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Shadows; a home since first breath. The dark was always comforting. The shadows would never betray you. That is until, of course, they consumed you. It is said that the greatest of men would tame their shadows, and in so doing blind others. Those who are blind can of course only follow from fear, and this mixture of trepidation and perpetual dark creates one of the greatest enigmas of life: trust. Of course, then, one must speak of the blinding one. Who does Odysseus trust when he pummels the burning stake into the eye of the cyclops? His men. That's indubitable. But suppose he was alone? Well then, his tale wouldn't have survived. In blinding one's subordinates one will inevitably become blind. Independency becomes, quite possibly, a fallacy under these terms. Everything looks up to something, and it only becomes a question of how far you have to crane your neck. But all things must come to an end you say? Well, yes, this is true. We may assume things are infinite: the number of stars in the sky or love, but logically even these things will stop. Everything will cease. Everything must cease. But then where does this vicous cycle of cricks in the neck end? And what do you suppose happens when one thinks himself this extermity? Hubris. Ah, hubris... It's a killer.
The woman smiled from the shadows and knocked the two arrows she'd been waiting for so long to shoot. She slipped her fingers down between the shafts and took hold of the feathered ends, pulling back the string of her bow. She whispered, "To live is to dream and to die is to awaken." then let the arrows sing, and watched with a grim smile as they sunk into the neck of her nemisis, the modding mage.
Chani Ravenwood then stepped from the caressing darkness, only smiling as she felt his eyes, those that used to belong to her friend, turn to her.
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