Dear Reader,
If you are
in possession of this story, it means I have escaped. And I’m sure by the time
you have started reading this, you’ve heard the tales of Nadalia the Rebel, or
Nadalia the Cunning. Maybe even Nadalia the brave. From all great events come
great stories, and always written by the victor. Unfortunately, at this time, I
cannot tell you who the victor is. I can, however, tell you that these stories
are false.
I did not
start out for fame or recognition, or to prove myself as a female in a man’s
role. There was only one thing I wanted; freedom. Ironic, as I have obtained
the very opposite. I can only hope now that my people have followed my lead and
risen up against Him. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the
beginning.
Long before
I was born, my people settled the land isolated between to large mountain
ranges. They gave us partial protection from the sun, and the thick clouds from
the storms that rolled in from the south provided the rest of the protection.
Even now my race is dwindling, so I suppose you may not have heard of us. We
call ourselves the Shadow Walkers. Humans and other being fear us, and for good
reason. They fear the darkness, and we are simply an extension of it. We blend
in perfectly, with every aspect of our appearance being black, from the hair on
our heads to the nails on our toes. Even when we grow old and come close to
death, we simply fade. Without the darkness, we become weak and lose years off
our lives. When those years are up, a Shadow Walker will find a spot in
complete darkness, and stop existing. I can imagine it would be hard for a
human to understand, and what they cannot comprehend, they fear. So they lit of
their cities. They brought in powerful mages to keep the lanterns burning, all
day and all night, and worked people to death in the coal mines to provide fuel
for thousands of fires. They even tried to cover up their fear with mockery by
giving us the name Darklings. We were driven out of the great cities, where we
used to have a haven in the dark alleys and basements of homes.
Out in the
open we were vulnerable, and eventually we scattered off into groups to protect
our race. Some went to the great forests in the East, and it’s said they joined
with the ancient spirits of the trees. Others went south to the storm islands,
but they soon died of starvation from lack of cultivated land. A few even
ventured north to the great ice sheets, but no one has heard from them in
centuries. My people went West, their spirits uplifted by the mountains that
provided a natural barrier to human settlement.
They lived
peacefully for two centuries, and a new generation came along to bolster our
population. I had only turned one hundred and sixty three when the first human
came. I and the other children found him very amusing. He brought with him
mages and knights and beautiful ladies. They seemed interested in us too, but
our elders refused to let our races mingle. They told us the stories of the
horrors that humans had put us through, and gradually the children lost
interest in the human. He never forgot about us though.
He lived
away from us, in a large house hastily built into the side of the mountain to
the East. From our town we could see the smoke from multiple fireplaces curling
upward to meet the low hanging clouds. One time the smoke had been so thick and
black it could only mean that the house was on fire. When the human’s men came
to ask for assistance, all we could do was point them toward the lake we got
our fish from. The children, who had never been exposed to fire, were curious
to see what it looked like. Those that were not being carefully watched by
their parents were able to sneak off. They came staggering back the next
morning, their skin so translucent that even we almost mistook them for
shadows. There were great patches of their skin that remained solid and dark
though, and upon closer inspection, it was decided they were burns, something
the elders had only seen on humans. It didn’t take long for the children to
curl up in a corner of their home and vanish into the shadows. It was the first
time in our community that a Shadow Walker had died from a human wound.
((And as usual, I claim copyright. Even if you wanted to steal this, you don't have the rest of the story...
It would also be great if I could get peoples' opinions. I don't like the title, so any suggestions for that would be great.))
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