Once there was a time Fear had vanished from the world.

One new brave generation grew up without ever being scared. There was no fright of darkness, no hazy inkling of treacherous death in shadowy corners. No terrifying dreams in the wake of the night.

No wonder they weren’t ready for their children’s nightmares.

Even when Shadow was finally allowed back, he was still condemned to patiently wait for the lights to go out.

He clenched his jaw with silent wrath.

Maybe he was losing battle after battle, but the war certainly wasn’t over yet.

Something had to change.

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I WEPT THE DAY WE MET

By the ninth year of the War, its cruelty no longer surprised anyone. When that air raid came, it was just another one in a row so long, that no one bothered to count. That day the War simply devoured some more lives. Nothing extraordinary.

Death and darkness were everywhere and after a very, very long time, they became normal again.

A woman stumbled through the ruins, looking for someone. Dreading to find.

It was inevitable though.

A small hand covered with white dust – dust that didn’t quite dull the bright pink of the fluffy toy in the lifeless fingers.

That was the moment she truly died for the first time.

So it really didn’t matter that she ran away. There was no plan, nowhere to go – she was only running from the nightmare left behind. The frozen grass crackled under her long steps, the icy air crept under her clothes, but she didn’t care. She only knew what she was looking for when a deep chasm opened before her, the ground falling steeply down. The woman was standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing she’s just a step from her solution.

She closed her eyes. A shaky breath left her lips. Down there, on the rocks, she could be free of that image. Of settling white dust. A final freedom, but freedom nonetheless. It seemed like the right choice. Like the only one left.

And yet. It was so hard to make that one last step.

Who knows how high it really is?

What a chilling thought.

And if it’s even high enough?

Her eyes snapped open.

That wasn’t her thought. Rather someone’s voice, whispering in her head.

She slowly turned around.

The one who spoke was standing just a few steps away. A dark shadowy figure, who could be described like a tall man, but not exactly, as everything about him was a touch too otherworldly. The creature grinned widely in greeting, with rows of sharp teeth catching her eye, clearly pleased that he was heard and seen.

But she forced the phantom to raise an eyebrow as she breathed out, the fear leaving her.

“Oh, you’re not real,” she seemed relieved, “just my imagination. Fitting.”

The shadowy being leaned closer down to her, studying her for a moment. As if he was looking for something that was clearly missing: “Real or not... I’m here. More interesting question is who are you?” a knowing smirk returned to his face: “And even more: what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” she retorted.

“It looks like you are too scared to die.”

So quickly. So casually. As if she wasn’t teetering on the very edge of death and life, literally and metaphorically. As if he didn’t actually care if she falls or not.

As if it didn’t matter on some greater scale of things – but he was just interested enough to see her hesitation.

It looks like you are too scared to die - a cutting voice of her own guilt.

“No, I… I shouldn’t be,” she answered quietly, “I shouldn’t be afraid-“

Her voice broke in tears though, when she managed to say it out loud: “But – but I am. They are all gone, they all died… And I can’t… I simply can’t let go.”

A moment of silence spread between them. She dug her fingers in her arms and now her voice was hollow, laced with self-disdain: “My imagination or not… You are right. I am too scared to die. To follow them – my son, my husband … I just want to forget. Everything and everyone. For good.”

It wasn’t exactly empathy that moved Shadow to do what he did next, but it was an idea. Risky, messy, but something that could work for both of them. It was unbelievably rare to find a soul ripe to take fae deal these days - but the fact that it just happened seemed hopeful to him.

“Maybe there is a way…” he offered, “A new existence. You would have to die as a human, true, but there would be a different life for you. One free of memories, of suffering.”

But she turned away. Her own mind was playing cruel games with her, wasn’t it?

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“A new life,” she scoffed, “it’s about time I woke up from this. This is unreal, you are unreal-“

He clenched his jaw. If she looked up, she would notice that it landed as an offense.

“I ran out of miracles,” she sighed bitterly.

The surreal being next to her inhaled sharply and firmly grabbed her wrist. Without a single beat of hesitation, he stepped off the cliff, dragging her along.

She almost screamed.

They were standing on clear air, ground deep, deep down below them. A wind billowed his cloak - more like smoke than fabric. The world was eerily quiet, except for the rush of blood in her temples.

“Who are you?” she managed to ask.

“A spirit of fear and I dare to say, I’m perfectly real,” he answered with a ringing amusement, “you can call me Shadow though.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from the nothingness below her feet, still doubting what the senses were clearly telling her. But… “Then… your offer… is real.”

“Indeed,” he nodded, offering her his other hand. She accepted gladly, grateful for any other firm spot in the midair. “Don’t mistake it for a charity though. It comes with a price. You’ll lose your memories and your pain, but whatever is left will belong to me.”

A familiar deal, she thought wearily. A fairy tale one – asking for her soul straight away wouldn’t make a difference.

“You want my loyalty,” she nodded, suddenly calm, as if she already resigned herself to this obscure fate. This was the end of the road and if there was any other path ahead, it still seemed like a free fall. A free fall she entrusted in his hands. Because it didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered anymore – except for the promise of relief. Anything to erase the white dust, the bright pink… “It’s all yours.”

“Then we have a deal,” he pulled her back to the real ground.

“I owe you my name,” she noticed on their strange journey away.

“I don’t care,” he shrugged without bothering to look at her.

“You don’t?”

“No. Names wield the power of memories. Soon we’ll find you a new one… Less troublesome.”

With that, he led her through a dark gate, that was both just a game of light and shadows and a heavy, screeching door.

The underground Palace didn’t belong on any human map. She stood by the window, watching the glass-still lake below, dark and quiet. The dimmed light was falling down in bleak columns, struggling through the cracks in ground somewhere high above in the cave’s ceiling. Looking out from inside an old grave might feel like this, she thought.

Both the geography and physics were failing her here, the shadows running across the walls on their own, without asking the light for guidance.

What a grim place where I’ll die. Where I’ll live as well.

Being here felt like walking through a dream that wasn’t entirely hers. Somewhere far away she could hear a dripping water, surprisingly clear and sharp sound in the silence around.

No more memories, no torturing thoughts. Just a plain and simple existence. She would lie if she said that the prospect scared her. Instead it felt both comforting and sad.

No memories – I’ll lose my family once again.

That suffocating guilt was supposed to go, too.

No, she didn’t feel fear anymore. Fear was an old friend by now. She knew everything about it and if she was to become a reflection of that force, there was no doubt. If this was her new way forward, she’d be good at it.

What she needed was to stop to feel in general.

Shadow returned from the depths of the halls, wherever he was before. In his hand he held a small bowl filled with pure liquid. And for a moment, he lingered in the doorway. It was strange to have a mortal here, this place was usually beyond their reach. But this woman walked through the gate without batting an eye. As he saw her standing by the window, she seemed exactly like one would suspect: like she wandered here from a different world. Too practical, too ordinary, too human… And yet, when she noticed him, she reached out her hand to take the poison from him.

“You’ll die,” he said and felt an unfamiliar uncertainty creeping to his voice. He had never tried such a trick before. He wouldn’t do it if he weren’t at his wit’s end. He needed to change something. Anything, really.

“The spell will bring your soul back.”

In some form, he didn’t add aloud. I have no idea in what kind of form – I can only hope it will be sentient enough to keep me company in this maddening silence of the past century. Strong enough to prove that currents of belief are still capable of giving some life, that things are not completely lost…

She didn’t say anything. She simply lifted the bowl with a small grateful smile. Just like that, no hesitation. She was falling since the cliff – there was no use to second guess it now.

It was so smooth, so fast, so reckless, he almost stopped her.

The liquid had no taste at all, almost no structure either. Drinking shadows would feel the same – until it started to feel like a freeze in her veins. Her insides twisted, ice cold power grasped her mind, obscuring it with ink of pain. The poison was muting life within her and the darkness was curling under her skin. She screamed, but no voice came out.

Her throat tightened, not able to let the breath through anymore. She pressed her hands against it, a desperate effort to hold on to life she refused so easily before.

Shadow watched her with a clenched heart. If this failed, he’d be guilty of her suffering.

The darkness in the corners of the chamber moved. Imperceptibly, at first. Then it rose like a wave, forcing even him to cower, and flooded what was left of the human being before him. It was like looking into the heart of the night - a mesmerizing swirl of shadows that were much more than just an absence of light. They had substance of their own.

And then he felt like a hitting tide wave, stealing his breath away.

Out there, in the world plagued by war belief rose up, braided from infinite number of human suffering, wishes and silent hopes. Up there people were facing a mercurial death - and they never grew up being trained by lesser fears for that. A human nature yearns for clinging on magic - and these mortals, unlike any generation before, were unspeakably deprived of that.

That striving, thirsty need of humanity trickled into a powerful stream and poured itself down to the Palace, finding a small frame of someone barely human, now.

Something essential emanated from the physical.

Shadow looked up and in front of him he saw her. Not her body anymore, that was lifeless now. Her. A soul. Calm one, freed of pain. The darkness receded, leaving behind just as much to cover her. Light reflected in her eyes, hazel warmth hidden in them. She smiled, ever so subtly, and let out a breath. First one of this new existence.

The darkness coiled around her and she noticed.

And, just on her whim, it wasn't darkness anymore. Those were suddenly bees, black like drops of night itself, buzzing and circling her. An expansion of her own will.

“Better,” she murmured, satisfied with the life breathed into them.

“Who are you?” Shadow couldn’t help but to ask, inadvertently echoing her own question from before.

Her smile grew wider, as if she only noticed him now: “How am I supposed to know? You tell me.”

The spirit of fear straightened up, feeling overwhelming relief he wasn’t willing to show: “Oh, we’ll find out. Welcome here.”

He leaned in, lifting her chin, studying this new being. Smaller than him, looking up with trust. She didn’t flinch from his touch.

“You’ll need a name,” he realized and, holding her gaze, he suddenly knew: “I’ll call you Hazel.”