The Night

The Night is darkest before morning.

I didn’t understand this.

Not when it was always night, and there was no morning. Not when we would never again see the sun peeking out from behind the mountains. Not when we hadn’t seen the light, not for a hundred years.

The Night is darkest before morning.

Mother used to say that. I used to believe it. I didn’t anymore.

“One day,” she used to say, “the light will chase away the darkness. One day, we will have light.”

The Night claimed her.

Now, the light had become a myth, a fairytale told to small children as bedtime stories. Nobody believed in the light, or if they did, they knew it was never going to return.

Nobody except Faolan.

“Muireall,” he said to me, “there is still light.”

“You can’t say that,” I said. My fingers wrapped around my sword hilt. I glanced around us. We were miles away from the nearest town, but these days, you could never be sure that you were alone. “The darkness doesn’t like it. And the light isn’t going to return.”

“You know,” Faolan said, leaning against the mossy trunk of a tree, “there is still light. It’s out there somewhere. But it’s not going to come back unless we help it.”

“Talk softer,” I whispered. “The shadows could be watching us.”

Faolan lowered his voice, his hooded cloak falling over his eyes. “We have to help the light return.”

“Shh,” I said. “Do you want to get yourself killed? Like…like them?”

There was a silence.

“Mother was claimed by the night,” he said slowly. “Taken by the Night. She…didn’t resist.”

“Of course she resisted,” I said. “Of course she…”

My voice trailed away. She had been pulled away.

She didn’t resist hard enough.

Faolan looked down at me. He was still a head taller than me, although I liked to think I was catching up. His mouth was set let in a hard line. “We have to resist.”

And we were resisting. Two years later, Faolan was leading an army.

He had claimed a lost city for his own, giving the hopeless people a leader. He had driven back the darkness, and now the stone-walled city was one of the few bright places left.

All the unclaimed people in the city, the ones who believed that they could bring the light back; they were his army. They fought with the little amount of light they had left, driving back the Night. Still, it wasn’t enough. They could barely keep this city in the light as it was.

Faolan and I strode across the plaza, my cloak billowing out behind me. I had discarded my faded, torn cloak from when we ran. Now I had a robe of white velvet, and a gold-hilted sword attached to my belt. A faint glow could be seen from inside the sheath. Too faint for anyone to notice, but I knew it was there.

“Faolan,” I said, taking longer strides to keep up. “This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean?” Faolan said. “It is working. We have light.”

“Only here we have light,” I said. “The rest of the kingdom is in darkness. This is only a refuge from the shadows. The shadows are still out there.”

“The city serves as a safe place for all these people,” Faolan said, gesturing around us. “Without the light we have here, they would all have been claimed.”

“What happened to resisting the darkness?” I said.

“We are resisting the darkness,” Faolan said.

It was true. The sky was blue and bright over Faolan’s city, only the faintest patches of inky black staining the horizon. The darkness had been driven back.

But the darkness was still there.

“We are resisting the darkness,” I said. A pause. “Now we need to defeat it.”

“FIRE!”

The shout came from the gates.

Faolan drew his sword. The blade was glowing white. “Stay here.”

“I can fight the dark,” I said.

Faolan fixed me with a hard glare. “Muireall, you’re only fifteen. I know you can fight, but I’ve got to keep you safe. Run to the castle tower, and stay there. Now go.”

“FIRE!”

He rushed in the direction of the shouts.

He was gone.

I knew when Faolan said to run, run. He had saved my life in this way before. Before, when we were safe and happy one moment, and then the dark came rushing in, tearing the wall down and sweeping them away. If he hadn’t told me to run, I’d be claimed. I knew to listen to him.

But I knew what the shout of fire meant.

This fire wasn’t bright nor warm. It didn’t burn. That wasn’t how it destroyed.

This fire was cold. It withered everything it touched. It couldn’t be extinguished with water. Only the Swords of the Light could stop it.

Swords like that were few.

I could see the black flames licking up the gate. The gates were crumbling, turning to foul black dust. Shouts came to my ears. They were shouting for anyone with a Sword of the Light to come.

The shadows were creeping over the wall, sliding down into the city. The flames leaped higher. There were screams now.

Hesitantly, I drew my glowing sword. Faolan had told me to run, save myself. But I held up my sword, the light fell on my face, throwing shadows onto all the buildings near me. I had a Sword of the Light.

I couldn’t run.

I wouldn’t run.

I would fight the darkness. Because I had the light.

And I charged towards the darkness.

There was Faolan up ahead. He was slashing at the Night, the darkness falling to its knees before him. His sword drove back the shadows, cutting them to pieces.

With a roar, I leapt into the dark.

I slashed at the dark. I could feel the blade slicing into the shadows. With a screech, a shadow died. I whirled around to face the next, my hair whipping my face.

I ducked at a shadow swooped over me. I was enveloped in darkness, the shadows closing in faster than I could destroy them. Stabbing blindly at the heavy air, shrieks filling my ears.

We are the Night.

“Die,” I shouted into the dark. “You will die.”

We are the Night. And we will not be defeated.

The world was falling silent. I was flailing, the Sword heavy in my grasp. My blackened cape wrapping around my legs. I stumbled, the Sword limp at my side.

The darkness was pulling me under. I could feel myself disappearing, my mind drifting away from the battle. I had no thoughts anymore. Floating, letting the dark carry me away, cold fingers drifting down my spine. Then, it was quiet.

Muireall.

“Mother,” I whispered, my voice echoing from far away.

Fight them, Muireall. Chase away the darkness. Fight them.

I raised my sword one more time. Stabbed it into the dark.

An ear-shattering shriek as the shadow disappeared.

Nothing.

“Mother?” I gasped, the word catching in my throat. It came out as an agonising cough.

With each heartbeat, there was a thunderclap in my head. It was like every nerve in my body had been severed, burned, then frozen in ice water. Nothing could describe it. There was nothing but pain.

“Muireall,” I heard. A choking sob. “Muireall…you didn’t run…”

“Faolan...” My mouth was full of blood. When I opened my eyes a slit, my vision was tinted red.

But there was light.

“You drove back the Night,” Faolan said, his voice hoarse. His face was streaked with sweat and blood. His eyes were glistening. “You…you saved the city. Saved us all. Muireall—listen…you are the best little sister I could have ever had.”

I gazed up at Faolan, meeting his eyes. He looked so desperate. Terrified that I would be snatched away from him. Just like when we first ran from the Night, years ago.

The world was darkening again. The pain was consuming me.

“Muireall—you’re dying,” Faolan murmured. His tears fell onto my face. “Please, please, Muireall…”

“Keep fighting the darkness,” I whispered. Behind Faolan, there was a clear blue sky. We had driven away the shadows. I smiled weakly. Mother was right. “The Night is darkest before morning.”