'You shall know your deliverer: a sign from the heavens shall mark the child, born into darkness and in the black, the child shall bleed for our
world as no tears can quench the thirst of Ava, but life.'

Lümcri jolted from sleep by a loud rapping on the wooden door that seemed as though it might split the timbers to nothing but shards. Opening her eyes only enough so that she could light the candle on her bedside table, Lüm crawled out of her cozy quilts and into the chill night air. She shuddered as her feet touched the icy floor, but she willed herself on for the sake of the poor night visitor. As she crept past her teacher and guardian, Tüm, an elderly man of great stature and renown, and down the ladder that reached up to their loft beds, her candle's flicker danced on the rough walls of the small cabin that they shared. The flame spilled a gentle glow on her porcelain skin and fine, angular features, framed by her long, mahogany hair. Her eyes alone the candle left untouched, as they burned with their own light of blue, a soft complement to her mossy appeal. On her temples there were markings, also blue: two circles, one on top of the other, followed by a cresent moon. She had never asked her teacher why they were there. She had always thought that perhaps there was no reason at all.

Lüm touched the cold door handle and almost recoiled. The door swung open to reveal a hooded figure shrouded in black. Nothing signified him or marked him. He obviously did not want to be identified, and so late at night, so deep in the forest, what could he want? This was no mistake of a lost merchant or musician. The man grabbed her wrist tightly, pulling her towards him.

"Come with me," he said, his words mist in the frosty air.

Lüm wrenched her hand out of his grip and whipped around, running to Tüm, her heart racing. Just as she reached the ladder and leaped up the first couple of rungs, a hand gripped her ankle and tore her back down. She made another futile attempt at climbing to her guardian, but the man held onto her. Lüm twisted and flailed as he tightly held her shoulders. She tired herself quickly, but seemed to not make a dent in the man.

"Who are you?" she finally demanded, the words coming with the sharp pain of frozen air that penetrated her chest as she took a deep breath.

"Come with me," he said, his voice softer now, more soothing.

"Come with you? I do not know who you are!" Lüm replied fiercely.

"I am here to protect you," the man answered. "Trust me. You must for your life." She froze. Her life? "We must get out of here now." Suddenly, there was a loud crash on the roof and the cabin shook. The man looked up to the ceiling, his eyes growing wide. "They are back. Hurry!"

There were more sounds reverberating down from the roof, what sounded like footsteps. He grabbed her hand again and pulled Lüm towards the door, his other hand around his brandished longsword's hilt, gripping it tightly. Lüm pulled her hand out of his and dashed back for the ladder. The man chased after her, grabbing her leg as she reached for the last rung.

"Now!" he said. "We must leave now!"

"But I must get Tüm," Lüm replied stubbornly.

"No!" shouted the man, but she managed to escape his grasp and sprinted to Tüm's bed. Lüm shook him violently.

"Wake up, Tüm! Wake up! We have to leave!" she yelled.

There was no response. Tüm's eyes stared back at her vacantly, blood dripping from the corners of his wrinkled mouth. Lüm dropped the corpse. She looked disbelievingly at the knife in his chest, at the pallid face that had so many times consoled her, taught her, loved her, the face that she had thought of as a father, her rock. Lüm sank beside the bed, her grip clasped around his clammy hands. She barely felt a hand on her shoulders as the cloaked man pulled her up from her knees and pushed her towards the window. He jumped down, the some two stories, landing lightly on the ground in a crouching position and then springing up nimbly. Lüm had never seen anything like it.

"Jump!" he yelled to her.

There was a crack on the roof and then a blood-freezing scream from the source of the movement above the cabin. Lüm looked back to Tüm and her mind seemed to snap back to her. The pendant. Tüm had always told her that if something happened to him, she should take the pendant. She raced back to the bed, ripping the chain from his neck. But then, even during the noise and commotion, she realized something: he had foreseen that something might happen to him. Why? You did not predict your own demise unless you had good reason. A million questions raced through Lüm's head. She looked to the window. Maybe the shrouded man could answer them, all of them.

Lüm closed her eyes and took a running leap. For a second, her stomach was in her throat, but then the man caught her and held her tightly against his chest, cradling her body against his. The man whistled, followed by silence, breathless silence. The soft melodic pound of hooves broke the chill night air. He quickly mounted the sleek black horse that had answered his call, pulling Lüm up in front of him and wrapping his arms around her tightly, grabbing the reins. The man yelled something unintelligible and the horse broke into a gallop, speeding them away from the night haunt and the cabin, speeding away from the only place that Lüm had ever known, racing away from Tüm into the night, the night that seemed to hold so much against her. She looked back over the man's shoulder, clasping the pendant and broken chain tightly in her palm, but he urged the horse on and faster relentlessly. After what seemed like hours, the man brought the horse to a trot, and loosened his grip on the reins, taking a deep cleansing breath of the frozen night air. The horse's heavy breathing made a stream of mist on the path ahead, a path that Lüm had never seen, and with every step, they were farther and farther away from her home. But they could not go back, not with the night haunt there.

"What was that?" Lüm asked the man softly, as though the forest on either side of them might hear. "I have never heard a creature wail like that."

"It was a Shadow," he answered.

"A Shadow?" she asked. "But they do not exist, only in children's tales and in dreams."

"Was that a dream?" the man replied evenly. "Maybe a nightmare, but that haunt is real, a true Shadow. You are only lucky that I came to you in time. Your not have the same luck. What is your name?"

"Lümcri," she answered.

"Ah, that is what the old man told you?" the man said, chuckling. Lüm studied him, or what she could see of him that was not hidden by the cloak. Told her? That was her name. It had always been her name.

"And what is yours?" she retorted almost as coldly as the night air that hung about them.

"Brahmacir," he answered, tossing back his hood. Lüm froze. She had not seen many other men in her life besides Tüm, but she had no doubt that this Brahmacir was the most gorgeous of them all. The celestial beams dappled his porcelain skin and strong, chiseled features, glimmering on his wavy, shoulder-length golden hair and lingering on his twinkling, youthful grey eyes. He smiled at her. "But you can call me Brahm."

"Thank you," Lüm stammered, trying to get the words out but failing miserably. Brahm laughed.

"It is alright," he said reassuringly. "All of my friends call me Brahm. Now tell me about yourself, Lümcri." She gathered her wits as much as she could.

"You may call me Lüm; that's what Tüm calls me," she answered, blushing at the fact that she had no friends, as Brahm claimed. "I .was Tüm's apprentice." Lüm looked down to hide the burning tears that were brimming in her eyes from Brahm.

"You can cry," he said, seemingly knowing without even seeing her sorrow. "You two were close, as I imagine that you did not get too much company so deep in this dreadful forest. Why they would pick such a place."

As he said it, Brahm looked into the surrounding woods, searching for something. Maybe he thought the Shadow was following them. With his consent, the tears began to make their hot trails down Lüm's face. Soon, she was sobbing. Brahm let go of the reins with one hand and held her against him comfortingly.

"It is alright. He must have meant a lot to you."

Lüm cried harder. He would never know how much Tüm had meant to her and it still had not dawned on her that he was gone, really gone, the man that had been a father to her, a brother, a best friend. Brahm held her tighter and tighter as she cried harder. Suddenly, a twig snapped in the forest. The horse froze, as did its two riders. Brahm let go of Lüm and pulled his sword from its sheath on his waist, brandishing it at the forest in the general direction the noise came from.

"I know you are there." he said cautiously, slowly, dragging it out as though he were hesitant to even speak to the unknown just within the protection of the trees. "Show cannot fool me; you cannot shade yourself from my eyes." As he said it, Brahm's gaze seemed to narrow on one group of trees. "You hurt this woman, did you not?" A cackle rang from the forest, a merciless laugh of pleasure. Lüm's heart raced. Brahm tightened his grip on his sword's hilt. There was a crack and then another, some feet away. The thing was running, right beside the path, the path we were traveling by. "It is going to get to town before us. Hold on. We have about an hour's ride." With that, Brahm urged his horse on and they sped down the night trail.

Brahm roused Lüm. When she looked up, she saw that the dirt path had faded into cobblestones, and she could make out lights down the trail, warm, inviting lights. It would be her first time in town. Brahm slowed the horse to a trot as the path widened and they emerged from under the dark forest canopy and into the shadows of the adorable brick houses and stone shops that lined the streets, pressed together in a cozy, enchanting way, leaning over the cobblestone road in an almost motherly, interested fashion. The comfortable earthy colours and beautiful golden glow of the windows made the heart delight to see them. Lüm was in awe. She had never seen anything like it in all her life. The melodic clip clop, clip clop of the horse's hooves and the pulsating motion of the ride combined with the soft radiance of the lights surrounding them almost put Lüm to sleep again.

"Only a bit further," said Brahm softly, but she was enjoying the ride now. The town enchanted her. Why had she never come before? Why had Tüm never brought her? Eventually, Brahm stopped his steed in front of an especially cozy-looking house. A candle burned cheerfully in an upper window. He jumped off and led the horse around the building and into a stable, offering his hand to Lüm. She took it and he tenderly helped her off the mount, putting the horse in a stall and refilling its oats bucket, brushing it down. Brahm silently closed the stall door and slipped out of the stable, Lüm following.

"What is the name of your horse?" she asked. Brahm smiled.

"Tyla," he answered. "It is a she."

"She is beautiful," Lüm said happily. "Pure black. I have never seen a creature so gorgeous." She smiled at her lie, as she walked next to a prettier creature indeed.

"Thank you," Brahm said. As he did, he swung open the back door of the house. "You shall have to stay with me for a while."

"I do not mind," Lüm replied.

"Nor do I," said Brahm smiling. "You shall be staying here. This town is Telil, in the kingdom of Lautom. I am the Captain of the Guard." Lüm stared at him amazedly. Brahm noticed, ushering her through the door and into a pleasant, warm room. "Yes, I understand you do not believe me. Many deem me far too young. But I assure, I am. You are safe here in my home, safer than anywhere else in all the city."

"Thank you for taking me in," Lüm said, "but I have many questions."

"And they shall all be answered by the Watcher," Brahm answered. "Tomorrow. But you must sleep now. Come." Lüm followed him through the house, past an inviting fire, and into a room with two beds. "I hope you do not mind. We shall have to share a room."

"I do not mind in the least. It was too much for you to take me in at all," Lüm replied. "I thank you again." Brahm smiled and motioned to a dresser, piled high with clothing.

"Those are for you," he said. "You shall be staying in the city, at the Watcher's royal house. But for now, you must sleep. I can see that you are tired. I must go tend the fire. Good night. Sleep peaceably."

With that, Brahm left the room. Lüm crawled gratefully into the bed nearest her, seeing that she was still wearing the filmy, creamy nightgown that she had donned what seemed ages ago. She pulled the covers up to her neck and curled up under the warm quilts. In a few minutes, Brahm returned, yawning and stretching. Lüm was still awake, but just barely. She watched sleepily, but quite delightedly as Brahm pulled off his boots, followed by his shirt, to reveal a slim porcelain chest with well-defined muscles and broad shoulders. Around his neck, hung an intricate silver vile of something she could not tell what.

He crossed the room noiselessly and knelt beside her bed. Lüm's heart raced with guilt, but she tried to breath evenly. Brahm tenderly brushed a tendril of loose hair back from her face, studying her features. With a deep breath, seemingly somewhat reluctant, he got up from his knees and walked back to the other bed, flopping down on it, stretching himself out. He put his hands behind his head and looked to the ceiling. Lüm gazed across the room to Brahm, wondering whether he was praying or simply thinking. How kind he was to her, how little of his care she deserved. Lüm closed her eyes. She had so many questions to be answered, but Brahm had assured her that they would all be answered the next day. Yes, the next day. Lüm soon fell into a deep and comfortable sleep.