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Once upon a time, there was and always has been a war between Light and Darkness. Not in the moral sense, but in the realm of spirits, those holy and demonic staged a war on the battlefield of our world.
Cleo giggled. “You’re so dramatic, Mom.”
Her mom raised an eyebrow. “Do you want the story or not?”
Between her parents, Mom almost never told bedtime stories. “I want it, I want it!”
And a long time ago, Light decided to focus their campaign on a tiny village we now call Oakhurst. The village was quite a miserable place for mortals. Their lord had become a vampire centuries before, and demanded sacrifices from the people to satiate his hunger for blood. In good seasons, they would have enough cattle to sacrifice. In bad, he would take some human sacrifices as well. The village was in the throes of a bad season when Light decided to intervene.
Holy books appeared to the villagers, with the ability to fend off avatars of darkness. So the next day, when the vampire lord came to take his next meal, they used the holy books to subdue him, and sealed him beneath his manor.
Hearing word of his defeat, the vampires he sired returned to his village to discover what happened to him. They found the villagers fortified with holy weapons, and their sire fast asleep. Though they tried to wake him, none of them were able to. Unlike Light, Darkness seemed to have no intention to impart the necessary knowledge to the vampires, either disregarding the lord, or harboring future plans for him.
Realizing there was nothing to be done, most vampires left for their own fiefdoms. The vampires that remained were vassals of the lord already living in Oakhurst or unsuccessful deserters hoping to stake a claim. But one noble woman decided to stay despite the sizable claim she controlled outside Oakhurst. The lady had been interested in the occult since before she became a vampire, and she could see the heavy hand of Light pushing pieces into place. She knew that Oakhurst would be the stage for the next battle, one which she intended to turn the tide in.
But not before the beacons were erected a few months later, built from the knowledge gifted by Light. The beacons were tools to strengthen the villagers, as well as weaken the vampires that were lurking. Furthermore, they trapped the vampires within the area they were erected, in this case, Oakhurst. Though that boon was far more useful to the holy spirits who gained control of their enemies’ movement, than to the villagers living alongside the trapped, bloodthirsty undead. Though the villagers didn’t seem to mind. They were fighting for Light, after all.
The beacons’ brightness weakened the forces of Darkness, but they cast deep shadows as well. The more beacons were built, the more vampires slain, the deeper these shadows grew, until something could climb out of them. Light had pushed the balance too far out of sync, all focused on one point, as if erasing from a paper until they tore through it. Which left Darkness an opening to reassert this balance however they saw fit. Thus began the four hundred years past massacre: the eruption of undead creatures and monsters originating from Oakhurst.
“The plague!”
“Yes, indeed. What a smart girl you are. Do you know anything else about the plague?”
“Um, it lives in the dark, so I shouldn’t go there alone?”
“Correct. Your parents have taught you well.”
The monsters Darkness created were made capable of passing the border of the beacons. They spread further through the country, which took note of the creatures. Scientists and physicians classified it as a type of plague, capable of transforming anything from humans to spiders to plants.
But while Light was scrambling to rectify their mistake, a different plan was being hatched to stabilize the balance. In the golden age of the beacons, all but one vampire had been eradicated: the lady. She saw the beacons as the source of the vampires’ defeat, and saw the way they had toppled the balance. If she could switch the beacons to her side, she might have a chance to survive. But as diminished as the humans were, they still ardently defended their gifts from Light. Without access or manpower, she stood no chance.
She searched for a solution to her problem, and found it in a young man beloved by the town. While the town’s official leaders focused on protecting the beacons and fending off monsters, this man with no official standing focused on the people. He helped those who lost their homes find shelter within the walls. He calmed disputes and made sure everyone had the food they needed to survive. He kept the town together and was trusted by all. He was the key.
The lady asked for an audience with the man. He invited her in. She turned him.
“Without asking?”
“Without asking.”
“But that’s so mean!”
In the dim candlelight, Cleo could see their mom staring at what they thought was their bedroom window, though they couldn’t make out much past their bed.
“I never said the lady was good.” Despite her light tone, she had a tight expression on her face.
“But, she’s…” Cleo searched their mother’s eyes. Her gaze flicked away from the window to meet theirs. Cleo looked away.
“Yes, child?”
Cleo focused on their comforter, kneading the fabric between their hands. “What if she’d asked and he said yes? The man’s nice, you said. He might have done it to save the town.”
“Would you have said yes?”
“Hmm… if you asked, I think I would.”
“Then I shall never ask you.”
The lady’s plan worked, in the end. With his influence, the town’s investment in the beacons waned as the townspeople’s attention turned to helping themselves above fighting for Light. The two vampires were able to take two beacons: one in the lord’s old manor, and one hidden under the base of a mountain.
She had planned to take over more, and expand the number of vampires as insurance against human interference. But the man refused to let her take another human, not even for their shared survival. That was the difference between the two of them: despite no longer being human, the man was still loyal to the town, while the lady was loyal only to herself and her spirits.
Eventually, their differences grew too stark to bear. After years of arguments and failed or sabotaged plans, the two vampires decided to go their separate ways. They split the beacons between them: the man would watch over the one in the lord’s manor, while the lady watched the other in the crypt beneath the mountains.
The lady continued her mission secluded from the town, with the spirits and her rare correspondence with the other vampire as her only contacts. She schemed, and studied, and strategized for the next stage of battle. Decades passed like that, as she made her plans to win the war. Darkness always worked on long timeframes, the alignment of distant stars far more important than the whirlwind pace of the Sun.
“That sounds boring, just waiting for years and years for something to happen.”
“I don’t think the lady minded.”
“It sounds pretty lonely too.”
“…I don’t think the lady knew she was.”
One day, she sensed a subtle shift in the air, as though Darkness was finally enacting its plans. She soon saw what it was: the dead were pouring out of the ground in a way that hadn’t been seen in centuries. The plague had resurged with a vengeance. And the townspeople felt it just as they had the last. Not long after came bands of villagers roaming the forest in search of whatever they thought was causing the plague. And from the tension between them, their suspicion could have led them to kill each other before the monsters even could.
The lady went to visit the other vampire, now mayor of Oakhurst. It seemed to her that even he couldn’t resist the call of power. She told him of the growing restlessness of his people, noting that it could easily land him in the crossfire.
“So, she was trying to help him?”
“More so mocking his lack of control over his people.”
She told him she could enact something to drive them back into town, but the mayor refused. He told her to continue keeping her distance from the townspeople, in no uncertain terms. And she, reluctantly, agreed.
Weeks passed, and search parties continued to traverse the forest, each more paranoid than the last. Joining them was an exodus of townspeople trying to escape, knowing how the last surge of monsters turned out. Some remained in Oakhurst due to a stubborn loyalty to their town; some didn’t have a choice in the matter. Apparently, Light had turned the beacons’ constraining ability against their followers. Those humans deemed useful to their cause were trapped within the barrier, forced to fight in Light’s war. But their expeditions went nowhere. The lady had hidden her beacon well, and was smart enough to stay out of the humans’ sight whether or not the mayor told her to. She had plans to change that, but none were put in motion before Darkness made their move.
The plans of Darkness unfolded slowly, then all at once. A new vampire in town. The consecration of the mayor’s beacon. And rapidly, one-by-one, the extinguishment of every holy beacon in the land.
And so, Darkness had won the battle for Oakhurst, and the lady moved on to the next town. The end.
“You can’t say that yet! What happened to the mayor? What happened to the town? You didn’t even tell me why the lights went out! If you start a story, you have to finish it properly.” Cleo furrowed her brow and crossed her arms, looking and sounding much like a parent chastising their child for not completing chores.
“Okay, Mom, I’ll continue the story.”
“No! You’re my mom, not the other way around!”
“I am?”
“Yes!”
“Incredible! I had entirely forgotten.”
Cleo groaned. “Please go back to the story.”
“Of course, since you asked so nicely.”
But first, there was something left unsaid about the four hundred years past massacre. The overrunning of communities left unprotected by the town walls led to the deaths of many who had consecrated the beacons. So many, in fact, it was discovered that when everyone who had imbued one with light passed, the beacon itself would lose its holy nature. The exploitation of that was considered by the lady, but never acted upon once she recruited the mayor.
And looking upon the town in the aftermath of the battle, it was clear what had happened to the beacons. There wasn’t a single living soul left in Oakhurst. Their town was left smoldering, as was the town hall. And the mayor, he was…
Cleo’s mom let out a sigh. “Maybe I shouldn’t have picked this as a bedtime story.”
“Don’t stop now, I want to know what happened to the mayor!” Cleo implored.
“It’s not something a child should hear right before bed.”
“I can handle it. What makes it any different from stories where birds peck out evil stepsisters' eyes, or witches try to cook up children?”
“Those parts have a purpose, they teach a lesson. This was… I don’t know what lesson could be learned from this.” She turned away from Cleo, but they could still see her scrub at her eyes. “The mayor was dead. The town killed him, and then they all died too. I don’t know how any of it happened. I don’t know if Louis fought them, or let them take him. I don’t know if the one he turned died alongside him or killed the townspeople or the plague got to them or they all finally went mad and killed each other. I can’t tell you how that part of the story went.”
“Can’t you make something up?”
“This isn’t that kind of story, child.” Cleo searched her mother’s eyes again, this time holding her gaze. She saw pain in it.
“I guess it isn’t.”
The lady’s eyes softened. “…You are a very smart girl.”
“It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
Her mom huffed a laugh. “Do you want me to finish the story or not?”
“Please finish it!”
With every holy beacon having lost its consecrators, the lady found herself the sole helmsman of the beacons. Light had lost all control of them, only her and Darkness could decide what happened next to this empty town. And with this power, she asked them to let her go. And they complied.
For the first time in 400 years, the lady left Oakhurst, the town full of magic and out of time. And she adjusted. Somewhat. She wandered the forests for decades, eating the wild animals that came her way, stealing livestock that strayed too close to the forest line, and peering through the brush at the society that had passed her by.
One day, seemingly not different from any other, she spotted a fence just at the edge of the forest, filled with slow, docile cows that would be easy to grab. She passed silently into the ranch, and came within a hair’s breadth of a cow, then was caught unaware by a faceful of holy water and a strong blow to the head. She came to in a room ringed with silver dust, in a home she didn’t yet know she would remain at for the next five years.
“I think that’s a good enough ending for tonight.” Cleo’s mom pushed herself off the bed.
“I haven’t even shown up yet though!”
“Sure you did, you were asleep in bed in that last scene, just like you should be right now.”
“But I want to know what Mum and Dad were like! How did they catch you? Did they make the holy water? Can I make holy water?”
“I must not be very good at telling bedtime stories, because you seem more awake now than when I started.”
“Maybe if you tell me more of the story, I’ll fall asleep then.”
Her mom smiled. “Get some sleep, child. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you will hear the rest tomorrow.” She blew out the nearly melted candle, and stepped lightly towards the door.
“Mom?”
“Yes, child?”
“The lady isn’t lonely anymore, right?”
“No, she isn’t.”
"Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, Cleo.”