For a long moment, I held the book without opening it. The leather felt colder than the air around me and the forest pressed tighter the longer I waited, like it too was tense with anticipation. What could be in this book? Why is it so important? I trace the spine with my finger before opening it, a faint hiss escapes between the pages like a breath held for centuries waiting for this moment.
The book's contents were empty, not blank, but empty in a way that suggested something had been scraped out of existence. My fingers skim across the parchment, the paper shivers before ink appears in the centre of the page swirling like a storm reacting to my touch, I can't take my eyes away from the swirling ink, I blink. The world tips backwards as I seem to fall onto my back.
The forest folds in on itself, the ruins crumble and get pulled in towards the book, the moss by my feet blur and vanish as I roll sideways. My feet are dragged in, followed by the rest of my body as I fade into darkness.
I land, standing in a room lit by blue flamed candles, braziers flickering along the edges, casting long shadows across pillars that were rough and unpolished. The air hummed faintly in the air as people moved through the room to the large circle stone table in the middle.
None of them can see me, am I in a memory or having a vision? I step closer and notice their clothing looks like a shadow wrapped in fabric, deep blues and blacks all stitched with faint glimmers. Their faces were pale and wrung out, exhaustion, anger and panic settled into their words as they spoke. Some of them were angry, some scared but they were all tense.
Hands slam onto the centre table as a man, tall and broad with long braided hair with a colour that could absorb the sun. His eyes were an angry shade of blue, like the sea during a storm. Then he speaks, voice low but absolute. ''We cannot keep running, our people are meeting their fate far too early. We must stand as one. We will have no future if we have no home. A place to fight for.''
''We are not soldiers, if we strike back against the fragments they will send those masked warriors again. I will risk no more to fight, I have no wife or son to fight for, they are gone. They will not hesitate to separate us from our loved ones again.'' Says an older gentleman, grey and wrinkled.
A ripple of grief spreads through the room, there must be over fifty adults here, deciding the fate of themselves and their loved ones. The circular room is heavy with loss, anger and sorrow. The masked warriors he mentioned, the one from the dream? The first paladins?
The people before me were the ones the cradle branded as Lighteaters, they are… human. Too human compared to their description. There are mothers, fathers, sisters, husbands here. All bonded with the loss of their kin. I move closer, shadows brush past me with no resistance. I stand by the brazier closest to the centre table. Its light shining through me like I wasn't there.
''Revenge will only prove their stories right.'' Another man says sharply ''They claim we twist the light and the dark to devour, that our gifts drain the Cradle's happiness. We show restraint, we hide yet they still hunt us.''
A woman answers the man, her hair raven, an age similar to my own. ''Our gifts are not twisted. They are natural, they are balance and protection. The Fragmented make categories and names of their gifts, believing that to sin is to be holy. It is a perversion of the perfect whole. The eclipse.''
The fragmented? The Eclipse? What are they talking about? The seven sacred sins are… fragments, of one single power. The Eclipse. I don't understand. My head feels heavy, my mind at war with itself trying to piece together the information my ears are receiving. Are we being lied to?
The air suddenly shifts, all eyes in the room snap to the door to the right as it opens. Two figures enter. Walking side by side, hands embraced and determination on their faces. A man, a tall man who only looks a little older than myself and the person next to him. The woman from my dream. Her eyes are just. Like. Mine.
The tall man's presence pulls the whole room closer, the whole room ready in anticipation of what words are about to leave his mouth, he must be important. The whole room stills while looking upon him like a child would their father.
The woman has her hands around his, light pours through her fingertips and wraps around the man's own hand, his shadows dancing with her light. The light and the dark meet, balanced and joined.
The room is hushed, still observing and awaiting words. ''I know you all grow nervous, as do we. The fragmented of the Cradle chase us, they grow closer each day and there is nothing we can do to stop them. Our power is not one of domination, or destruction. We are healers, we are protectors and we are family.'' The young woman says with reverence.
Another shout of disapproval sounds in the room. ''We must leave this place, this forest is no longer safe. Even if we have poured our power into it so people get lost. They will not stop until the Eclipse is erased.''
Eclipse.
The word stirs something deep within me, a name carried like a bruise. A group bound by light and darkness. Neither one or the other, controlling both in a way that makes the air shiver.
''We are strong enough, YOU are strong enough. The world is changing and it seems like we are best changing with it. Our gifts can suppress their inferior versions. Remember the story, the start of this purge of the Eclipse. The leader of this clan long ago. Removed the gifts of the first fragmented. The strain was too much, but it is possible!'' The man who must be the leader speaks.
The woman from my dream stands forward. ''We have Volas, he can protect. It is his job to protect and now we, me and Taell have another reason to survive, our hope. Our Fàolán''
''We will endure, we stay quiet and we stay hidden. We. Do. Not. Break.'' She finishes.
Fàolán? Is that a name? The name of this place? My head turns to the woman and Taell, her hand brushes his chest with such care, her light and darkness now swirling interacting with him. Their heads meet and they share a kiss, the kind of kiss before a battle, unknowing if they will see each other again. My cheeks are wet with tears, tears I didn't feel fall. Who is this woman and what is this place? The purge apparently ended over 500 years ago, these people are long dead and forgotten. But why are they so familiar?
I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing and wipe my eyes, my robe now damp with tears. When I open my eyes, I'm in the forest. The room is now rubble, I stand in the same spot I witnessed this history, I feel like if I listen hard enough I will be able to hear her voice once more.
Fàolán, the word races around my head and leaves me stumped. It feels like a secret, one that has been locked up too long and has forgotten its purpose.
The clearing and ruins I now stand in feel colder, like the life returned briefly and vanished once again. I feel it all. Death and misery. A people just trying to survive and what did they get for it? Decimation.
Somewhere in the forest, twigs snap and the movements of the trees halt. The forest is listening, and I've just heard something that was never meant to be known. The seven sacred sins are built on a lie, the eighth, or The Eclipse were never Lighteaters, they were not monsters. They were victims, hunted and killed by the fragmented, the Lightscarred. A pit opens in my stomach. A feeling that never appears to me. Anger. An anger that could crack the whole Cradle