His first memories had been of darkness. A darkness that had clung to him, molding him until it truly is the only thing he knows.
Is that why mum had named him Darkling?
Were he a more introspective sort, he might have lingered on this conundrum. Might have asked about it even. But alas, he is not. He is just a boy, after all. One who has too many more things to worry about in the world than lingering curiosity about his beginnings.
Those beginnings had made him into what he is though. Had crafted him into the youth that even now flits among the dark trees of the vast wood. He tests his very limits, understanding no bounds but those of his body and mind. Even that is tenuous sometimes. Doubtless his mother must worry sometimes, when he disappears for days. But he hardly pays that any mind.
There’s far too much to do, after all.
Today he lingers in the dark crevices of a forest path, eyes gleaming with an unholy mischievous gleam. Something only a youth with devilry in their heart and a wicked sense of humor could achieve. He is surprisingly patient in his wait to see his goals through. Hushed and still in the lullaby of the forest and whispering fauna. Silent and waiting.
Until an unsuspecting passerby wanders past, and he springs into action. He seems to grow almost impossibly large in the shadows, pale gold bleeding dark, eyes gleaming with a hellish light, horn spiraling and wicked as he grins at his poor victim.
All of this of course lasts no more than a moment before the youth falls away into peels of laughter, damning illusion disappearing to leave behind a young, gangly boy, fair and golden of feature. Not even as fearsome and frightening as the drooping leaves of the willow he had only moments ago appeared from.
you're burning up the sky, you're a constellation
I think that I could die for this revelation