Author’s Note: from my WIP.
There is dark. There is darker. I fall somewhere in between. Some might say the black void of infinity close; it is too cold for my liking, too remote. The storm would come closer, those moments before the lightning strike when midnight gathers and fury threatens; I am not furious, I am quiet like a forgotten whisper. There are so many shades, so many names, from obsidian to slate and back again, so many ways to clarify that which must roam free. In a world of the definite, I am without category. In a universe of polished perfections, I am less reflective than one would wish. So, my friends, my less than fortunate disciples, I can say only this. I am the night, and woe betide the light that escapes me.