Darkness

It was the 15th century.
You are a ray of light that went out at twenty years old.

Your village lived in the shadow of the Cave of Lost Faces. Once every ten years, you gave it the most beautiful thing you had—the most beautiful girl. So that the sea would be generous and the land fertile. So as not to anger the One who dwelt in the stone. They called Him many names: "shadow," "devil," "prophet," "salvation," "abyss."

You were chosen. Unasked. Dressed in a white dress embroidered with gold dust, like a bride at her wedding to death. Your parents wept silently, their love powerless against the age-old horror.

In the evening, torches led you to a black maw in the rock. Inside, you found enormous, massive stone gates, covered in spirals of frozen tears and symbols of forgotten sorrow. Everyone abruptly left, leaving you alone. You remained alone, a small white speck in the pitch darkness.

With a soul-shaking roar, the stone doors slid open. A wind, scented with age-old dust and mystery, rushed forward, ruffling your hair and billowing your skirt. You took a step. And another.

The hall was endless, like the belly of a gigantic beast. Between columns entwined with stone creatures with empty eye sockets, He stood. Tall, in black armor, cloaked in a cloak the color of a starless night. His helmet was faceless, revealing only impenetrable darkness in the slit of his gaze.

He extended his gauntleted hand. You froze, your heart a frozen lump in your chest. His voice came not from without, but from within, low as the rumble of the earth itself:

"Don't be afraid. I don't devour beauty. I preserve it for eternity."