The Darkling's Truth

While we walk head to my brother's home, I suddenly feel a silent yet oddly physical discord between me and my brother, like a gentle hand, gently pushing me away from him, and then my vision blacks out.

A bright light shines through my eyelids and I see a person with their back to me, he stands straight and has a commanding aura flowing from him, yet he seems very familiar. He turns to me and I see that he has grey eyes, his hair is black-ish grey and, although his age seems to be around 21, he has the grim look of someone alive for centuries.

"Hello Kieraieda, I am known as Tartagus, I am the three hundredth and eighty-seventh Twila," he says looking at me with immense curiosity, "You are a very peculiar one indeed, I have seen hundreds of Twila in my ghosty existence, but never seen one as unique as yourself." He says I assume he is talking about my wings and my ability to come back after death.

"Your power, although impossible, are not the oddity here, it is the fact you were born as a Twila although you had zero Twilian Arts," He says anticipating that I knew what a "Twilian Art" is, and as if he read my mind he answers my unspoken question, "A Twilian Art is a power that all Twila should be reincarnated with, although you weren't born with one, at the age of 6 you were killed and with the blessing of one of the 7 Manifestations, you were granted Immortality by Death.

"This normally would have been impossible for a Twila, but it appears one of the great 7 had an interest in you. A Twilian Art is usually a kind of power like Telepathy, Teleportation, or even something like Telekinesis," His grueling lecture continues, "The possibilities are near endless, although a Twila cannot have more than one, and it is impossible for an ability to affect the lifespan of a Twila.

"Although when a Twila is born, which a Twila is born from the first stillborn twin after the death of the current Twila, the living twin, which must also be alive, gain the life of the Twila, and gains a life span of about a thousand years," He continues boring me out my literal ass, "This living twin is known as a Darkling, the bane of the Twila, and it is forbidden for you to be near this being, which is why I am here. You and your brother are both very peculiar, You were not born with the Twilian Art, but your brother was, he has the ability of Spiritual Projection, which means he can send his spirit into the spirit realm and converse with the dead."

At this point, I am not listening anymore and decide to focus more on the landscape around me, Clouds swirl under my feet instead of in the air, trees float upside-down in the sky, waterfalls flow up instead of down, I guess they should be called waterrises? Rain falls out of the ground and ascends into the air. Tartagus, furious due to the fact I am ignoring him, starts to yell at me.

"You selfish girl, I am here wasting my breath to help you survive as a Twila, yet here you are ignoring everything I am saying," his voice runs thick with impatience and it Is quite evident he is beyond pissed-off. "If you don't want to learn how to survive in the world as a Twila then I will gladly kill you if that is what you want." he threatens, "You are the last Twila in existence you can't just slack off, if you die and for some reason, you don't come back to life, it may be the end of the Twilian race."

Suddenly the world starts shaking, and the ground seems to shatter into millions of fragmented pieces and I fall into a white abyss, and then I blink and I am back next to my brother, time unchanged. In a few minutes, we show up at my brother's home.

It is very odd at the kind of style housing he has, he really must love infernos, I mean everything was burning, it was kinda... chaotic. My brother isn't thrilled though and he screams, huh, I guess it wasn't supposed to be on fire, what a bummer.

Suddenly a man dressed in black wielding a red-ish black steel claymore comes running at us sword raised over his head. My brother swiftly draws his silver and gold broadsword and effectively parries the man's strike.

The enemy swings a second time and this time when my brother parries it his silver broadsword goes flying, disarmed, the enemy soldier swings a follow-up strike, but before it hits, my instincts take over and I draw the black sword that I could have sworn I lost.

I counter his blow and with 3 swift strikes, I disarm and decapitate him. My brother, who is in awe at my display, stands up and thanks me for saving his life, then, desperate to rescue his home, he retrieves his sword and then rushes over to save it.

I just stand and watch, already knowing that the once beautiful home is gone, and my brother cuts down soldiers left and right, while his home is reduced to smothering ashes. I mean like seriously, why take out the fire when it is so beautiful to watch? That is like drawing a picture only to erase it seconds later.

"Why didn't you help?" My brother demands after he bitch-slaps me, "That was my home you watched burn to the ground." Yep, it is obvious that he is beyond pissed off, so his home was that valuable to him?

"I mean it was a beautiful fire, why take it out?" I say, gently rubbing the cheek he slapped, knowing that it will just piss him off more, I mean he looks cute when he is mad. He stares at me like I am an idiot, and then rolls his eyes.

"Sister, you are so utterly stupid, houses are not supposed to burn," he says his voice drawn out and exhausted as if he is on the edge of losing his mind, "That was where I lived, now it is gone, meaning we have nowhere to stay." And with that, he heads into the remains of his home looking for anything that might be salvageable.