The shadows whisper, whisper, whisper to him. Khaedrik is adamant not to listen; not to give in to the madness that even now seek to uproot him. It is perhaps, a battle he is incapable of winning.
He does not know, this maker of nightmares, that he is dashing towards his greatest fear; we rarely do know the turns our feet take. He does not appear as the hero, who will cage a great monster. He seems only as what he is, and might be forever: a scared colt-child in the woods.
Her words are meant to soothe his trembling heart; to instill courage in him, to help. But what great deed can this wretched thing, with his adolescent body on unsure legs, perform? Can she not see that he is weak? Look at his heaving lungs, his lack of sinews!
The shadows clasp greedily for his golden hide; he was their child, spun of darkness and nightmares. But his eyes are trained on Solace still, a small beacon of light and hope in his world of darkness. He clings to her words desperately, nods his small head in response. Oh, he can be good. Good, good, good.
As her light erupts – his eyes stir with unreadable emotion. The shadows hiss and crack – and for a moment they recoil, as the shards of her light fall upon them. Khaedrik shudders; part of him laments their absence – he feels naked in his own skin, bereft of monsters and darkness and for a moment he is only Child. Wide eyed with wonderment. His mouth forms a soft, unspoken “oh” as he continues to stare upon her. She is light where he is darkness, a goddess in her might – and staring into the blinding, searing light that exudes from her body, Khaedrik can almost believe that he has found his salvation.
Almost. For his shadows would not give up so easily, they nip at his heels – coaxing him, pleading for him to turn away from this creature of bright light and purity. Khaedrik ignores them, for now, his gaze is reverence and there is a small smile; childish and pure, playing on his lips.
”Thank you!” he breathes shakily ”I would very much like that”