly as something grabbed hold of them. Alarm shot through Amato and he quickly spun to the side in a fluid motion, his back pressing against the stone hugging the hidden door, shadows wrapping around him. The blind student cursed under his breath for being found out so quickly. Whoever the thread bearer was, he was skilled and obviously paid close attention to his surroundings.

He made a quick movement with his hand towards the Raven. It let out a caw before leaving its stone resting place, wings flapping as it flew through the now exposed opening. He looked down at the man with the cane, and the riddle speaker of a woman, taking them both in as it circled around the tree, landing on a branch high in the air where it continued to watch both closely.

Letting out a soundless sigh, Amato shook his head before pressing the back of it against the cool shadowed stone wall. He was already discovered. But that did not mean he had to play by the mans rules. In a near inaudible whisper, Amato spoke, "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned..." It was what he said to focus himself for the more difficult abilities of his. Having spent the majority of his training after his escape in abandoned churches on his journey here. The words had been carved into the near rotted wood of many pews along the crossing of continents.

As he spoke the words, a red cross appeared along his left cheek, just beneath the cloth of his wrap. He allowed his mind to remember all of those who he harmed, using the combination of his and their pain from the ordeals to feed his resolve and to harness the Shadows within. Black mist began to seep through the weaves of the wrap over his eyes. The vapor slithering down his body, hugging to his form on its journey to the ground. Though it did not pool when it reached there instead it seemed to absorb into the shadows around his feet. The shadow seemed to ripple with new found energy, like a pebble dropped into a pond. The shadow continued to ripple until it became of any and all color. His body gave a slight jerk, face showing a sort of inner pain at the flood of dark memories, blood trickling down his cheek from the red cross. It ran down his cheek to his jaw, then, following the contours of his face, trickled idly to his chin. If the blood was to drip and land in the shadows, then his preparation would be complete.