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Shadows in Light	By : rafusen Category: +. to F > Fushigi Yuugi Views: 1243 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Fushigi Yuugi, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Disclaimer: Hi. It�s not mine. It�s Watase�s

Little Blog: Well, I�ve returned from the enveloping darkness of depression with greater aspiration than ever before! Wug wug wugga wug! Don�t be coy, and make sure to review.

The wind is my horse, rising as does the tide at evenfall, gliding through the torrents of snow and ice, glaciers of swelling dark clouds. Fluctuating luxuriously betwixt intense speed and softness, feel the breath of winter cool on the nape of my neck, riddled in my black heart.
Many seasons come and go in the years I have dwelt upon this earth, this realm of men, creatures worthy only of the night, by the standards of the great high aelves, and only of death by those of darker nature. Yet I have found that not all mortal beings are thus undesirable; there are some which could even be considered heroic, if it were the case. Myriads of scrolls depict the adventures of such men and mages, transforming their world so as to benefit mankind.

It is purely by chance that I should have come to know a being so honorable.
I am, in fact, a defect in the aelfin society, besmirching sought -after perfection. My mother, a svartalfar, or notorious Dark aelf, was sorely assorted with my father, an incredibly powerful and highly respected ljosalfar, considerably aloft and far removed from her realm. In the intolerable depths of the darkness shrouding her existence, thoughts of light pervaded her mind, pierced through a heart destined to eternal night. Unable to rid herself of the memory of him, she sought him out, disobediently trespassing into the realm of the ljosalfar, if only to glimpse him for a moment�so she could perish, rotting away in a self-contained hell, with his memory to nourish her.

Strangely, my father was the one who espied her roaming about the traces of shadows alongside the high walls of Ljosalfarheim, her visage hidden from light. Thinking her a golem or bogie intending to cause mischief, he drut hut his foil and threatened her casually, for such creatures are easily dissuaded from action by simple intimidation. When a response came not to his knightly ears, he reasoned either this particular hobgoblin was deaf or perhaps intended much more than he had originally perceived. My mother, unafraid yet satisfied at having seen him again, slowly emerged from the shadow to which she was accustomed, revealing her dark form, not unlovely yet peculiar in such a realm.

But her eyes�they were full of shimmering light.
Or so the legend goes, as neither of them lived to tell me of their love. My father was hence smitten with her, vibrantly beautiful yet starkly bitter; and she, already impassioned by his wondrous glamour and nobility, swore to him her life and love. They commenced seeing each other within the secret confines of the earthly realm, where the common aelf hardly treks, let alone a high or Dark one, and he gat upon her a creature to be condemned for all time: light and darkness, sun and moon, heaven and hell, bound up into a form I well know:

Myself.

As soon as I took in my first drink of air, were my parents slain by the rules of the Order, that mixing ljosalfar and svartalfar blood was highly treasonous, poisoning the pure blood of a high aelf with some disgusting bile. My mother was torn apart in the customary fashion in which the Svartalfar revel, their bloodthirsty drive bludgeoning all sense; my father was simply dissipated, entirely �civil�. They claim his body diminished into a thousand rainbows, and that one certain mornings you can still see them highlighting the mountains of the earthly realm.

The ljosalfar appointed to claim my own life was merciful. She could not follow through with killing me, simply because her heart, though always treacherous it is, whispered that some good may sprout yet from this abomination.

For the first few decades of my existence, I was permitted to dwell among the ljosalfar. I suppose this was considered lenient, yet the insufferable loneliness I endured all those long years, silently scorned for having ever existed, ignored, avoided and neglected were perhaps worse than any physical torture, worse even than death itself. To be utterly alone, with no one to understand you, or love you, is the most terrible feeling in the world.
I cannot remember when, exactly, they decided to transfer me from the high realm of light into the deepest dark fathomed by mortal and immortal alike. They came for me one evening, whilst I was sleeping in my solitary confinement, brought me before the ljosalfar who had once been instructed to take my life. Disturbed from some foresight, she ordered me placed into the care of the Svartalfar for the rest of my subsistence. It made no difference to me at the time; to be alone was my sentence, whether I had to be so in light or darkness mattered not.
But I was unawares of the ways of the svartalfar, having always been amongst the higher aelves.
Unlike the ljosalfar, the svartalfar took notice of their prisoner forthwith. Once the ljosalfar had me imprisoned within the deepest crevices of Svartalfarheim, they departed, considering me death�s claim. I would eventually wither, having been made of two components, two elements. My ljosalfar blood could not endure such bleak darkness for long; soon I would be nothing more than an empty shell, soulless, in an eternity of isolation.
I was not alone for one moment of the three hundred years I suffered in the depths of Hell.
Treated with disgust and anger, the dark aelves did everything they could to inflict pain upon me. They could not be satisfied until I would break, shatter into thousands of pieces. Night after night, for there is no day in such a place, I withstood tortures too repulsive to describe. I feared to close my eyes, lest I be forced into some new painful device. Now I had not the luxury of death: knowing that I was a hybrid excited the svartalfar in a twisted manner, as if they were somehow inflicting pain upon the whole of the high aelf race by torturing me.

It was also rumored that because I was considered beautiful, I was loathed all the more, for svartalfar, in general, are hideous creatures, salivating, mad with demonic power. They were filled with thick animosity at my presence, determined to deform my physical body however it may be done, and take my sanity as well. Passingly cruel were the endless nights, and , stricken with an intense feeling of despair, I would hide in the shrouded cracks among the ancient stone walls, my physical body seized with erratic tremors. Watching as deformed, blackened beings swarmed about, forging the dark swords of extraordinary yet detrimental power from metals this world cannot see, cannot fathom, I cringed lest their penetrating eyes should uncover my temporary veil of discretion. The pounding of great mallets on the magical instruments of war resounded through the tunnels of the deep, shaking the hardened earth beneath my feet. Fires of tremendous proportions leapt heavenward, perhaps in a futile attempt to escape the dreary dank of the underworld, furnishing the workings of twisted minds and consciences, a scalding heat absorbing the very air one breathed.

Sometime around the turning of my 300^th year (I had managed to keep count of my age on a moonstone belt locked about my waist as a device of torture, whittling with a discarded slice of iron tiny marks upon it) a great sweep of madness overtook the svartalfar, and they proposed to do damage upon the common aelves so as to make an impression to be feared upon the ljosalfar. An enormous army was formed in those dark grottoes, putrid minions writhing about fanatically in their unfed wrath, wielding swords promising death on thousands. At the time, I had been enslaved by a certain svartalfar of high standing, Cernobog. The idea of such chaotic creatures having rank and such had never occurred to me whilst I was in the realm of light, yet the svartalfar proved to outdo the ljosalfar in this manner, giving each member of this evil race a position and title due to his agility and dexterity with weaponry. Cernobog had, in fact, forged some of the greatest swords in the mythology of aelves; he was undefeated in battle, and in ugliness as well. Such a being I would have never had guessed at existing, excepting for that I saw him myself, and endured him.

He had me chained in his deep dungeons, with such powerful fetters so as I should never escape, sealed with a magic bond to outlast my own existence, and when he came to me it was never for anything but his own repelling desires. I remember the blood foaming out of my mouth in great waves, feeling the darkness of his body severing my own�and knowing that, despite it all, I would have to bear this shame for millennia to come.

One night an overwhelming scent of rotting flesh enveloped me, blood freshly spilt. It seemed to be pouring from every small crack and crevice in the chamber, and I was terrified lest I be drowned in it. Fighting with all my strength against the bonds which ensnared me, crying out desperately for anyone to hear to release me from this horrifying nightmare so quick to devour me, I felt as if my very spirit was departing. The dungeon filled quite fast with the thick, blackish liquid, an odor so alarmingly disgusting I gagged, my fetters becoming slack as I slumped to the stone floor.

So it is my end, finally; in a sense, I could only be relieved, that at last, at last! I would suffer nothing. I would float into the depths of unconsciousness, fro from the pain my short and pathetic life had ordained me. As I tasted the foul blood on my lips, my body immersed, I could only hope with my last thought to see light again, if only for a moment�

I had no fond memories of love or happiness, but light�in so dark a place as my heart�would help to unburden my soul from the ties to this world.

It was then a great flash of brilliance rained in upon my eyes, a blinding power absorbing me entirely, generating in my heart, an intense, vibrating luminescence. I felt the fetters unclasp from about my swollen, bruised wrists faintly; grasping at the niches in the crafted walls, I climbed effortlessly to the ceiling, tearing through the stone with my fingertips, watching as it crumbled into the swirling pool of blood beneath me.

When I managed to delve my way out of Svartalfarheim, which took me perhaps several years, I emerged into a world I did not know. It seemed disturbingly silent and thick with life; frightened, I wept, unable to endure being both lost and alone.

Tiny, unrecognizable sprites, one does not see in the aelven realms, dragged my swooning form to a mountain cave, leaving me just as quickly as they had come. For ages, it seemed, I lay, incapable of movement nor speech. The things that had come to pass sank into my heart a deep depression, leaving invisible scars in my mind. What was I to do now? Surely returning to the ljosalfar, if I could even survive such a trek, would only result in my death, or banishment. And I had no desire to know of what became of those darker beings who so reveled in my pain.

So I decided to live in this new place, so fresh with warmth, light and beauty. Even the very heights of Ljosalfarheim could not compare! Creatures of all kinds dwelled here, some with wings, some with many legs, all beautiful, all wondrous. Faeries, generally disregarded from aelvish notion, were abundant, floating mid heaven with songs in the wind. I was not really alone, then, though these beings and I could not communicate fully.

My one growing fear, however, was should the ljosalfar find out I still exist, they would wish to tear me from this place I had come to cherish. Avowing that such a thing should never come to pass, I silently roved about my new home with the caution a serpent carries. I made sure nothing should escape my eyes, for this dread in my heart steadily throbbed.
Then�I saw him.
A creature I had never glimpsed before, much like an aelf in features, yet strangely lacking the predominant features of the immortal. This being seemed to live in an earthed abode of some sort, fashioned by his own hands, no doubt. The sound of bells in the wind drew me to it for the first time, and, terribly curious thing that I am, I was drawn to the pleasant nature of what lay within.

A lovely aura of gentleness permeated the air around him, though he was far from me in the realm of dreams. I had never in all my years seen anything so wonderful. Hair like the snow reflected in the sky, complexion to be compared even with the fairest of high aelves, this creature enamored me immediately, carving a distinct longing in my heart. I watched him sleep through his window each night, absorbed entirely by the mere movement of his breath, the flutter of his eyelids. I suppose I was becoming too obvious, for he began to suspect something, therefore I was inclined to hide. Sensing no anger in him, however, I chose instead to reveal myself to him.

How afraid he was! I could detect it in his deep mahogany eye, his tremulous hands. Forwardly I dared to sit near him, to try and entice him to look at me. A feeling was stirred within me, one so entirely foreign and grievous I felt pained. I had heard of such a feeling�but how could I possibly know it�imperfection that I am�

Yet it was there, impeding victoriously, and I grew insanely attached to this being. My loneliness had at last dissipated!

There was no way to make him understand my language, and I his. Yet some common bond had drawn us together, perhaps our desire to be loved, to be free of pain, and solitude.

And I fought like hell, all these years, to ensure it would last. You know of our trials from his own telling of the tale.
He is matured now, certy noy not the young mage I first came to know. A man, is what you would call him. And wonderfully grown, too�for being so mortal. His slightness has almost entirely disappeared into a masculine strength, though he is still rather frail, and his speech much more confident. Everything about him has me ensnared�his touch, his innocence, his overwhelming beauty, though he insists he is quite deformed. (Due to his lack of both functional eyes. Yet to me this accentuates his already magnificent structure.)

In our tiny dwelling hidden from the cares of the world, all is happiness, grateful as we are for our love.
Yet, I feel the time has come. I must depart.
I have noticed that my body, with each passing day, is growing more and more powerful, aglow with energy I am struggling to comprehend. It seems even the mountain I could entirely crush with the palms of my hands, were it my desire to do so. A dark, sinister strength is blooming deep inside me, nothing I have ever experienced before�

�and now I will finally, finally, return to the place from which I came.

So as to destroy it.

*^^* Hee hee!! What think?!?! Review!

Chichiri: What evil awaits no da!!!???

Tasuki: >><< MEEEEEEE!!!!! Wug wa!
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Shadows in Light