Giving Way to the Light

Prologue

Prologue:

I am the night.

...

Okay, I'm sorry, that was a little dramatic, even for me, but that really is the best way to try and describe me. I have many names; none of them are my real name; none of them are even particularly nice names.

I have been called a Grim Reaper, The Dark Angel, Bringer of Death, Monster of Darkness, Blackest Night, Ruler of Fear, The Screaming Banshee, Bringer and Protector of Hallows Eve... you get the picture. Truth is, none of these names really do me justice. In reality, I am a Guardian. Obviously I wasn't always a Guardian, but I was always misunderstood.

I bet you can guess why.

I was human once, a long time ago. I used to argue that I still am human, but I know better now. Now I am something else. A decidedly dark creature with a dark personality and a dark purpose, but, in the end, a light heart.

I have to have a light heart if I am to be the Guardian of Life.

Surprised? You should be. Don't believe me? You wouldn't be the first. That isn't my name though. When I was born over a thousand years ago, my mother called me Nadine. That isn't my name any more though. It hasn't been since the day I died and was reborn exactly 1003 years and 8 months ago. But who's counting?

I died when I was only 19 years old. Back then, I was considered old enough to wed and should have already been raising at least five children. And I did want kids (wasn't to fond about the husband part at the time, and I wasn't sure I wanted so many, but I did love children); but no-one wanted to marry the barren woman. The irony, right? For that, I was an outcast, seen as cursed by my family and friends alike. Infertility was seen as a curse from the gods- a bad omen. So my life was kind of miserable. 

And then I died. 

I don't remember how, so don't ask me. After that the Moon found me and put me back together. Something must have gone terribly wrong though. He named me, told me I had some glorious purpose, and told me to find my new home and start my new life. Then he never spoke to me again. It doesn't bother me too much though, he seemed kind of bossy anyway.

...

Okay, so it bothered me a lot. Why waste so much energy and magic doing the impossible ("It's... ALIVE!") and then abandon me completely with nothing but a name and a friendly suggestion? For 5 years I lived in the fear that I was a mistake and that the Man in the Moon would, I don't know, hurl a lightning bolt at me and thus snuff me from existence. Eventually I learned to harden myself against such fears. I followed his advice and learned how to control the "gifts" he had bestowed upon me.

My gifts. They're rather... strange in themselves. Very much supernatural, definitely paranormal, and very.... What did Bunny call me?

Oh yeah. Bloody Creepy.

I found a new home for myself just like he told me to. It was a small cobblestone palace that I had built all by myself (and it only took me 53 years to finish). I also became the founder of a very peculiar town. At first the... people... who lived there called it the Hollow. Now we call it Halloween Town.

Bet that struck a chord with you, didn't it? You wouldn't by chance know anything about "The Pumpkin King" would you? Goes by the name Jack Skellington? I created him. Sort of. Not in the way that the Man in the Moon created me (I accidentally turned him into a giant skeleton for crying out loud), but similar in a way. I simply returned his soul to his body.

I know that sounds really bad, but it was an accident, I swear! I had only been 97 years old at the time, trying out my somewhat new and still mostly uncontrollable powers, most of which I don't even understand to this day. I was trying to contact his Wandering spirit, guide him to the Bright Light or what ever the deceased called it these days. I apparently pulled a little to hard and shoved his soul right back into his decomposing body. He was pretty cool about it though. Unbelievably so actually.