The Final Day.

"What have you done?!"

They stand by his sides, eyes widened. The amount of darkened crimson that drips down his claws brings them both to a severe state of nausea. They have never seen so much of that substance before.

"What do you mean?" He looks at them, and they find the blinding stare of his red eyes too much to bear. "What do you mean 'what have I done'? Is it not visible to you?"

His response is enough to let them know that he knows what he's done. And he knows that it isn't what he promised. And he's upset.

He has been upset for days now.

"Brother," says Christopher, moving closer despite his inner fear of being crushed by the sharp-as-steel talons of his sibling, "Why have you done this?"

Red huffs through his monstrous black teeth. "If," he begins, "the child that I have made a promise to... is gone... then why should I... keep the promise?"

He spaces out each and every one of his words, his throat burning and stinging. The guilt of what he's done dribbles down his back, yet he does not care. The child is gone, and he had no reason to keep the promise he made her.

He is upset.

His brothers can only stare as he disappears into wisps of darkness, into the veiled night. They want to cry.

They have tried to make this world as perfect as it could possibly be, even with the destruction brought upon it by the earlier stages of humanity. They have tried to let everyone rest and let the Shadows rule and let the soothing sunlight heal the Earth.

But it is all in vain now.

Red has never been so upset before. Never. Only in the instance of The-Child-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken and in the instance of William. The-Child-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken was a poor, terrible, horrifying failed experiment of theirs that only resulted in their first time of seeing a human child wither away. The horrifying part was that they had to watch.

William has been gone for almost 20 years now. Though some claim that they see his reflection in the waters, his burning light shining through the trees, he has been gone.

They have never seen their brother in such a state of misery and grief. How could they ever fix this?

To bring her back.

How can they ever bring her back?

It is impossible. Red has "brought back" William by imagining that he still exists (they have tried to no avail to convince him that the boy is gone), but he has not actually brought him back. William has been dead for 20 years, and he will not be brought back.

The-Child-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken was a much worse experience. The Shadows have adjusted to fit their brothers' attitudes: if one ever mentions The-Child-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken, they will receive a terrified rant in return.

Christopher and Blake worry for their brother.

And they worry for their world.

It is in pieces, now. It is drenched in that substance because of him. Human life is no longer resting in its placid peace; instead, it is in shatters. And all because of him.

They thought he had integrity. Because once upon a time, he did have it.

Now his integrity is gone.

And she is gone, too.

"What shall we do?" They whisper to each other in hushed tones, worried looks crossing their faces. Surrounding them is that substance. Surrounding them is an empty, washed-out world that they wish they could fix. Surrounding them is their own sense of hopelessness.

What can they do?

Christopher and Blake leave the darkness behind them, feet trampling over the dead leaves and crippling grass beneath them, making their way toward the Remembrance. The Remembrance- perhaps humans called it a cemetery- is a lighted place atop the mountain where stones are set into the ground to remember those who have passed away. There are only two stones buried so far.

The-Child-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken has a burial stone there. As does William, though no one accepts that he is gone.

Christopher, sighing, knows that his brother only harms others when he is grieving. It happened with the Child. It happened with William.

And it happened with her.

The Shadows, each and every one of them, gather around the two brothers. Blake sets the stone into the dirt with a certain kind of grace, staring at the words engraved in it. All of them stand in contemplative silence, their eyes fixated upon the letters that cast a deep, unbearable sense of what-had-gone-so-wrong? into their hearts.

-KLOEY-

-First and last human child to believe in the goodness of the Shadows-

-11-

From afar, Red can hear the Shadows' concentrated hum. They sing their slow, sullen song, and he listens, though his mind is elsewhere. He listens, though he feels guilt and sorrow linger inside of him.

She told him he could be "good."

And is... is he really so good, if this is what he has done?

***

ART THANKS TO DREAM AI