Magra put out her fist as if she were holding something. “So Sud swept her hand into the great volcano, pulling out drops of bubbling lava. Then she shrank herself into human form and watched the people as they struggled to find food and to keep themselves safe from the ice tribe.”
She opened her hand and spread her fingers as if she were bestowing a gift. “‘Here,’ the goddess said to a chieftain who ruled a tribe in the desert. ‘Take this lava and use it to melt the ice of your enemies. Whoever defies you shall be burned. Then you will need to fight no more.’ She put the drop of lava into the wrist of the chieftain, and the vein bubbled hot. The man’s body warmed and his hair turned red. He raised his hand and cast fire at all his enemies, and no one dared defy him.”
Magra made a sweeping gesture, her long sleeve billowing out, and the children shrank back, as if fire might spring from her fingers.
“Over time, the other tribes made alliances with frost or fire, the Fireblood and Frostblood leaders having reached a truce. Each claimed their lands on the earth. Maps were drawn, and the people found peace.”
She paused as if that were the end of the story, and the listeners seemed to hold their breath.
“But Eurus, god of the east wind, was filled with envy. He went to Neb, the mother of the winds, to complain. He wanted to create his own creature. Neb was tired of her children fighting, so she declared there must be balance in all things. Whatever Eurus made, his sister Cirrus, goddess of the west wind, would have to make the opposite.”
She held her hands palms up as if they formed two sides of a scale.
“Eurus, excited and filled with purpose, swept his hand into the depths of the ocean, down, down to the darkest shadows in the deepest caves. He pulled out a handful of absolute darkness, then, sure that he had found the best gift of all, shrank himself into human form and watched the tribes as they struggled under the rule of frost and fire. ‘Here,’ he said to a powerful shaman. ‘Take this darkness and use it to erase all of your suffering—you will never feel pain again.’ He put the darkness into the man’s wrist and the vein turned black. But instead of finding relief, the man fell to the ground, writhing in pain and begging for mercy. In minutes, he was dead.”
The eyes of the younger boys grew round. Kaitryn leaned forward.
“Eurus tried over and over again, but no one could survive his sweet oblivion. So the god of the east wind divided and sprinkled his darkness over the world, and wherever it fell, a shadow came to life.”
She lowered her voice until it was eerie and soft. Fine hairs rose on the back of my neck. “But the shadows were hungry. They devoured the animals and people and were never satisfied. And if a shadow, called a Minax, took a special liking to you, it would seep beneath your skin, turning your eyes and your blood black. You’d become vicious and wild, cunning and bloodthirsty, eager to do its bidding and lose yourself in its blissful darkness.”
I rubbed the back of my neck with my hand, trying to erase the chill that danced down my spine. From the day I’d been taken to Blackcreek Prison, I’d had nightmares about a living shadow, the most frightening part of the old stories preying on my fear and isolation. In the dreams, a dark shape would touch my cheek in a painful, blistering caress. I’d wake up shaken and terrified.
“It was a dark time,” said the storyteller. “But the creatures weren’t allowed to roam free for long. Cirrus, the goddess of the west wind, who loved peace above all things, made a hole in the earth. She forced the living shadows into the darkness below and created a Gate of Light at the entrance, which the Minax could not pass through.”
Magra opened her hand to the sky. “Then Cirrus swept her hand into the vivid sunset and snatched a ray of light, which she trapped in a crystal. She shone the light onto two mountains, changing them into sentinels and putting them to sleep until called on to guard the Gate if it ever fell under attack. Finally, she called the fiery chieftain and the icy warrior woman and commanded them to mix their frost and fire to help her seal the Gate.”
“I bet they fought,” said one of the boys.
“No, they didn’t,” Magra said. “They worked together because that was what the goddess wanted. Exhausted from her labors, she fell to earth. A wisewoman called Sage took Cirrus to her mountain cave and fed her broth and meat and nursed her back to health. In gratitude, Cirrus put the last bit of sunset from the crystal into Sage’s wrist, turning her blood and hair to gold. After that, she could heal the sick and see danger before it happened. She is the third sentinel guarding the Gate of Light, and she won’t die until the last Minax is destroyed.”
“But the shadows are all trapped underground,” Kaitryn said.