Twilight.
They say it's dark and oppressive: full of cold, ugly malice. But that's not true, that's not the real twilight.
Her twilight.
I walk the streets of Castle Town, familiar uneven cobblestones beneath my feet now, against the pads of my paws then. I am alone; forgotten and unknown in this world I thought I once knew, once loved. But now there is none of that: there is only the feeling of missing something – missing what wasn't ever truly welcome here to begin with.
Shadows frolic at my feet, effortlessly gliding across the ground and weaving about in a graceful dance. They play. Play with one another free of worry, free of troubles and emotion. They don't have any of that and never did. They don't have feelings: ones of joy, fear, or anything else such as simple recollections of past events.
But I do. I have all of those – at least I did once. So I remember them. I remember it all: every moment we endured, every frightful battle we braved, and every exciting victory we shared. All the struggles, pain, happiness…
Love.
Maybe that was something only I felt, but I hoped she did too. I hoped she at least knew that I held it deep within, but then again, maybe I really don't. I don't want her to be pained, to know the burden of the truth I never spoke, the words she never finished that I so desperately wished she did, no matter how tormenting their unknown meaning. Then I desired for her to stay. Then I told myself maybe she would, stopping at the last possible moment and instead embracing what was right in front of her the entire time, right in front of her before forever hiding from it – from me.
My eyes are hollow, glazed over and devoid of even simple delight from the agony of it all. Heavy feet in heavy boots of mine fall hard; steps empty and unguided as I slowly walk past the children who run, their own strides light on the ground. For they are unknowledgeable of the events that passed, of the torment suffered at the expense of others. Instead they are carefree as they play, play like the shadows that dance about in the twilight, the evening glow before the darkness that swallows the day, bringing with it an end that leads to a new beginning with dawn and, much later, dusk upon the close of the light.
Laughs fill the air as the young and innocent rush past, smiles on their faces, expressions cheerful until the call of a mother breaks their reverie, summoning them to hide from the dark, the dimming light that ends their happiness; so naturally, they object. They scorn the twilight; despise the glow so very similar to that of another world, another beauty they can't love, it having never loved them in return. They don't accept it, appreciate the wonder that it holds or the potential for so much more carried beyond the light which shows in the coming darkness, bringing with it hope and not despair as many believe. I can't bear their disgust; their hatred towards something I so deeply desire to know of once again.
So instead I leave.
I step through the gateway, from one world to the next. But only if it were that simple, that easy to see her again; yet it is not what I am doing, as in truth I walk from the company of others, facing the harsh world outside the safety of the close-minded walls surrounding those who fear the night, fear what they do not attempt to understand.
No one misses me as I leave them all behind, for no one knows what I have done, but maybe that is right. Right just like their ignorance to the beauty before them that they openly reject, embracing instead the harsh light they covet.
I let my feet carry me to the ancient abandoned amphitheater, towards the glow I have come to know so well. For a time I simply stand atop the steps. Stand atop the stone beneath my feet, but eventually I settle down on the weathered grey rock that has witnessed many a beautiful sunset. It is worn like her mask of cursed magic was, worn like I am from all that has happened, all that I have endured and all the frail fragments of what she has left me with.
My shadow.
It is the one thing that remains of her, one part of me which still holds hope that it wasn't all merely a dream, that maybe, just maybe, she will come back at this very moment. As I look to the silhouette, I wait for it to slip from the ground, for her form to hover before my battle worn figure, speaking words not of kindness yet still comforting.
But no matter how I long I wait, she does not come to ease the painful loneliness.
I tear my sight from my shade, knowing the dream is futile, as I now look outward into the distance. The light of the evening, of the oranges and reds and yellows of the twilight before me captivates my gaze; that of which is opposite the bright sky of day, opposite her, which in turn is opposite me once more.
I continue to look, possibly a fragment of happiness clinging to me, clinging to the frail wish that not all is lost, yet I know it is, so I let that joy go, for I am and always will be sorrow forevermore. Although what is before me is twilight, the familiar glow of her world, her beauty…
It isn't her twilight, and it never was.
I cry.
I don't care if I am seen fragmented and dejected; I gave up caring when she left me behind, left me here in the painfully bright light I only wish to hide from now. Hide from like she did; abandoning me in the harsh realm that I thought I once knew and not the kind soft glow of her own that held me tenderly, not tightly like that of the world around me does now.
My tears fall, wet from my face and glowing like that of hers, as the single sparkling light of many meanings drifted in the evening glimmer of the Mirror Chamber; shimmering along the cracks that radiated outward from my heart, shattering me and all I had come to understand, instead leaving what remained in a state of confusion, fear, and eternal pain while all I could do was watch, broken then and broken now. She no longer by my side to pick up the pieces left behind, forgotten and uncared for while they were left to crumble further into nothingness.
I call for her; voice echoing roughly in the nihility that is my surroundings, hollow empty air around me, eyes much too damp to see even that of which is right before me in this moment. Although it isn't her twilight, I continue to look at it through the blur of tears, longing for some sort of comfort, warmth given off by the serene glow that reminds me of the one who was by my side for so long. It all brings back her world, her gaze.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll see her in this twilight that is just beyond my reach. See her in the twilight here before me now as I look off into the sky, the eternal, ethereal sky.
I don't see its ugliness now. I never did. I only saw the difference; the inverse of what is comfort, what is familiar. Instead of rejecting the unknown, the unloved, I had come to treasure it and all that wasn't cared for by others. In turn, it showed me its own splendor; its own unique allure that was hidden deep within for so long, waiting for one who would take a moment and stop to think on what it may really mean.
Now with these tears on my face, the untrue twilight glow on my skin, all I can do is hope for her happiness, hope she sees the soft gleam around her and loves it – loves what many in the antithesis of her world have come to hate. It is the beauty I miss so; that of what was once here but never truly belonged.
Twilight.