Fighting the Shadow
It reaches from the depths of space—creeping, feeling, groping for purchase. Like a poisonous vine, like a venomous serpent, it trawls the cosmic waters in search of prey.
Until today, my people were out of reach. Until today, the Builders protected us. Until today, all was well with our world.
Until today.
When the walls came down, when our once-protected corner of the universe became contaminated by the darkness from the outside, panic reigned.
How could such a thing have happened, and why?
We sent our strongest warriors to petition the Builders for help mending the breach. But once they passed beyond our borders, they were never seen again.
Now, I’m the only one of our people left, the sole surviving remnant of a once proud and sprawling civilization. Such tragedy. I cannot bear it.
My loved ones are dead.
My world is consumed.
Despair has taken root in the chaos that was once an able mind, and I can feel the Shadow’s tendrils reaching inside me, eager to consume the last remaining crumb.
I cannot let it win.
No! I won’t let you have me!
Oh, no? comes its reply.
A war ensues, a battle that rages on as the universe tilts and tumbles, as time processes through uncountable eons and epochs.
I am broken—easy prey, it must have thought on the eve of battle—and am always on the brink of annihilation. I am saved from tumbling off sanity’s bottomless ledge by sheer willpower alone.
I am almost spent, and I can feel the Shadow’s laugh as it prepares to swallow my shattered soul and end our ageless struggle for good. But I hold because I know something the Shadow does not.
The Builders are coming.
I can see them on the horizon, a resplendent light that rekindles my weary heart with hope. The Shadow cannot see them. Its focus is on me, and all I have to do is keep it occupied long enough for them to arrive.
So I hold.
And I hold.
And I hold.
My redemption is at hand if only I can stand long enough to survive.
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