Burning Bright

There are things that move within the Darkness. 

Whether those things are alive is a mystery, of course–the rumor only speaks of the never-ending Hunger of such things. Always shifting, always moving. The Darkness was always present, always aware…and always drawing closer. The Darkness was only ever kept away by the presence of the Fire.

The Fire began as a source of warmth; a night-time balm against the cold. It began as a source of Light, in a way–but had never been meant to keep the Darkness at bay…at least, not on its own. The Darkness had been kept away by the sheer joy and celebration of those who lived in her tiny village, the nightly song and dance and celebration filling the whole of the village with joy and Light. Yet one by one, the villagers vanished, swallowed whole by the encroaching Darkness…and with them the Light.

Now only the Fire remained, and the girl who tended it.

It was particularly cold this night, with the sort of biting wind that crept through even the thickest fur coat. The Fire flickered, the warm red glow heating her chilled fingers as she held them out towards the flame. It was not fueled by wood–such methods had long since grown impossible with the ever-closer Darkness. No…the Fire was fueled by her hope. Her dreams. Her wishes. 

She hummed to herself one of the many songs she’d heard while growing up; a song of blue skies and endless fields full of flowers and other growing things. A song of starry skies with the silver orb of the moon hanging like a jewel in the rich purple velvet of the night. Her humming became a song, and for a time the Fire grew brighter.  

She needed to keep the Fire going only a little while longer…and then day would come and she could rest until night fell once more and the Darkness would draw close once again.

A soft hiss joined her singing, and her voice faltered. The Fire flickered; sputtered–and nearly went out. Fear tugged at her heart, the flickering light of the Fire the only source of warmth and light. She could hear the things in the Darkness drawing closer. Claws dragged against icy earth. Tongues rolled against sharp teeth. Her heart hammered against her ribs, keeping pace with the flickering of the Fire that was her only salvation.

The Darkness crept closer, inching toward her with every breath she took.

She could see nothing in the Darkness, but her imagination filled the endless nothing with all sorts of things. Sharp teeth and sharper claws. Scales and fur and venom–

She shook herself, squeezing her eyes shut. No…the Fire had to keep burning. Had to keep her warm and safe. Had to keep her alive.

They needed one another.

And so she sang. She held her hands out to the waning fire and sang. Her voice filled the Darkness with songs of hope, songs of memories that were not hers, songs of love and loss, songs of dreams she wished were hers…and as she sang, the Fire grew brighter. The Fire grew warmer. 

Inch by painful inch, the Darkness withdrew, pushed back by the light of her Fire and the song she sang, until her voice broke and the singing faltered. The Fire flickered again, faltering as the fear crept into her heart once again. Would she make it to dawn? She was alone, and the Dark was endless, drawing ever closer.

Yet she had to hope. Had to believe her presence and the Fire was enough. It had to be enough.

She couldn’t sing any more, her throat raw and sore. She couldn’t even speak. Her hands trembled as she held them out to the Fire, her eyes wide as she watched the flame dance and flicker in the biting wind that tugged at coat and hair, stinging her eyes and burning her cheeks. She couldn’t sing..but she could still pray.

She didn’t close her eyes, that would have been too much for her. Instead she clasped her hands before the flickering light of the Fire, and thought of all the words she would give to the Fire to keep it burning. Words her grandmother had given to her, the first night she’d tended the flame.

Fire, burning warm and bright…

In Your keeping, we stay in Light.

It was a simple phrase, a plea carried across hundreds and thousands of nights, spoken by voices that were not just hers, but had belonged to voices that had come and gone. Voices that had lived lives, had dreams and hopes of their own.

Even in the darkest night, she was not alone. She carried not only her own dreams, but theirs as well.

She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the Fire on her hands and her cheeks. With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see the Darkness creeping closer. Her voice was a soft rasping whisper as she spoke the words aloud once more.

Fire, burning warm and bright…

In Your keeping, we stay in Light.

A pair of warm hands covered her own, a warm body settled against her back, the presence comforting and full of the feeling of safety. She didn’t open her eyes. It might dispel the magic, she knew. But she whispered the words again, and heard them echoed by the stranger who had joined her–and the Fire grew brighter still.

She could feel the warmth of the flames brushing against her fingertips; not quite burning her, but filling the air with heat. She could see the glow of the fire even beyond the darkness granted by closing her eyes against the cold, biting wind.

She could hear the voice of the stranger joining in her own whispered plea to the Fire- and the Darkness was pushed back just a little bit more.

She knew it wouldn’t be long, now. The dawn would come, and she’d be able to rest. Soon, she knew the night would end…and she’d open her eyes to see the Fire’s embers glowing contentedly in the early morning light. She’d see the hands that covered her own, and be able to embrace the stranger. They’d weathered the night together, after all. 

She didn’t think to question where the stranger had come from. It didn’t matter.

Fire, burning warm and bright…

In Your keeping, we stay in Light.

She whispered the words, again and again-until her voice faltered and gave out–and the words were taken up by the stranger. His voice was warm and soft, a gentle presence to her tired and winter-worn self.

The Fire grew brighter, the flames flickering until they went out.

She opened her eyes and saw nothing. Only Darkness. 

Fear threatened to claw its way into her chest, and out of her throat in a wordless, soundless scream–but the stranger tightened his hold on her, his hands squeezing hers.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, his presence a warm comfort in the dark. “All things come to an end.”