Halloween. All Hallows' Eve. Samhain, for those who know its Emerald Isle origin. It is the day when the veil that separates the World of the Living and the World of the Dead falls to its weakest state. The spirits of those who have passed cherish this day as one of opportunity to return to the realm that they had spent their finite lives, whether their lives were lived in honour or in horror is of no matter now, only that they may return, for one dark night, home. This and the worship and appreciation of these passed spirits, was the immortal, often forgotten purpose of this day.
In 2003, however, this day is a vast celebration. It is not a celebration of the dead, but a celebration for its own sake. The children of the world are raised to be excited for this day as it is the day of the famed, practiced 'Trick-o-Treat', an idea of great, annual appreciation from these children. Though, perhaps for some, it is a day dreaded because of these exact eager children who, for once, have the nerve to push every doorbell in sight for the chance of winning some free treats. It is now also a common day for those who are in the pinnacle of their bored, living lives; the teenagers of Halloween across the world seek out this day to host a hoard of hideous parties.
And it is at one of these parties that our story begins.
This newer area of London was lavishly built in the 1970s in a fashion that had been described as before its time, fortunately that time was now fast approaching and almost upon us. It had been constructed as a way of both stretching out the capital's borders and of conveniently combining the necessary modernity of the urban city with the calm, naturalist rural elements that attracted those with money. It had been built only a few years ago, but it was rare that there was a house unfilled in this new, desirable neighbourhood. Even the cheapest of the houses here were designed by the particular tastes of a forgotten architect, hired by the city for this particular neighbourhood. The houses were all either painted white or left a bare, brick red, usually so that the house could be lent a 'homely' identity from the outside. Every corner and wall was rounded, so as not to give the sense of foreboding and the tiles that built the pavements was wonderfully smooth and of the light grey that may or may not be appreciated with chewed gum. The roads had to be the tarmac equivalent of silk, every bump in the road that was not specifically warranted would be a dock in the construction men's' pay. Thin Birch trees were parked at regular intervals down the centre of the road and were a regular feature on every street, coupled with the larger oaks that had existed in the area long before the majority had been chopped down to construct the neighbourhood. Everything had been made clean and pale, even the traffic lights seemed to shine more pink than red, but it was quite arguably a success.
However, tonight was the night that all pretty places turn to jungles of Horror Houses and fake cobwebs. The moment darkness had fallen across the streets, the terrifying plastic masks had been donned and the streets became alight with 4' tall superheroes and monsters from every macabre classic and each Disney movie ever made. The sighting of those from the age of 13 upwards though was seldom, as they had all congregated together to create a whirling hellhole of plastic cups filled with cheap alcohol being consumed by minors and majors alike and behaviour that toed the line between inappropriate and indecent was the flavour of the evening.
At one of these very festivities, at a house that had been borrowed from parents, Ryan sat in a fundamentally uncomfortable beanbag with a bored expression gracing his features. At a pale 5'6", he filled the furniture perfectly, but the lack of support is proposed was not to the same standards real chairs had bestowed upon him. His neck arched back smoothly and his black hair drooped gauchely into the dark, sweaty air. His eyes stared a wide and uninterested azure, just as the contact lens' packet had promised. The boy was dressed as an Angel this year, but he felt that it was not the most efficient attire he could've picked for tonight. The wings had appeared small and easy when he'd purchased them, but they'd proved him wrong when he entered the house and assaulted three people with fluff and glitter, the gown made it difficult to walk and standing made him feel like he was wearing a dress, which was not an amusing idea, and it knotted between his sneakers when he tried to walk – hence why he was now sitting in the only vacant seating option. He had also chosen to wear a curly, blonde wig that seemed more appropriate for a Cupid than an Angel of any kind, but that had been quickly wisped away no less than ten minutes since he arrived. That had been at 10:30, but it was now just breaking the bounds of midnight. A flash of amused regret crossed Ryan's mind as he thought how every Cinderella in the city was about to make her grand exit and he thought that if he'd done that he might have a real reason to get up and leave. Of course, nothing was stopping him leave now, except the greatest desire in the world to find his friend and drag her Sea Hag self home with him. At last, a reason to move made itself known from his bladder and he groaned with a lethargic disappointment. He appreciated the reason to move, just not the required destination. Still, Ryan forced himself into a standing position, taking the opportunity to crack his back and click his neck before picking up the hem of his gown to make his trip slightly easier.
As Ryan walked, he was forced to take notice of all his classmates as they participated in the pseudo-tradition of drunken festivities; as had become a great part of most globally celebrated happenings, drinking had become a set fixture in the celebration of Halloween. Even though it was stridently illegal for children of 16 to, not only be drinking, but also be drunk, this clearly wasn't a notion to bother with in the minds of these teenagers. During the 2 minutes it took for Ryan to get from the living room to the staircase, Ryan was faced with a near Herculean task of dodging hazardously fragile, flying objects, packs of hormone pumped teenagers rippling against each other to tasteless music and members of both sexes who were inebriated beyond any type of redemption and proving it to all those willing and capable to pay attention. Ryan also had to avoid the great mountains of boys shouting intoxicated curses and unprovoked slurs, which frankly made no sense, but all was accepted if the vibe did not suffer and clearly this vibe was dressed in the Armour of Achilles, for it gave no sense of any chance to weaken. Eventually, Ryan traversed enough mayhem and choreographed disaster to be able to step over a couple who had taken it upon themselves to occupy the bottom step of the staircase. Ryan kept his gown in his hand, but tugged more of it up as he scaled the stairs onto the second floor. This floor was filled with bedrooms in majority, all of which were occupied by couples who had made quicker process than the two on the staircase.
Ryan paid little heed to the empty hallway and headed straight for the ajar door whose lit light indicated that this was indeed the bathroom of which Ryan was in need. He quickened his pace to compensate for his whining faculties. He focused on the light and reached for the doorknob, quickly he walked into the room and was submerged in darkness. The sudden obscurity startled Ryan, he was certain that the bathroom light had been on, he could already the see the glare in the bathroom's wall tiles. Ryan thought the event strange and so he searched the wall with his hand to shed light on both the situation and the area, but when his fingers grazed the plaster of a different room, Ryan didn't know what to think. His breathing grew heavy quickly, so to calm himself he intended to walk back into the hallway. He turned around and he was greeted with a closed door, but the design of the door was older and made of a darker wood, whereas the door to the bathroom had been white and very modern. This door bore no resemblance for the one he was searching for. A sudden nostalgia of the movie 'Monsters Inc.' swept over Ryan, but he dismissed it with a shudder of urgency. Suddenly, Ryan was shocked to his core as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he became aware of where he was. The door before him was his own. It was the door to his bedroom. His bedroom that was about a mile away from the bathroom he was looking for. Fear and confusion gripped him as he threw his glances around the room he was scared to recognise. The carpet beneath his feet and the scent of his paint supplies scattered across his desk to the right and the empty bowl that had once contained oranges on his bed. He'd left the curtains open and now he was faced with the parallel grin of the man in the moon, whose light flowed down eerily through his window and onto his bed.
The voice was bold and icy, it filled the room with an Artic sensation and Ryan's eyes were frozen into a wide-open state as terror invested itself inside his bones. He hastily ran his whole body around to find the source of the voice. Behind, defying the mystic lunar glow that had settled across the rest of the room, a sudden shadow enwrapped the door Ryan had just passed through. He stumbled backwards as the shadow began to move, morph and solidify. The white lights of a blind wolf emerged first form the darkness, like fearsome headlights fast approaching. Ryan had fallen to the ground and had pressed himself against his bed for its unattainable support. The body continued to manifest itself slowly; limbs built from the darkness quickly began to emerge and feet gripped down onto the ground with motions that seemed to drag the rest of the body, as if it was having difficulty escaping the darkness, or perhaps the difficulty was in coming to the light. The body was not slow however, it moved within a dark grey mist that coiled around it like a trained viper. The body was large and built, but still it moved with a smooth, liquid grace as the pointed face emerged with an expression of silent determination in the task at hand. Ryan was quick to notice that darkness forged the man's attire as his body paled in the moonlight. His jacket was long enough to flow down from his shoulders to his calves and his shirt rolled tightly from his waist to a tight end under his jaw. As the final trails of his jacket was dragged out of the black lake that'd been made of Ryan door, the shadows were soaked up into the black outfit the man donned, until there was nothing left of it that had not been sewed into his clothing. The man stood tall and opened his eyes slowly, revealing that those white eyes had too tapped into the darkness, as both the iris and pupil were black as the depths from which he'd wrenched himself. Finally, he looked at Ryan, shivering against the sudden heat in the room that had erupted when the darkness had entered, and he smiled with a toothy grin. Ryan's eyes were wide and shaking in their sockets as he stuttered.
"Who are you?" His face was clearly trying to set itself into something akin to bravery, but the rest of his body betrayed the cause as the shivering continued or worsen. The man's smile widened.
"Relax, child. I am no danger." He spoke with less ice this time and his words were laced with sweetness, but Ryan felt sick from the words as they settled in his mind. "In fact, I am here to help you."
"With what?" The stutter lingered in the air.
"Why, with your powers, of course." His grinned stretched to a Cheshire style as he spoke. The smile was the most unnerving part of this display; the darkness was frightening and the arrival encased Ryan in uncertainty and worry, but that smile was a sign of definitive malice and a malignant soul. Ryan attempted to quickly feign ignorance, but the man shushed him with a cruel whisper. "I know, Ryan. I know you have the power to see."
"Well, it's quite common." Of course, if all else should fail him, Ryan always had a wealthy reserve of sarcasm. Not ingenious, resourcefulness or something useful, Ryan had sarcasm. Perfect. The man seemed to agree as he chuckled darkly with the vibrations in his throat resembling the screeching of bats combined with the heralding of coulrophobia. His face dropped into seriousness very quickly following his reaction and it seemed now still less frightening than his smile.
"Your power. The one where your eyes change colour and suddenly you can see anything you want to? If you want to see what's happening across the world, if you want to see the ghosts that haunt every building older than a decade or if you want to see what exact emotions people are feeling, all you have to do is think about it and you can see it all." Ryan's entire body was already tense, but now it was beginning to crush itself in fear. This man had come out of the shadow and simply announced everything that Ryan already knew about his darkest secret. The secret he'd never told anyone, not even Lilith, his best friend. The words had never left his lips and nobody should ever have guessed, but now this stranger had just described it exactly and he had described it better than Ryan knew how to. The man was smiling again as he saw his words resonate in Ryan's frightened little mind, he took the opportunity to relish in the fear the child was feeling before opening his mouth to continue. "Your power is known as the Divine Sight. You are the first to possess such a power since before Christ was born to the world, it is much the same as having the eyes of God, if for the small difference of what a Witch can do with it."
Again, Ryan's body and mind was captured by confusion and the man continued to relish in the vision as if it was what he fed on. A delicacy to be savoured before taking the second taste. Ryan's body stopped shaking for a moment as loss of place temporarily took place of fear.
"A what?" His voice was still shaky.
"A Witch." The man enunciated with flick of the tongue, like the word too had its own exquisite taste. Ryan opened his mouth to speak again, but the man looming above him, cheerily, silenced him. "I know what you're going to say. Your mortal upbringing has made you ignorant, but I assure that Witches can be male also. The definition of such a being is a person with the power to resonate with the world and tap into the Global Nexus, draw out its power by only the use of thought and spirit." He leant down closer and caressed Ryan's cheek with calloused hands. "A marvellous creation."
Ryan was tearing himself apart on the inside. He was not sure what to do with all the information he was suddenly being made to absorb. The knowledge about his power he'd already known for years, but this new information turning him in to a Witch was unsteady and there was no reason to believe it. The man terrified him, as would most people who built themselves out of shadows, but his words seemed to weigh true in his ears, despite very instinct inside him screaming to run away, he was already blocking the voices out and leaning towards the part of him that whispered 'Trust him.' Ryan would've flipped a coin if he'd had the opportunity, but there was only the option to just pick something.
Ryan chose to say 'Teach me.'
The man smiled smile filled with gleaming teeth and dark malice. He stretched out an open palm from a curved arm. Ryan looked at it and saw that it was shaking slightly. Was this man afraid of something? Of Ryan? Ryan looked up from the extended invitation and straight into the man's eyes; what he saw was not fear, it was excitement. His eyes were wide with a surge of anticipation and a terrifying glee. Ryan fought harder to block out the roaring voices telling him to get away as he took hold his hand. The man was also obscenely strong as he pulled Ryan from the ground to his feet with seemingly no effort to the point where Ryan was brought up into the air for a split second before reaching back down to the ground. When Ryan did touch back down to the ground, he was not greeted with his bedroom's carpet, his trainers slapped gracelessly down onto varnished wood. The sudden change startled Ryan again, but now not as much as it had before. Still, the sudden change startled his body and his knees gave slightly obliging him to squat quickly in front of the man. He laughed and it seemed lighter than before. The area was suddenly a significant amount smaller than Ryan's bedroom, the walls were painted white and the border between the wall and the floor was a light, tan wood that matched the wooden planks below. These planks were lined orderly and parallel to one another as they cascaded downwards as a flight of stairs into a corridor. The stairs intentionally led up to a landing and a door. The door was seemed to be older than all the other doors in the house, but it was also the least frequently used; the door led into the attic that had never been opened since Ryan was brought home. There were legends of thousands of lost articles sealed within the room, so many that both of Ryan's parents had once needed to go up there at least twice a week, but the night Ryan was born the door had locked itself from the world and it had remained that very state for 16 years. Ryan had never been inside.
"How do you keep doing that?" Ryan asked startled and the man laughed at his lack of balance before explaining.
"It's one of the powers that I possess." He explained with a grin. "It's a type of teleportation known as Jumping/Blinking. One minute you're in one place, you think about where you want to go and you're there."
Ryan did nothing, but nod at the explanation. The concept seemed simple enough, but his mind naturally tried questioning the mechanics of it. He did his best not to think to much on the subject as it only wound up in a headache. Instead he asked a question that might have a simpler answer. "Why are we here?" Ryan asked. The shake in his voice had subsided and standing he noticed that this man wasn't nearly as looming as he had been. In fact, Ryan was only an inch or two shorter. He turned towards the boy as he spoke.
"Because we need to get inside." He explained obviously.
"It's locked." Was Ryan's simple response. The response was apparently comical as well for the man couldn't keep from chortling at the notion. The laughter subsided quickly and he was allowed to respond.
"Come now, Ryan," the man sounded like he'd expected more of Ryan than that. "Even mortals know: You can get into any room you want, provided your willing to try."
The man's hand hovered parallel to Ryan's chest, indicating for him to stand back. Ryan did and nearly fell down the stairs for lack of attention paid to where he was going. The man didn't seem to notice as his eyes locked onto the doorknob. He shuffled his shoulders around under his skin, the sound of clicking was clearly heard, and he took a significant inhale. The man jerked forward suddenly like he was going to hurl, but instead there came an eruption of high-pitched sound flaring out form his mouth in visible, circular shockwaves. These shockwaves exploded from the man's orifice and mercilessly struck into the doorknob, the bronze metal ruptured and seemed to bend under the noise until the entire thing eventually exploded itself, tearing a severe chunk out of the door's wood and sent splinters flying in every direction. With no physical reason to stay in place, the door squeaked and creaked open for the first time since 1987. And the door's opening revealed an area of complete and solid blackness, a totally opaque darkness saturated the space like water did to a sponge.
The man was quick to gesture Ryan inside and he followed silently. Upon his first step through the threshold, Ryan found himself nearly choking on the hazardous amount of dust that seemed to have collected from a decade and a half of idleness, he was doubled over and gasping for clear air. Ryan threw himself back over the threshold and coughed up a storm as he drank in the clear air to which he'd become so accustomed. There was a dark chuckle of sadistic amusement from above him, Ryan looked up and glared at the man weakly, he attempted to stop laughing, but couldn't quite desist entirely. Through his stifled chuckles, the man reached into his pocket and produced a black handkerchief and instructed Ryan to try and use that for the sake of young lungs. Ryan eyed the handkerchief for a moment; it was of plain, black material and carried no scent, but he was given no reason to mistrust it for the moment and so he took it in his grasp. Ryan re-erected himself and clasped the patch over his mouth and nose and breathed in the air, which now tasted of something sweet and spicy and alluring and dark, but he was pleased that it didn't smell of dust. Again, Ryan entered the attic and was surrounded by the loch of dust particles as they attempted again to drown him, though now he found he was able to swim. He moved further into the room and soon the darkness caught up with the dustiness.
"Child," the man spoke behind him and as Ryan turned around and recognised, it occurred to him that he'd never heard the man's name. "You must use your eyes if you wish to see." He sounded patronising, but it was true that Ryan had yet to use the gift he was assured he knew how to use. Turning back into the room, Ryan closed his eyes to the black, sooty world around him. He smiled as he felt his eyes relax, his retinas were expanding and preparing to absorb more and more than light. There was a sensation of the faintest euphoria coursing around his head and his body relaxed into itself. Finally, Ryan's eyelids rose upwards and revealed the 'Eyes of God'. The change was not spectacular, but it was impossible to miss; his eyes had been granted a negative effect and it made him appear like an aggravated Husky and just as frightening, his sclera were dark, they were not black in the same sense as the room was black for sheer lack of light, his eyes were darker than the void of space and it radiated; the darkness seemed to leak out of his sockets like a black light. His irises were equally frightening; they had turned from the kind, soft darkness Ryan usually wore into an emblazed shine of the purest light, the whites were bright and they shone like a silent scream, but they were focused and they would be clear through the thickest fogs like a beacon of power. Ryan's pupils remained as they were, but they gave the image of Ryan's eyes being a target, but also the sense that it was him who would hit his mark.
From Ryan's perspective, the room was as it should be; the darkness of the attic had been obliterated, but not by any light. Ryan could see the entire room without either glare or shadow, as it seemed both had been absorbed into his own eyes as an exchange. The area was wide, but clustered with everything shoved to the side in order to make room for the mess the cluttered the centres of the room. The back wall was lined with a 4' bookshelf and there was little space that wasn't occupied by an older, rotting article or document, even the mantles of the furniture was lined with reads, half of which were poorly bound and wide open. There were several pieces of other furniture scattered around the room, armchairs were cast to corners and laden with more books, a rocking chair was settled in the middle of the room with the creepiest baby doll known to man sitting quite comfortably, her right eye apparently having popped out in raw frustration with whomever had finally opened the door and disturbed her piece. An old, tattered couch with floral prints from decades ago lounged under the single, large window whose drawn curtains allowed no light to filter through. Finally, to the Ryan's left was a podium that could've been the grandfather of the one from which Ryan's headmaster gives his speeches and on top of that was a large, leather bound book that was thick with yellowing parchment. This book was most likely older than every other book in the room combined and it Ryan's eyes caught an alluring, multi-coloured aura emanating from cover to cover. Ryan felt drawn to the Book more than anything else he could ever think of being attracted to. Ryan was not the only one.
"There." The voice whispered, Ryan noticed the change that flowed along his words now. The words were filled with desire and excitement, with shudders of poorly maintained patience and craving anticipation. "That one. That book."
Ryan glanced over his shoulder and noticed his face was wide and grinning like a child's when presented with their Christmas presents for that year. Ryan turned his gaze forward and held his eyes over the Book, he began to walk towards it but was startled when the man suddenly ran past him and moved to touch it. He hesitated and held his hands over the tome, his fingers were shaking and his expression was fall of disbelief. He seemed to question the Book's authenticity for a moment before reassuring himself that it was the true tome. Ryan approached slower, wary of this new attitude that the man had adopted. Ryan had made a note to himself to keep one eye on each of them.
"What is it?" Ryan asked, keeping both of them in his so-called 'Divine Sight'. The man turned towards him for only a moment before turning it back, seemingly thinking that he'd almost lost the thing he coveted.
"Your birth right." Came the hushed response, but the man was too dazed by his discovery to care about who heard what he said. "The Legendary Blue Book of Shadows."
Ryan focused down at the book. It was indeed bound in blue leather, but there seemed very little about it that should be considered 'Legendary'. He deduced that it should be what was written inside that would deem it as such. Ryan did not bother to move his hands towards the Book as he watched the man stretch his shaky palms towards the Book's cracked cover. His face expanded in glee with every centimetre that had digits traversed that drew the two of them closer together. Finally, the man's fingers shot around the sides of the Book and gripped around the edges of the Book and Ryan watched with shocked eyes as the silent, sapphire explosion burst from where the man and the Book connected. Ryan's head swung around to watch him fly backwards through the air and Ryan stared incredulously as his body flowed seamlessly through the adjacent wall of brick and wood. Ryan had no sooner witnessed the man pass through solid matter like a ghost than he heard the flutter of three-dozen butterflies just past his head. He swung his head back around and recognised that the sound was not butterflies, but the sound of the Book's pages turning on their own. The pages fly around the binding for long minutes and Ryan was sure that there weren't that many pages between the covers when the man had tried to touch the them, as if they pages were flowing out the podium on which the Book lay. Finally, the pages stopped on a double page. One page seemed to have short poem written in a gorgeous, ancient calligraphy. On the other page there was sealed envelope in which Ryan guessed was a letter for someone. The clue as for whom this letter was written in a different, but still beautiful handwriting on the top of the letter, it read Ryan.
Ryan felt obliged to take it in his hand and so he snatched it upwards, giving his best effort to not touch the Book's pages. An expected reaction considering what had just happened. When he picked up the letter, he was certain he had accidently grazed the parchment of the Book and he squealed, but when nothing happened Ryan took it as a lucky trail and did not think it wise to test it. He stared at the Book for a moment more as he blindly tore open the letter, but once the letter was opened his eyes were scanning the paper eagerly and in panic.
My Sweet Child,
I'm sorry I could not tell you this myself, but this is what was meant to be. If I'm correct, you've been lead to this Book by a man named Calumn. He may have led you to believe that he is a Witch, like you, but he's not. He's a Demon and a dangerous one. His powers of Blinking and Sonokinesis will be what identify him, as I have no idea what form he may be using when he contacts you. I'll explain more in due course, but for now you must use the Blue Vanquish Spell to defeat him.
I love you,
'Mummy?' Ryan's first thought was confused, but then the truth cleared itself in his mind, his eyes widened and his grip on the paper tightened fiercely. 'My mother?'
From the centre of the room there was sudden presence and Ryan's all-seeing eyes immediately did their job of taking notice. He snapped his head upwards to look at the man he could now identify as Calumn. Calumn looked a lot rougher for his contact with the Book, but the biggest change was his expression from glee to grizzly bear. He looked up at Ryan through angry eyes and a snarl. Then, a look of surprise crossed his features and Ryan noticed that Calumn had taken notice of the letter was Ryan was holding. The surprise turned to recognition and then it returned to rage, now intensified. Calumn immediately began to charge forward from the centre of the room towards the Book. First he was running and Ryan didn't know what to do and resorted to simply standing there helpless and scared, but it was when Calumn blinked again that Ryan realised his idleness had made him a dead man. Ryan was still stunned when Calumn reappeared over as hovering over the Book, but it was simply Ryan's mind slowing down the entire scene, his reactions included. Ryan watched as Calumn slowly descended downwards and he occurred to Ryan that Calumn's chest was heaving. Did he have another one of those shockwaves saved up for him? Then, this was where it ended. Then, just as Ryan ha given up faith, he noticed that there was a faster movement than either of them; the page of the Book that had housed his mother's letter had flicked itself to life and was now lazily suspended in the air, but it seemed to be falling down in the exact place it needed to fall for it to intercept Calumn's black shoes. The edge of the paper barely collided with the tip of Calumn's black shoes, but the reaction was just as explosive as before and the Demon was sent hurtling backwards across the room over to one of the bookcases. He did not fly through this time, instead he caught himself on the mantle of the bookshelf and hoisted himself back down to the wooden planks. Now, Ryan knew he had to do something. He took his mother's advice and tried to find the 'Blue Vanquish Spell', but he didn't need to look far for of course it was the page next to the letter his mother had written. Ryan's hands were slammed down on the podium's desk, one hand on either side of the Book whilst he recited the words.
"By the Powers invested in mine spirit by the Darkest of Lights,
I curse the one who dares to cause mine Plight!
From one Time until Time is again and the origin of Place,
Be removed from this Reality without a Trace!
The words tasted old and were clumsy as Ryan recited them, but he spoke with conviction and with solid heart. His eyes had remained on the words before him the entire time and the result he desired was unknown to him, but by the tile and the passage Ryan deducted that this was a spell to destroy something or someone. Ryan slowly wrenched his head upwards from the Book so he could look upon the Demon now, but he looked up to see nothing living cross his Divine Sight. There was only one movement in the room besides the routine rise and fall of Ryan's own chest and his eyes followed it mercilessly. In the centre of the room, where Calumn was just before Ryan had thrown his head down to cast the spell, there was single spiralling ribbon forged from the midnight sky; one side was black, but as the ribbon spiralled upwards into the attic's ceiling it ceremonially revealed a side of dark blue, like the combination Ryan always used to paint a midnight sky. He watched the strand coil itself into the air and he stared at the ceiling long after it had finally disappeared from sight. With the relief of the Vanquish washing over him, Ryan relaxed his shoulders and released a sigh that he simply couldn't believe he'd held for such a long time.
His heart leapt from his chest into mouth and the shock of it nearly made Ryan squeal like a frightened pig, but the second call of his name allowed Ryan the opportunity to recognise his father's voice. He responded in confirmation and Joseph Grahams quietly came through the attic threshold in his old-fashioned stripped pyjamas and slippers. His hair was a mess and is thing lasses sat awkwardly on his face. Ryan's eyes returned to normal before his father could see him and his father spoke to him in a cracked, tired voice that was to be expected of someone who'd been awoken at 3 in the morning by the sound of crashing in the abandoned attic of their home. Ryan lied through his teeth that he'd come back from the party and suddenly had the urge to get the door open, but when he'd succeeded he'd accidentally knocked over a stack of books. Joseph simply listened and nodded his head. He commended his son on his achievement, but also explained that now was the time for sleep, a notion Ryan was only happy to agree with.
So, at 3:15 that morning, Ryan tiredly floated down the stairs from the attic in his Angelic gown, gone to his room, changed and gotten into bed. Safe in the knowledge that Halloween was over, but "Ryan relaxed as best as he could and, within minutes, he succumbed to exhaustion and fell into the deepest of slumbers.
It was about 5 in the morning when the sky had lost all of its black and was the famous blue was recovering the landscape where space's portrait had hung. The blue was still dark and the pinks of first light were hidden beyond the horizon. Ryan slept quietly and dreamlessly, tucked tight under his duvet. Halloween may have been considered over a few hours ago, but the spirits of the Buried Realm knew that it was not day until the Sun declared so, as far as the last trailing spirits were concerned, neither All Hallows' Eve nor Samhain were over quite yet.
A woman dressed in the finest silk stood was bent down on her knees with her left cheek upon her arm that rested on Ryan's bed. She faced him and smiled at his peaceful face. She sought to stroke his hair or caress his face, but she had no means of doing so. Not anymore. Her head rocked upwards to the sound of silent bells ringing in the distance. She sighed and held her head straight. She smiled down at Ryan and laid a weightless kiss on his temple before she rose up to standing.
"You did well, Ryan." She smiled down at him with diamond tears in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly and composed herself. "I'll always love you, my darling, but you need to be strong."
The Sun's light revealed itself over the highest structures in Ryan's horizon. She turned around to see the end of her time in the Living Realm come to a close for another time, the process had always been hard, harder now that she was leaving behind such a dangerous path. The sunlight burst through the open window and struck through her body painlessly. She was unconcerned with the way her body disappeared when the light pierced her flesh; she had long ago accepted it. As the light continued to pour in, there was no place left for her to hide from the light, and so she disappeared. Samhain come to another end.