The moon stared down,

Down at his face,

Mirrored by a lake of silver.

“Shaytaya come to me. Niyah tah orra shiyem.”

Nothing,

The lake still as glass,

Replied not.

“Shaytaya, niyah tah orra shiyem.”

Again he called out,

Shattering the stillness.

The Lake of Silver rippled,

Slowly,

Reluctantly,

A mass, formless yet solid rose from the waters.

Moonbeams shown,

Forming a ladder to the night sky.

A path created by the moon himself.

The waters rose,

With each ascending inch,

Another drop of water was shed.

Slowly the form took shape,

The shape of a woman,

Dressed only in the moon’s light.

Up she went unto the moon,

Nine days she stayed,

In his majestic company.

Nine days after rising to him,

She fell,

Plummeted back to the Earth,

Back into the arms of her lake.

There in her lake she stayed,

There she grew strong,

For seven months.

From the waters she rose,

In that seventh month.

Into the forests she ran.

And there,

In the forest Black,

Aided by wood sprites alone,

She birthed three beings.

The first,

Skin pale as her father’s face,

With hair of snow.

Her second,

A boy,

Silver as his mother,

With a voice the Kyre would die for.

The last,

A letdown,

Was darker than the night sky,

Was shadow not man.

The eldest to her father she ran,

To rule the stars.

The second,

To his mother’s home to be lord over her.

The final of her children,

To shadow he came,

To become one with it.

It was in this way,

That the guardians became tangible.

It was in this fashion that the first Shadow Knight was born.