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"The Twilight King"by Aurora I "Mama? Where's my Mama?" "Sshhh, child. Your mother can't come right now." "But it's dark. Mama always told me stories when it got dark, so I wouldn't get scared." The woman stroked the child's fine, flaxen hair -- the only part of her that was still bright and vibrant. "Shall I tell you a story?" Wide eyes set in a pallid face stared up at the woman, and the youngster gave a bare nod of her head, her gaze solemn and serious. Shifting into a more comfortable position beside the child's pallet, the woman set aside the bowl of broth she'd been feeding her, gathered the threads of memory together, and began. "A long, long time ago, before the different races lived on this world, there was another race. An older one. They were older than our oldest gods and goddesses -- older than the sun and moon. The world was young, and it knew nothing of death or disease. Those people who lived back then, who were older than the gods, were happy and carefree, and none more so than the daughter of the Storm King." The child's thin voice piped up, "Was she a little girl like me?" The woman smiled. "Very much like you. She had your eyes and long, golden hair. When she laughed, it sounded like the ringing of little bells, and when she danced, she was faster than the wind." The tale-teller was rewarded with a wan smile that brought a momentary sparkle to the child's rain-grey eyes. "Her people lived in the clouds, like ours do. They chased lightning and slid down rainbows, outraced the wind and challenged the thunder. They thought they were fearless, for there was nothing to fear. Until something changed. In that ancient time, before the sun and moon, there was no night. But it came at last -- a vast darkness that blinded their eyes and stole daylight away. For the first time, they were afraid." The little girl looked knowing and fearful. "I'm afraid of the dark, too," she whispered. Smiling, the woman touched the child's bright hair again, smoothing it back from her brow. "I know. And so was the girl in the story. She didn't know what had taken all the light and warmth away. But even stronger than her fear was her need to know why. And so, after the night had stretched all across the land, she left her father and family behind, and she traveled down to the earth, and she went in search of the thing that had brought the darkness." "What did she find?" came the child's breathless whisper. In just as low a whisper, the storyteller replied, "She found a great, dark cave. It ran deep into the earth, and as she traveled into it, she thought it might never end. It was far, far away from the wind and warmth of the sky that she was used to. But more than ever, she wanted to find out what had happened, so even though she was scared, she kept going. And at long last, she found what she was looking for. She found the home of the Twilight King." The girl's eyes widened. "Who is he?" Tapping a finger against the child's nose, the woman smiled. "I was just going to tell you. He was the king of the darkness, and he had lived deep down in that cave for a long time, all alone. But even kings get lonely, and so he had sent his darkness out into the world, for he was envious of those who lived in the light, and he wanted them to know a taste of darkness." "He sounds scary," murmured the girl. She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like him." "And neither did the girl in the story," the woman replied. "At first. For as she walked through the gates of his palace, the darkness receded from the world above, and the great gates closed behind her. The Twilight King appeared to greet her, wrapped in his darkness like a cloak, with eyes as black as midnight. His voice was a rumble of thunder in her ears as he said, 'This is your home now, Storm's Daughter. And you will become my wife.'" The child gasped, and the woman smiled anew to see the expression of indignation eclipsing the girl's weariness. But before her sense of accomplishment could last for very long, the youngster insisted, "Tell what happens next!" and so the woman continued. "The Twilight King may have been stern, but he was also generous. He gave her anything she ever asked for -- lovely gowns, brilliant jewels, clever pets, faithful servants... for his home was hers, and it was a beautiful one. His palace was built from gold and silver, from glittering gems and crystals, and there were many wondrous things to behold." Stalling the girl's inevitable question with an upraised finger and a knowing smile, the tale-teller described, "There were no forests beneath the earth, so he had made his own. The trees were shaped from stone, and instead of leaves, they held emeralds and diamonds, topaz and ruby. And instead of real birds, he carved ones so convincing that they looked ready to take flight, and if you touched their beaks, they would sing for as long as you wanted. He had crystal gardens and deep, underground pools so clear you could see every pebble along the bottom, and in his palace, each room was finer than the next, until the girl felt she might go blind from all that brilliance. For a time, after she knew she could not escape, she was content. The Twilight King was always courteous and kind, yet every time she mentioned the world above, he would tell her only, 'this is your home now.'" "What did she do? She should run away," was the child's petulant solution, for evidently the description of untold wealth did not impress her. The woman smiled musingly. "She wanted to. She planned to. But each time she was ready to make her escape, the King would present her with a new gift, or show her some new sight she had never seen before, and she came to realize that his world was just as beautiful as the one she'd left behind, in its own way. And she learned that the Twilight King was gentle, and caring, and that it was only loneliness that drove him to keep her there, rather than spite. And so, as time went on, she thought of escaping less and less, though she always missed her father and family." With her grey eyes wide, the child whispered, "I do too," and with a pang of sympathy, the woman squeezed the girl's hand. The girl did not ask where her mother was again, but merely prompted, "What happened then?" "Well, it happened that a little bird found its way into the cave, and got lost. It had injured its wing, and the young woman found it, and brought it back to the palace with her. She put it in a beautiful golden cage, and fed it food from her own plate, and cared for it until it was well again. But she was afraid that if she let it out, it would fly away and leave her, and that bird was her only link to the world above. It sang so sweetly, and unlike the songs of the Twilight King's mechanical birds, its voice was wild and pure, and it reminded her of wind and rain and the glory of flight. "But though the young woman had reconciled herself to living below the earth, the bird did not. It wanted its freedom more than anything else, and eventually it stopped singing and just sat in its cage, looking forlorn, until the young woman grew so worried she thought it might die. Later, when she dined with the Twilight King, she told him of the bird's sickness, and he grew very solemn and grave, and finally told her that she should let it go. "'But it will fly away forever and leave me,' she said. "'Sometimes, that is a chance you must take,' the king replied. "The young woman grew very quiet, and at last she said cautiously, 'But you have never taken that chance.' "The Twilight King bowed his head and closed his great, dark eyes, and finally he murmured, 'I know. But I am afraid that if I let you go, you will fly away forever and leave me.' "And she whispered his own words back to him, 'Sometimes, that is a chance you must take,' and the Twilight King knew he had to release her. So he did." The child's eyes grew round. "He let her go? Did she go back to her family? Did she see her Mama and Papa again?" The woman smiled indulgently and tousled the girl's soft hair. "Just wait," she chided gently before continuing. "The Twilight King was afraid she would never return, and he told her to take one thing with her -- one thing dear to her heart -- so that she might remember him. The young woman thought of her many fine possessions, yet though she was fond of them, she knew she could just as easily leave them behind. So she dressed in the clothes she had worn when she entered, and, taking the bird cage in hand, she went to the king, and he asked her what she would take with her to the world above." "'You,' the young woman replied. "The Twilight King looked surprised, and she hurried on. 'You are the only thing here that is dear to my heart. I have lived down here with you in the darkness, and now I want you to come live with me in the light.' "'But,' the Twilight King murmured, 'I am afraid.' The young woman smiled, and reached out to take his hand. "'There is nothing to fear,' she told him. 'Let me show you my world.' "And together, they walked to the mouth of the great cave, and though the king was fearful of the light that streamed in from the world above, he held onto her hand and kept walking, until he discovered that the light hurt no more than his eyes." The little girl was smiling, and she clutched eagerly at the woman's hand. "Did they live happily ever after?" she asked. "They did," the woman answered. "For they learned to share both their worlds. Sometimes they would live above in the light, and the Storm King's daughter showed her husband all the beauty of the land and sky. And then sometimes they would go back down to his wonderful palace below, and when that happened, the world would grow dark again; yet the creatures of the earth were no longer afraid of the night, for they could see that it held as much beauty as the daylight. "The little bird they had set free was grateful, and whenever the Twilight King and his Queen would ascend to the world above, it would sing a welcoming song to them, just as sweetly as it had sang in its cage. In time, it became known as a nightingale, and you can still hear the song it sings, whenever dusk is approaching. "And when the King and Queen at last bore two children, they named them Sun and Moon, and the siblings would play and chase each other across the sky... and they still do, to this day." "Ohhh," the girl breathed, smiling sleepily as the tale ended. "I like that story. Do you think, some time, you could tell it to me again?" The woman leaned down and kissed the girl's fevered forehead, answering, "I would be happy to."
Swallowing, Aurora gathered the girl's body into her arms and held her for a long time, rocking her back and forth. "I know," she whispered into the child's silky, golden hair. "Neither am I." FIN
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