Character One :
Menadue

A dark-haired youth sat himself atop a familiar hill, noting that the grass was growing cold from the lack of heat in the night. Silence surrounded him as he shut his eyes, for once enjoying his peace of mind. So much had been happening within the continent he called home lately, though he hadn’t the slightest reason why, so it was good to find peace eventually.

The familiar silk cloak he wore, however tarnished and fringed, still managed to be converting its own dark color with the night sky’s itself. Not noting of this, however, caused he himself to be fairly unwary of that surrounding he himself, but of the distance.

He had always thought of the distance, what lies ahead of him, before he himself. He had pondered on this for quite a while once, however he never seemed to come up with an even pathetic excuse of why. Perhaps it was simply his own source of nature?

He snapped his fingers absentmindedly, causing a small fire to seek itself atop the fingertip, and he opened his auburn eyes narrowly to see the small flame. Perhaps it was his nature, for his kind was seemingly not trustworthy towards others. Perhaps that was how he got his nickname, “The Shadowed Light,” by the villagers surrounding this plain of blandliness.

He himself never understood himself, either, but he supposed that was the way it was meant to be. After all, he was Menadue; Shroud of the Light, Seeker of Darkness, the Shadowed Light, Defender of the Damned… He had too many abused nicknames, for there were many more then simply that, and he knew all too well of it.

A sudden memory of nicknames came to the teenager, causing him to shudder in shock at the sudden behavior his mind was currently in. Hadn’t Lord Keir, his master and lord who he idolized for unknown reasoning, sealed away all of his childhood memories? Apparently, those memories wanted freedom…

“Deirdre! Deirdre, come here for a moment! I think I found something!” called a young Menadue, whose eyes beamed with suspicion and happiness alike. A girl around the young Menadue’s age glanced towards the boy, who in turn smirked.

“Hm? What did you find? There doesn’t seem to be anything here…” The girl glanced quizzically at the ground before him, and he simply grasped her waist and pulled her closer to his chest, causing her to gasp lightly.

“I found you; doesn’t that count for something, Deirdre?” Menadue smirked as she seemed to huddle in closer, blushing as she did so, and he held her directly at his heart. “Well? Does it or doesn’t it?”

“You’re such a tease, Menadue… But you know that, right?” Deirdre told him, whisking her right hand upwards to play with his midnight black locks. He smiled genuinely, sitting himself down without harming the girl in his arms.

“Hey, don’t call me names, Deirdre.” Menadue warned her, his mouth in the cranny of her neck and shoulders. “You know I hate it when you say those kinds of things…” The girl in his grasp giggled girlishly, twisting herself around to face him as she looped her arms around his neck.

“What? But I thought you liked being called a tease, Menadue!” Deirdre told the fire adept, who scowled at the girl’s actions. “And it isn’t as if I’m not the only girl you hang around with, you fiery and passionate player!”

“You’re the only one I do these things around, Deirdre. Don’t even kid about that…” Menadue told her as she relaxed in his chest, listening to his abrupt and steady heartbeat. “And you called me a name again! I thought I told you to stop that…” The girl in his arms giggled, kissing him on the cheek with a blush brushing onto both faces.

“But you know… There’s always some truth within the names, Menadue…”

The older Menadue looking in wondered where the memory had come from, though it only seemed to be a few years old within his mind, but had wondered also what exactly unlocked it. He sighed, playing with the small fire on his fingertips as his thoughts wandered towards the names the villagers from across the country had given him.

The Shroud of Light, The Seeker of Darkness, The Shadowed Light, The Defender of the Damned… was there some truth in those names? Had this Deirdre, who he supposibly felt dearly for in the past, been right about her musings?

He shook his head in an attempt to rid of his thoughts. How could he be so dull as to listen to the lonesome whims of a mere memory? How could he betray his Lord Keir by such a deed? Only the Dark Lord mattered to him, only Lord Keir…

Though, now he wondered why he left his happy childhood for this dark and angst-filled side of the system to begin with.