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It was strange how it all happened really. The room was quite dark at first glance, except for a small candle flame that was fluttering about, casting strange dancing shadows on the walls. Casting the strangest of shadows was the girl who sat, with a gaze transfixed on that small candle flame. She sat there, on the floor, in front of the low table on which the candle stood. All seemed to dance about in golden light of the dark room. The light would shift, and I could never be sure of what it was that I was truly seeing. I could never be too sure, because it all seemed so strange; all that was about to happen seemed so strange. At first I was sure that the girl had mid-length blond hair. I was sure of it. It was her eyes though that gave me the most distraction next. I tried to see what colour they were- and yet it seemed that their colour was ever changing. They seemed green at first, and yet the next moment they had taken on a red sheen, and then they appeared to be violet, and they took on a metallic sheen, as if copper or gold. It must have been the play of light on her eyes. It must have been, for with each movement of the flame’s dance the colour of her eyes did change. Her eyes were not the only things to change or to seem strange about her. Her skin did not seem real at all. It had that same sheen of being metallic as her eyes did, except not at all gold or copper, but a silver sheen. It was a cold bright metal, illuminated as though it were the face of the moon. Her hair no longer held its gold luster. It must have been the darkness of the room. It must have been the play of shadows cast by that single candle flame. It had no luster to it, save maybe the luster of volcanic glass, in all its black beauty. Her hair danced about her face lightly, as if being caught in a gentle breeze. I felt no wind however on my own face, or my bare arms. The wind was coming from somewhere completely different. This image, this sight transfixed me so completely. I could not help but continue watching this girl, in this dark room. She held such a captivating and primal beauty.

I noticed then a low noise that I had not heard before this moment, or was it that I simply did not take notice of the noise before, while all my senses were captivated by this girl’s strange beauty. It was a low sound. Like all else in this room it seemed to be strange. I realized that it was a low humming, of a song. What this song was or how it could be described is beyond my description. It was like no other song I have heard before, or would I ever hear after this incident. There were no others that I could see in this room, save this girl and me. I saw not her lips move, though I knew the song came from behind them. It was an intoxicating rhythm this song that sprung from behind her lips. The candle danced to it, slow and rhythmic. Had time slowed? It seemed then that the girl began to move, and yet she did not. It seemed her head began to gently sway with the rhythm of her song, a song that seemed to stem from the bottom of her soul.

The scene became more beautiful yet, despite its strangeness. It seemed then that she was standing, although I knew she was still seated. Her hair seemed to be longer now. It must have been the play of the light. It seemed to stretch past her back, past her waist and hung somewhere by her knees. It seemed then that her humming was that of a thousand whispers, all speaking one overtop of the other- and yet they did not compete, but spoke in harmony. Her whole being seemed to dance with them, and yet remained completely still, watching the candle flame. Was it her dancing, or simply the firelight? It was she, for certain- and yet- and yet she did not move. Such primal beauty, captured with such serenity. Her presence sang out to me, begging that I reach forward and touch her, see if she was real. She had to have been real. I know that now. If a world were to exist without such a primal beauty- if she was not real, than surely, surely nothing in this world is real.

It seemed then, in her standing posture that great shadows grew from behind her. They were shadows of pure darkness. Did the flame, that dancing candle’s flame, cast these shadows? Her reality came only into question at this moment- for what I saw next was so unreal. I was almost sure that they were not shadows, but wings painted by the hand of darkness itself. They absorbed all light, and drew in my gaze, as if by gravity. The strongest of gravitational pulls, for in these shadows light itself was drawn and could not escape. They were wings. Wings of darkness, stemming from this girl’s back.. and yet she began as a golden child. She had been a golden child sitting in the darkness by dancing golden light. The flame of the candle danced and danced, and time stood still. She held such purity in darkness, such primal beauty. Her cool skin radiating moonlight did not fight with the shadows emerging from her. If I could have seen her face at that moment I am sure it would have been that of serenity, of calm splendor.

Was there a wind just then? Was there a wind capturing her image- floating it above the floor? I could in truth not see the floor, or rather I do not recollect taking notice. At that moment, that frozen moment in time I recall her seeming as if floating, back straight, arms outstretched, toes pointed, wings stretching as if an eagle in triumphant poise. Her hair seemed caught by this invisible current that held her there. Her hair was longer still than just that moment before. I gazed in awe. Her gaze was still transfixed on the candle’s flame. She was above the candle, no longer level with it, and yet her gaze remained held by that dancing golden light. She was a dark serenity.

Her gaze broke from the candle. Eyes closed her head jerked heavenward. In that same motion her arms reached behind her back. There was something in her hands now, I could not have been sure in that first moment. I would know soon enough. It seemed as though behind her she held a long object, taller than herself. I then took notice of a metallic glint above her head, behind where her wings were. In a breath her wings folded downward, as if she were to shoot like an arrow through the sky, but she did not fly away. In that same breath one arm released its grip on the pole to which it clung and returned to her front. The other arm swung ‘round its burden. The heavy metallic top dipped downward towards her feet and then up again as she moved it from behind her back and from behind her wings to in front of her. The free hand met the pole as came to cross the girl’s chest.

Her face turned to meet my transfixed gaze. There was something utterly familiar about her. I should have been afraid in that moment. Her eyes were the colour of garnet, and she held a glaive. I knew this was a glaive that if wielded with skill could silence the world. Was it all just the playing of the light? Was she not still sitting still looking at the dancing candle flame? What was this primal beauty in my gaze? What was she? Why did she not kill me then? I looked into her eyes, and in them I could see blue. Past that blue I could see the blond girl sitting, sitting, watching the dancing candle flame. In that moment, that judging moment the young girl too, looked at me. We were all looking each other in the eyes.

I opened my mouth to speak- and out sprang the song of a thousand whispers. Above them all we spoke. The young girl too, opened her mouth, and so did the dark angel who yields the glaive of silencing. In that moment we all spoke at once, and our words were one on top of the other, and our words were the same words. “We are complete. We are as one.”

It was all so strange the way it had all happened. When I awoke the morning after the candle I had been watching had burnt down and all that remained of the dancing flame was a pile of black wax.