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The Light Keeper - (Not related to Demon Gods)
🕑 Added 2024-10-13 00:52:01 +0000 UTCI've added quite a few short stories to the game so far.
Usually as gameplay mechanics such as my Zork inspired scenes.
There's one story I wrote that I had intended to add to the game but ended up getting too into the story and decided it no longer fit in the world of Demon Gods.
I am doing something else with it, but in the meantime I'd like to share it with you loyal patrons.
There's nothing lewd about this story, so it probably doesn't quite fit this Patreon properly, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. I'm really proud of it!
The Light Keeper
Orphaned magic users became Lightkeepers, forced into servitude. These weren't people; they were slaves.
They held no rights and granting them names was punishable by death.
Villages hoarded Lightkeepers, five at least, granting them only slivers of rest and sustenance before demanding their service again. Bought and sold like property, their sole purpose was to illuminate the world and ward off encroaching darkness. Beyond the light lurked unspeakable horrors, waiting in the shadows to devour everything.
Lightkeepers vanished, one by one, the cause a mystery. A lone boy stood in the village center, a lantern held high. He was the last Lightkeeper, perhaps the last in the entire world. His comrades had departed, the last of whom was an elderly man who offered a sorrowful look before relinquishing his lantern and walking into the shadows.
Now, the boy, barely more than a child but burdened by the mantle of a Lightkeeper, held the magical lantern, the sole defense against the encroaching darkness. He kept the wall of shadows at bay, protecting the tiny village. Sleepless and hungry for days, he persevered in his duty to his small community, a source of unwavering pride.
A young girl about his age broke free from her mother's grasp and approached him. "What's your name?" she blurted out.
Her question sparked joy in him, the first time someone outside the Lightkeepers had spoken to him.
"I don't have one," he mumbled.
"That's awful," the girl frowned, deep in thought. "What can I call you, then?"
Before the boy could respond, the girl's mother swooped in, scolded her daughter, and whisked her away. The woman's stern voice brooked no argument, forbidding the girl from speaking to the Lightkeeper.
However, the young girl's curiosity refused to be stifled by her mother's orders. In the following days, she became a master of escape, returning to the Lightkeeper's side. Their often silly and lighthearted conversations filled the bleak world with brief bursts of laughter. The girl regaled him with fantastical tales of knights rescuing damsels from dragons and, sometimes, of damsels rescuing dragons from knights. These silly stories brought a smile to the Lightkeeper's face, a fleeting escape from the weariness that etched itself deeper onto his features with each passing day.
Years passed.
The lantern's constant demands gnawed at his body, leaving him a weary, hollow shell. Years without rest or sustenance had reduced him to a shadow of his former self, his eyes dull and sunken, his skin pale and stretched thin.
The darkness at the village edge pressed inwards, the glowing eyes of unseen monsters burning hungrily on the other side, waiting for a breach.
Panic surged through the villagers with each passing day. Desperation drove them to approach the Lightkeeper for the first time.
They threatened him with violence, hurled accusations of laziness, demanding he redouble his efforts to protect them. Despite their cruelty, a flicker of joy sparked within the boy - people were finally speaking to him.
His voice, steady and unwavering, reassured them, promising their safety.
After the villagers dispersed, the young woman, a habit honed over years of nightly visits, snuck out to see him.
With concern etched on her face, the woman asked, "Why do you put up with such treatment?"
A weary smile tugged at his lips. "They're just scared," he offered.
Her brow furrowed, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. "If I were you, that lantern would be out of here faster than a scared rabbit."
A soft chuckle escaped the boy, a shake of his head following. "Then I'd miss your stories," he admitted.
Her laugh echoed a melody that amplified her beauty. A blush crept up his neck as he quickly averted his gaze.
"Aren't you scared of what lurks beyond the darkness?" he whispered, a tremor in his voice.
The girl cocked her head, her stare unwavering as she pondered his question. "No, not really," she said calmly. "It's not like you can hold that lantern forever, right?"
Her words slammed into him like a physical blow. The weight of her truth settled on his shoulders, heavy and undeniable. Deep down, he'd always harbored the knowledge, a truth he couldn't escape - his fate was sealed. One day, his strength would give way, and darkness would engulf them all. But to hear it voiced by the one person who had been his light in the dark left him reeling.
His eyes widened in shock, his gaunt features etched with surprise. The girl's casual acceptance of their inevitable doom left him speechless.
The woman's melodic voice, still echoing with the tale of the pirate who feared the very water upon which he sailed, faded as she left the Lightkeeper's side. Alone again, he felt the weight of a life starved of rest and sustenance etched into his body and mind. Years had carved lines onto his face and sunk his eyes into hollows.
He drifted in thought, picturing the woman who'd been his constant companion, her beauty and kindness a balm. Exhaustion gnawed at him, and for a fleeting moment, he closed his eyes, her smile lingering behind his lids.
A sudden eruption of screams, sharp with pain and terror, ripped him from his reverie. His eyes flew open, horror blossoming in his chest as he realized his light had extinguished, plunging the village into darkness. In that single, stolen moment of respite, the village had been ravaged. Bloodstained streets, half its inhabitants gone, ripped from their homes and dragged into the merciless shadows.
The remaining villagers, with faces twisted in anger and desperation, swarmed him. Their words lashed out, cutting deeper than any blade. The young man stood before them, a tragic figure. His eyes were hollow and ringed with dark circles, sunken into his gaunt face. Ashen skin stretched taut over his cheekbones, highlighting their sharp angles. His hair, once full of life, hung limp and dull.
"Useless! Can't even hold a tiny lantern?" one villager spat, rage and fear contorting his face.
"Do you WANT us to die? What's wrong with you!" another shrieked, her voice laced with shrill desperation.
"After all we've done for you!" a third cried, their tone laced with bitter poison – ingratitude that seeped into the Lightkeeper's heart.
The young man hung his head, shame a heavy weight. The villagers' words echoed in his ears, a relentless drumbeat within his skull. As he stood there, absorbing their anger and despair, he caught a glimpse of his friend through the crowd. Her eyes held a heart-wrenching mix of concern and disappointment.
A silent sigh of relief escaped him – she was unharmed. But the weight of her gaze remained, a crushing reminder of his failure. He had failed them all, but most importantly, he had failed her. Exhaustion had claimed him, allowing the darkness a moment's trespass upon the village. In that single breath of respite, he had shattered the fragile trust entrusted to him.
As the villagers drifted away, the woman followed, leaving him alone with the gnawing guilt that consumed him.
He was certain he would never see the woman again, the one person who held a lantern against the darkness encroaching on his heart.
Surprise surged through the man as the woman reappeared the next day. She marched towards him, eyes blazing with anger. He braced himself for her attack.
"After everything we've done for you, she says," she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What exactly has she done? What have any of them ever done for you? They wouldn't even speak to you until they needed something. Screw them all!"
Gratitude and affection flooded the man's heart. Her disappointment wasn't directed at him but at the villagers. However, her next question caught him completely off guard.
"Hey, what kind of name would you like?" A mischievous glint twinkled in her eyes.
"Huh? But... you can't..." he stammered, confused.
"Don't worry about it," the girl insisted, waving away his concerns with a carefree hand.
Exhaustion threatened to engulf the boy. His body and mind were pushed to their limit. He fell silent, battling the waves of fatigue threatening to pull him under.
Sensing his distress, the girl's expression softened. "You don't look good," she started, concern lacing her voice. "Just put the lantern down. It's okay."
"No! I could never!" The boy tightened his grip on the lantern, horror in his voice.
Undeterred, the girl pressed herself against him, her presence a comforting warmth in the cool night air. She patted her shoulder, a silent invitation. "Then at least rest your head here," she urged gently but persistently.
He tried to refuse, but she was relentless, her eyes pleading with him to accept her comfort.
Another year passed.
The Lightkeeper's strength continued its relentless retreat, his body and mind withering under the burden of his duty. The darkness pressed further into the village, mirroring the fear and rage that festered in the hearts of the villagers.
One night, he rested his head against the girl's shoulder while bathed in the lantern's flickering light.
The girl spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper. "Arthur," she breathed, her eyes filled with an emotion that sent a jolt through him.
"Huh?" Confusion creased the boy's gaunt features.
"Your name is Arthur," she repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
The boy gasped, a jolt of shock widening his eyes. He hushed her voice, lowering his own to a nervous whisper. "You can't do that. You know what'll happen if someone hears you!"
"Just be quiet, Arthur," the girl murmured. With that, she leaned in and kissed him unexpectedly, her lips soft and warm against his own.
Tears streamed from his eyes, emotions crashing over him as he finally allowed himself to feel the weight of her words. He'd never dared to dream of a name, of being more than a tool. And yet, here she was, the one he loved, reciprocating his feelings with the greatest gift he could ever receive.
The girl held him close, her arms wrapping around him in a comforting embrace as she allowed him to cry, his tears soaking into the fabric of her shirt.
Then, she began to sing a lullaby, her voice soft and melodic. She stroked his hair with a tender touch he had never known, a moment of pure comfort in a life devoid of rest.
He desperately tried to stay awake, clinging to the responsibility that had defined his existence, but exhaustion finally claimed him. His eyes fluttering closed, he surrendered to the warmth of her embrace.
The girl gently lowered his head into her lap, her fingers continuing their soothing strokes. Reaching with her other hand, she carefully lifted the lantern, preventing it from clattering to the ground and waking him. She quietly placed the lantern down, watching as the light flickered and dimmed, the darkness creeping closer as she stroked him softly.
Invisible in the growing darkness, for the first time, the Lightkeeper felt peace.
