Hearts of Dark and Light

HEARTS Of DARK & LIGHT A SHORT STORY by QUINN BLACKBIRD HEARTS OF DARK AND LIGHT Copyright © 2023 by Quinn Blackbird All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission—this includes scanning and/or unauthorised distribution—except in case of brief quotations used in reviews and/or academic articles, in which case quotations are permitted. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether alive or dead, is purely coincidental. Names, characters, incidents, and places are all products of the author’s imagination. Imprint: Independently published. contents HEARTS of LIGHT AND DARK ~ 1 2 3 4 5 6 ~ 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 HEARTS of DARK AND LIGHT Previously published as the short story ‘DARK SKIES’ for an anthology, ‘Hearts of Dark and Light serves as the inspiration story that threw me into the dark world of the best-selling universe DARK FAE. Note that this is *not* part of the Dark Fae Universe – but it is the short story that inspired the world. ~ There is a land shrouded in darkness where all those who enter must forfeit their freedom to the monsters in the dark. Vicious creatures stalk the thick blackness, from the highest point of the starless sky to the withered grass that never grows. They say that under the dark skies of the Northern Kingdom, nothing grows other than the cruelties of the darkness’ true children. The dokkalves. The darkness never enters the land of light, where the sun shines down on the cruel fae and grass grows into lush kisses of nature. The litalves keep the peace treaty of the two lands with all their might. If the dark skies reach the clean skies, all of light will be doomed. 1 Dad once said that life is hardest for humans. Maybe he’s right. After all, the humans are under the control of fae. The world was reconquered by the dark fae long ago, after humans poisoned the earth, polluted the air, and destroyed much of the wildlife. Humans had their chance, they ruined it. And now, they pay for it. Humans now live in slums dotted all over the two lands—the Northern Kingdom and the Southern Queendom. The humans are slaves to fae of all kinds: Dark ones, light ones, goblins, gnomes, and even selkies and hags. Yes, life is hard for humans. I won’t deny that. But when I’m feeling awfully sorry for myself, I sometimes think that it is hardest for my kind. The halflings. To be one of each, fae and human, one foot in, one out, is not easy. I don’t live with the humans. I live with my fellow litalves in the Southern Queendom. Where I almost belong. 2 I drape a shawl over my shoulders and sit at my dressing table. It’s low, claw-footed, and rests before a spread of plush pillows. The oval mirror shimmers at me, like water down a stream. The ripple comes before the water clears and the image of a stern, stunning woman is revealed. As much as I wish otherwise, the woman in the reflection is not me. It is my mother, Inka, standing in the doorway between the parted curtains made of moth wings. “It reeks of human in here, Skye,” says mother. Blankly, I stare back at her through the water-mirror. My plain, hazel eyes meet her lemon-yellow cat-eyes, and a moment passes between us. It is not a loving moment. It is a pause filled with the unspoken things mother wishes to tell me. Horrid things. Mother steps into the room and strolls around the bed—a wicker basket buried into the floor, smothered with feathery pillows and duvets. “Did you entertain a human servant in your chambers again?” I don’t bristle at the mockery in her voice. Instead, I bow my head, letting my raven hair drape down the side of my face, like a mask shielding me from her piercing stare. My eyes can’t resist—they lift and watch her approach. Her pointed chin is raised, her yellow eyes are steady on me, and a slight twist to her lips shows her distaste. Distaste of me or the scent of human in my room? I don’t know. Likely both. Mother drapes herself over the chaise lounge beside my dressing table. She sits there for one purpose only. A full, perfect view of me, so that she can relish in the anguish my face may betray. Mother is preparing to lecture me. I lift my chin and touch my gaze to hers. Finally, I cave under her quiet force and admit, “It was the servant, Quinton.” Sometimes I dally with him. He is attractive for a human, and kind. Kindness is hard to come by in the light lands, particularly for me. I turn my gaze back to the mirror and give myself a once-over. Pale skin the colour of melting snow shines back at me; ordinary hazel eyes flicker under the glow of the afternoon sunlight; dark hair curtains my oval face; and a snub nose sits above my pink lips. Perhaps in the human world, I might have been beautiful, or pretty, or even just normal-looking. But in the light lands, I look strange and ordinary; nothing like my mother, a holder of eternal beauty so captivating that it brings men to their knees whenever she wishes it. As I comb my pale fingers through my dark mane, mother says, “I suppose the leaf doesn’t drift far from the roots. After all, dear Edward does offer me such temptation.” Edward is my dad, my human dad. He is mother’s paramour, of sorts; a ‘human-on-the-side’, as some say. Though he isn’t a servant, and he met mother long before the human realm fell to the dokkalves and their pitch-black skies, his place in this realm will always be