Moonshadow

by J. D. Gregory

  “Madaera, the Great Mother, and Elberon, the Mighty Father, gave birth to two races; the Firstborn, the Kratari—which means Powers—and the Secondborn, the Tanarai—our name for humanity. The Firstborn are the magical beings of the Veil—what you might call nature spirits—and under the leadership of the greater Kratari, the Seraphar, the Soul of the Mother was in balance with her Body and the world was at peace.

  “The First Law of Elberon was that humans should have no knowledge of magic, the Veil, or the Kratari until they were ready, discovering the nature of the Mother’s Soul for themselves. Breaking the First Law would bring death and darkness to Madaera. The Seraphar, along with the rest of the Firstborn, were charged with operating within the Veil and keeping watch over the Mother and her youngest children. They were forbidden to take physical form and make themselves known to humans.

  “In those early ages, mankind’s civilization was simple and peaceful. They built villages and town-centers, cultivated land, and kept herds and flocks. Concepts like nations, kings, and conquest didn’t exist.

  “One night, the young shepherd Endymion was out with his flock under the night’s sky when a wolf crept amongst the sheep and took one of the ewe lambs. When Endymion realized what had happened, he left the other sheep in pursuit. It was very dark and he couldn’t follow the tracks. In an answer to an unspoken prayer, the clouds shifted and the moon lit his way just enough to track the wolf. Endymion thanked the moon for its gift of light and the shepherd confronted the wolf just outside its lair.

  “The night grew dark again and Endymion found it increasingly hard to see. He fought with all he had, but the wolf had better vision. As the wolf lunged in for the kill, about to tear out Endymion’s throat, the moon appeared again. It was enough for the shepherd to see the attack and crush the wolf’s skull with his crook. With the wolf dead and the lamb safe, Endymion fell to his knees before the moon and thanked her for saving his life—declaring that it now belonged to her.

  “The next night, while lounging under the light of the moon with his flock, Endymion picked up his lyre and wrote a song for his beloved. Udana heard the shepherd’s song and took notice of him. A longing that the Moon Keeper did not understand stirred within her heart and she loved him from that moment on.

  “Every night, Endymion would sing to his heavenly lady a new lyric of his love for her, not knowing that Udana continued to watch and listen. She knew it was forbidden, and it grieved her, but Udana loved the shepherd and longed to be with him.

  “The Moon Keeper’s infatuation with the human greatly troubled Sephriel, Keeper of the Dawn, who was close to Udana and loved her dearly. He grew jealous of Endymion and it quickly swelled into a hatred for all mankind. He thought of nothing but destroying them all and ridding the Mother of their parasitic corruption.

  “One night, Udana decided to take the form of a rabbit to be near Endymion. Seizing the opportunity, Sephriel took the form of a serpent, attacked Udana in front the shepherd, and then skulked off into the shadows. The attack left Udana weakened and unable to stay in the form of a rabbit, forcing to take her Krataric form in the physical realm.

  “Endymion looked on Udana—who was wounded and naked—and felt compassion for her. He took her in his arms, caring for her like any one of his wounded lambs, and her love for the shepherd continued to grow.

  “When Endymion left her for a moment to tend to his flock, Sephriel appeared to whisper honeyed words of temptation into Udana’s ear.”

  “What’d he say?” Diana asked with excitement, not realizing she was on the edge of the bench. Apparently, she’d been consumed with Darien’s tale.

  Darien laughed at her enthusiasm. “If you want the full version, I have an English translation in my study.”

  “I want the dialogue for this part,” she demanded before smiling wide. “And make it dramatic.”

  Darien chuckled at her request. “I’ll try my best. Where were we?”

  “Sephriel the Tempter,” Diana quickly replied, eager to hear more.

  “Oh right.” He cleared his throat before continuing.

  “‘What troubles you, my sister?’ Sephriel asked the Moon Keeper.” Darien did his best to assume a sly, villainous, persona.

  “‘I cannot know the man I love and I will surely die from my broken heart,’ she replied.

  “‘Did our mighty father tell us that we could never love?’ Sephriel asked.

  “‘Elberon decreed that we must never know the Secondborn—lest the Mother die,’ Udana replied.

  “‘Surely, our father and mother want all their children to love one another. You and the shepherd knowing each other in love will surely not bring death to the mother. Such a thing cannot come to pass. Love begets life, not death.’ And with that, Sephriel returned to the shadows.

  “The words of the Keeper of the Dawn echoed within Udana’s heart, consuming her. When Endymion returned to tend her wounds, the shepherd saw that she was already healed and marveled.”

  Darien took Diana’s hands into his own and addressed her as if she were the Moon Keeper. “‘Who are you my lady?’ he asked the beautiful maiden.

  “Remembering the words of Sephriel, Udana forgot Elberon’s warning and gave in to her longings.

  “‘I am Udana of the Moon,’ she declared. ‘For whom your song of love was written. You have saved me, as I once saved you. Know that I love you and my heart sings with yours.’”

  “The shepherd took the Moon Keeper into his arms and kissed her, the fires of their hearts dancing in unison. That night they knew each other as lovers, their souls entwining as new life formed within Udana’s womb. The fruit of their union was the first of the Thirdborn—the Naphalei.

  “When the other Seraphar saw that the love of Udana and Endymion did not bring death and darkness, they too began to consummate their unrequited loves for human men and women. Seven in total engaged in love affairs with humans, begetting more of the Thirdborn.

  “It took many centuries for the consequences of Udana and Endymion’s actions to come to fruition, however. Eventually, wars erupted between humans and the Thirdborn which brought chaos to Madaera. Elberon grieved for his children, crying great tears to flood the earth; for only by their complete annihilation could the Mother be purified and restored to glory.

  “When the rains did not cease, many blamed Endymion for his transgression against Elberon and the shepherd was killed in an attempt to appease the Father’s wrath. Stricken by grief, Udana forsook her place in the sky and made the treacherous journey deep within the Veil, into the mysterious unknown, in search of the soul of her beloved. With Udana gone, the moon did not give light nor did it keep the Mother in balance—it was a time of unmatched suffering and death.

  “After many trials and tribulations, Udana finally reached the Halls of Morvera, Keeper of the Dead and guardian of the final gateway into the Golden Kingdom in the realm beyond the Veil. Udana pleaded with Morvera to let Endymion return to the world of the living but her stalwart sister was unmoved. Finally, Udana declared that she would give up her immortality and authority as a Seraphar to be with her beloved in death. Morvera consented and presented her sister with the Cup of Death, so that she may drink of it and pass through the final gate.

  “Without hesitation, Udana drank deeply of the draught and was reunited with Endymion, though not in the mysterious beyond. Instead, both Udana and Endymion found themselves in the midst of the Great Court of Elberon.

  “Elberon was moved by Udana’s actions, and her sacrifice for Endymion proved to him that their love was true and worthy. Even though the cries of the Mother demanded justice, Elberon—in his mercy—agreed to spare their children from complete annihilation.

  “As for the other Seraphar who had begotten children with mankind; they were cast from their thrones, forever deemed the Fallen, and chained within the darkest depths of the Veil—the Pit of Shadows.”

  “What happened to Udana?” asked an anxious Diana. “She wasn’t cast into the
Pit with the others, was she?”

  Darien smiled and shook his head. “Udana and Endymion were granted a mercy—if you can call it that. The shepherd was restored to life and granted the gift of immortality; however—as you know—he was made to slumber. Udana, not counted among the Fallen because of her loving sacrifice, returned to her throne as Keeper of the Moon. During the night of the new moon, Udana is allowed to descend from her place in the heavens and sleep beside her beloved shepherd, who continues to dream until he awakens in the Days of Remaking.

  “So ends the tale of Udana of the Moon and Endymion, Prince of Shepherds.” When he finished telling his tale, Darien stared off into the night’s sky.

  They sat in silence for a long moment, Diana unsure how to respond.

  “What a beautifully tragic story,” she said, genuinely moved by it. The tale felt as old as time itself—it was a story that would touch the heart of any who heard it.

  “Yes it is,” Darien replied and then looked into her eyes as if searching within for an answer to a deeply heartfelt question.

  Diana’s heart raced under his gaze. Those gray portals sparkled with profound wonder, fascination, and anticipation that echoed with her. It was the same faraway yet near contemplation he’d had standing before the mysterious stone stele.

  With his hand, Darien brushed the side of her face with the backs of his fingers. The soft, gentle, touch of his skin filled her body with warm chills and she covered his hand with her own.

  Not once did she tear her gaze from his.

  Darien leaned in, and after the longest of moments, his lips softly touched hers. The warmth of them somehow matched the warmth she felt inside.

  Diana forced herself to breathe, not knowing that she had stopped, and the scent of the air made the flutters she felt inside of her stomach course through her entire body. She couldn’t tell whether it was his skin or his hair—or both—but it filled her an intense longing for more.

  As Diana returned his kiss she felt more of his soft touch as he cupped her face with both hands.

  It was a kiss unlike any she had ever experienced. The warmth in Diana’s chest made all seem right in a world of chaos. Her lips felt as if they had been born with his and had been torn apart at some point in time—only now were they finally at home. The same could be said for the touch of his hands on her face, feeling as if they had always belonged there. There was a light of life that echoed between the two of them; a life that, until now, was only half of something greater.

  The two halves were longing to be made whole.

  Diana’s tongue began to part Darien’s lips, opening his mouth wider to hers.

  Suddenly, Darien tore his lips from hers and the perfect moment was ended. Diana’s heart cried out with ire, having been denied its desired light, as he pulled away from her.

  “Diana—I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—.”

  In a haze, she was brought back to a reality that she couldn’t quite remember and life felt inadequate. Diana brought her hand to her face, touching the skin where Darien’s hands had been just a moment ago.

  Her eyes began to focus on Darien’s troubled and deeply apologetic expression and she found herself.

  “That’s the first time you called me Diana,” she said upon realization.

  “I—I’m sorry, Miss Selene. Forgive me for—for everything.” He seemed genuinely ashamed—and somewhat afraid—of what he had done, as if he had no idea what had come over him.

  Diana took Darien’s face softly in her hand and looked him in the eyes.

  “There is nothing to forgive. I kissed you too, you know—and please—call me Diana.” When he called her by her name, it had almost felt more intimate than the kiss—almost.

  “Yes, of course…Diana.” The way he said her name, it sounded as if he had waited a lifetime for the opportunity to do so. Perhaps among his people, calling someone by their first name carried an unspoken intimacy that was reserved for close friends and lovers.

  “Come,” he said as he stood and offered her his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

  Diana smiled with a warmth that reflected what she felt within, took Darien’s offered hand, and they continued to walk, hand in hand, bathed in the luminous glow of the moon.

  Chapter 9

  Is this the realm of Fae I learned to fear?

  No wretched ghoul nor demon do I see,

  But rather, those fair folk of Venus born.

  Yet, Avalon’s ruler is the foul beast,

  That ripped blessed Mother from daughter’s side.

  It was Sunday morning and Diana felt an uncharacteristic need to go to church. Though why, she didn’t really know. She’d never been a religious person, having only gone to services a handful of times with her grandmother, but she felt very lost. Perhaps she needed some sort of faith-based anchor to hold onto in the chaotic sea that was her present state of mind.

  Diana would have likely dismissed the previous night’s events as an elaborate and fantastic dream had she not, in fact, spent the majority of her sleeping hours within the nightmare realm she now knew to be the Veil. As soon as her dreaming consciousness appeared in the eye of a swirling tempest filled with Terrorfiends made of green lightning, Diana knew she could not dismiss the truths laid out by Darien. He belonged to a legendary race of magical beings and her dream world—the Veil—was the home of the powerful, and sentient, forces of nature.

  Diana didn’t know if the truth brought an amount of peace to her spirit or filled her with even more fear—probably both.

  She still had no idea why the Veil chose to torment her over any other human being. Darien’s explanation made a fair amount of sense, and it certainly explained why her dreams returned once she came to the university, however, it didn’t account for why the Veil had called to her originally. If it was simply due to her being spiritually sensitive, why had her dreams come upon her so suddenly? Did turning twelve somehow make Diana a more spiritual person? If so, why did the dreams eventually stop? Had the Veil gotten tired of her refusal to journey there? One thing was for certain: there was definitely more truth out there, and Diana needed to find it.

  Making her way through the quad in the direction of the nearest church, Diana realized she’d rather be alone than be in the midst of caring, yet intrusive, strangers. A tranquil Sunday morning walk sounded like a much more lucrative spiritual exercise than singing some stuffy old songs she didn’t know and then listening to some boring sermon.

  Diana turned on her heel and let nature guide her directional bearings. Just beyond the Gothic library, she spotted a lovely trail leading into the woods and headed that way.

  With the tall trees all around her, and the morning sun shining on her face through the leaves, Diana began to feel the peace she desired. She closed her eyes a moment and took a deep breath. The musty scent of leaves and tree-bark, mingled with the aroma of the grass and earth, filled her mind with thoughts of the autumn that was only a few weeks away. Very soon, all the leaves surrounding her would be turning colors and falling to the ground.

  Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring—the seasonal cycle of death and rebirth that has existed since time began. What did it all mean to Diana now? Did powers exist within the Veil that governed the seasons? If Darien’s tale of the shepherd and the Moon Keeper was true, did that mean other myths and legends were reality as well? Was the death of winter heralded by the earth-mother Demeter’s mourning for her beloved daughter, Persephone? Did the new life of spring come with her return from the Underworld?

  The trail suddenly meandered to the left but Diana didn’t feel like following the path; instead, she kept walking forward into the trees. If she found herself lost, she could just walk straight back the way she came.

  Diana’s thoughts drifted back to Darien’s tragic story of the Moon Keeper, her shepherd prince, and the magical kiss she and Darien had shared. Even now, her heart was all-a-flutter just remembering how soft his lips had been on her own and the indescribable warmth that
had filled her as his hand caressed her face. Even the kiss had felt like a fantasy come to life. Visions of Udana and Endymion sharing the same magical moment together filled Diana’s mind, but they were soon overshadowed by a sudden epiphany.

  Udana and Endymion decorated the ancient elven monument.

  If they were real, does that mean the Chalice of the Moon exists as well? If so, how did Foxwell Flinders and Charlotte come to learn of it? Had they somehow managed to translate the ancient language of Darien’s people? Darien did mention that Flinders somehow knew about the magical places of the world. Had he stumbled upon forbidden knowledge? Perhaps that was the true reason he and Charlotte did not reach old age.

  Diana gasped at the notion. Did Darien’s people kill my aunt?

  Her train of thought suddenly halted when her entire body began tingling like a limb that had just woken up from losing circulation. Diana closed her eyes tightly at the sharp pins and needles tingling every inch of her skin and stood perfectly still, willing her muscles not to move so the spasms of discomfort didn’t intensify. Within a matter of moments, the sensation faded and Diana opened her eyes.

  The woods had changed.

  Before the fit of tingles her vision had been filled with dense trees and foliage, but now, she stood at the edge of a circular clearing of the woods that hadn’t existed mere moments ago. In the center stood ruins that were not unlike the crumbling temple in which Diana had encountered Darien’s dreaming self within the Veil. Was she there now? Can a person daydream into the realm of magic as well?

  A movement of shadows caught Diana’s eye, and in a panic, she instinctively grabbed the trunk of the tree to her right and hid behind it.

  She inhaled deeply though her nose and then slowly exhaled through her mouth, calming herself.

  No; this isn’t the Veil. She didn’t sense the potent chaos of that place; this was something completely different.