Countdown

Summary: The millennium has begun. Warning, lots of tragedy and angst, with horror near the end.

Disclaimer: The Night world and all the associated characters and ideas belong to Ms Lisa Jane Smith. This is just what I think the millennium could be like. The song is not mine either, although I don't know that name of the person who owns it.

Just so's you know: the Characters of Blaise, Selene, and Vivienne (whom I have given voice to) appear in Enchantress, or Spellbinder if you live in the US. The song is the title song from the animated movie 'The Last Unicorn'.

When the last eagle flies

The eagles were the first to go, fleeing the all-devouring storms of fate in vain.

over the last crumbling mountain

The pathetic vermin even contributed to the destruction. No Nightworlder could climb the Ever-restful Mountains anymore without tripping over the corpses of idiotic overreaching climbers scattered like rubbish. On one of the only places that people can't survive, they've wrecked it for those who would use it as a refuge.

And the last lion roars

The predator snarls in its lonely cage, but its pleas for freedom fall on deaf ears. Is a lion still a lion when it is no longer the king of the beasts to be feared and worshipped, now cast down from its throne, or is it simply a ghost from the past? Crying from the pain of so much fear and solitude and seeking retribution for the crimes committed against him, the last lion shakes his mane wearily in his cage and waits for death.

at the last dusty fountain

Even their own creations lie abandoned in the dust. The few truly beautiful vermin structures collapse slowly into pieces, never to be reassembled, no use now that they are outdated. In an urge to rebuild the universe to their liking they destroy its beauty.
In the shadow of the forest

Forests, now. Vermin really fear the forests. That's why there are hardly any left standing. Of the many creations of vermin that I hate, the chainsaw comes near the top of the list.

though she may be old and worn

The sadly deluded humans believe that the world will stay the same, forever and wherever, in spite of all the evidence. How stupid did they have to be, to try to change the world at the end of their ten-thousand years of peace from the other species. Or perhaps it was fated to happen, now that the arrogant yet weak humans were due to die.

Who knows?
They will stare unbelieving

They don't even hope for a miracle. In a hell of their own devising, their power is unravelling, and as powerful as they felt they were, they now just don't know what to do. Who can the gods pray to? They don't ask for deliverance, so they don't wait for the old magic to return, but watch the sun set over a fading world, not knowing if it will rise again. Why should they expect blessings from the angels? Gods of their own minds, they are lonely and scared indeed.

at the last unicorn

The old races are gaining power as the humans lose it. No-one knows why, but the vermins execution date is set, and soon a purifying wave of blood and darkness will sweep by, returning power to those who hide in the shadows.

The ones who some think exist only in stories. The ancient monsters.

They are stronger, they are wiser, and they're coming.

The evil as well as the good.

When the first breath of winter

The portents had been rising for years. Even some humans could sense it. The lost witches certainly knew, but none could stop it. The only creatures who had the power to stop the trail of destruction weren't particularly inclined to heroics.

A pity.

through the flowers is icing

More people could be seencarrying black flower symbols. Some of them were even vermin! To make things worse, several of the gangs of Nightworlders had shucked their insignia, leaving no mark as to what they were. The flowers have lost their meanings to the tides of time, swirling farther out of reach each second.

And you look to the north

There are few of us left, we who dwelt in circles Midnight and Twilight. We are the unhappy souls who still see vermin where the daybreakers see people. We do not kill vermin, for food, rituals, or even sport, separating us from the vampires and lamia, shapeshifters and werewolves. Neither one nor the other, we sit back helpless, and we wait.

Wait for the end of the world.

and a pale moon is rising

The only hope for the future lies in circle Daybreak. But they are a small group, and very selective of whom they allow to enter their ranks. How can the fate of so many be entrusted to so few? They arethe hope for our futures, but there is nothing we can do to aid them. Many of us wouldn't even want to aid vermin lovers, seeing them as traitors. A light on a dark horizon, weak, darkness threatens from all sides.

And after all, no-one is supposed to save the world. Things have to end, and soon. It is fated to be.
And it seems like all is dying

Even we are being persecuted now. We, who are on everyones side, yet no-ones. Any witch that is seen is automatically identified as a Daybreaker, and all Daybreakers are under attack. I am the only member of my family left, and only two of my friends remain. Even if daybreak wins, we may not live to see the victory.

and would leave the world to mourn

My mother and younger sister both died together, shopping for supplies for a spell. They were mobbed by vampires. Five people came to the funeral, myself included. It wasn't safe to be out. As far as my father is concerned, he could be one of three male witches, all of whom are dead. My friends have also lost family. No-one is considered too innocent to die. Children, crones, new mothers heavy with child. All of us are slain for who we are, and for not allying ourselves with the Night world council. There are not enough people left to weep for the fallen.

And still we wait. Wait for a battle to end the world, and wait to see if we can survive that long.
In the distance hear the laughter

The first of the new generation of babies was born today. The mother figures all knew that it was imperative to bring the population back up to scratch.

I don't know what I was expecting. A peachy skinned cherub with vacant does eyes, possibly. It was a real surprise for me to see it. Him. I must call it him. He was only vaguely human. He looked more like some mischievous imp, with his sparse hair plastered to his slimy, bloated, misshapen head. His limbs seemed to be crafted of childrens putty, and he was a blotchy red and white colour. The biggest surprise, however, was in his eyes. Slitted against the light, they nevertheless sought out our gazes, pinning each of us down in turn. The expression in them was one of overwhelming sorrow and pity. These were eyes that saw into our hearts. Finally it…he… turned away from us with a quiet but nevertheless powerful yawn.

All of the crones gathered around him, cooing like maidens. A new life born in this turmoil! We could only hope that he'd survive the millennium.

of the last unicorn

The mother of the baby is dead. She was killed by a Shifter yesterday. The boy is all alone now.

We all are.
I'm alive, I'm alive

Meanwhile, the Millennium draws ever closer. Those that are still alive wonder, would it be so bad to forget? To drink from the cup of Lethe? At least we would only be targeted as the humans are, a single face in the multitudes. And we would have the protection of Daybreak and no fears for our future existence.

But to become vermin, no more than humans or rats, would be the ultimate disgrace.

For now, we stay as we are.

For now, we are alive.

When the last moon is cast

One month until the year two thousand and I look around at the wreckage. The hole in the ozone has grown. The animal attacks have increased exponentially. The diseases have multiplied and to top it all, the vermin are more convinced than ever that the future will be great.

Of the twenty seven pregnant mothers in the area, only six survived to give birth and only one has survived past it. Two of the protected babies later died in attacks. The truth is there are not enough of us to continue the old families, even if the conditions we are facing ease off. The witches are dying out, and it may be that the vermin follow us soon after. In the light of the moon, the ghost ship 'Life' sails to the edge of the planet, not knowing if it will drop to its doom or simply run out of rations, but understanding it can not return to its home port, ever.

over the last star of morning

I take a walk in the cold sharp air of night, all on my own. I feel my hair twisting, flowing in the breeze. I used to pretend that it was alive when I went for walks on nights like this. Now I know better. In the old days… (hark at me! Speaking like a crone already! Tragedy ages a person almost as much as time itself) back then, you couldn't leave the house on a dark night without bumping into a dozen or so twilight twits -that want to write poetry to the moon or pick herbs that could be found more easily in sunlight anyway- a few crones out for the fresh air and the company of others like them, and even some of the more cruel minded members of circle Midnight out to perform rituals that they know would be frowned upon even by their own circle.

Now the landscape is bleak and empty. The stars still shine down, but no-one is there to see them. I feel the utter hopelessness and I can't help breaking down into tears, the wrenching feeling in my heart too much to bear. I fear these will be the last tears I will ever shed.
And the future has passed

A solar eclipse is due next week. The vermin are so excited, it seemed to come out of nowhere, due to arrive the night of the millennium. Our time is coming. Our execution date is set.

without even a last desperate warning

One of my last two remaining friends, Selene, retains a strong belief that it will be alright in the end. I cannot share in her innocent optimism. Deep down, I know. Deep down, I know she knows. I do not know what will happen next, but I know that it will be the worst horror imaginable.
Then look into the sky where through

This morning my other friend Blaise put voice to our shared fears. She was always good at that. She said that this was the end. It tore me apart. For the last time, the three of us sat together and watched the sun rise, casting rays of light across the sky, straight roads to nowhere. If Blaise is going to sit and take it without protest, there is no hope after all.

After a while I can hear the wind whistling over the bare ground. Like my mother showed me, I breathe with the music, joining in. It was her favourite trick, and she tried to teach it to me. Singing her magic to the winds. She said that you could send your spirit soaring, carried through the air to any destination. I feel that if I can follow where she led, I can somehow reach her, be one with her spirit, make her proud. I hear her voice still ringing faintly in the echoes, but all it reminds me is of just how alone we really are.

Selene, ever-calm and cheerful, noticed my sorrow. She invited Blaise and I for a sleepover at her house for the last time. Tonight is the last night. We went to bed early. I don't think any of us wanted to see midnight. We couldn't face it.

the clouds a path is torn

Early in the morning, I hear screams. These are not horror movie screams with cheesy background music. These are hysterical, breathless, real. I drag my eyelids apart painfully, and instantly see the problem. Or rather, I don't. For the first time, I see nothing. I hear a clicking sound, like someone flicking a light-switch, but no lights come on. There is always a small amount of light that filters in through the curtains, except now there isn't, though I squint my eyes. I blunder, panic-blind, to the windows and tear the curtains away from each other so forcefully I rip them apart in a literal sense, but though the breeze stings my eyes, I see no stars, no street-lamp that sits outside. All the while, the screams have been rising, to a pitch and volume I thought impossible for people who don't want their lungs torn our by sheer effort. I expected Selene to scream, she's quite sensitive normally, but by the tone of it, it's not Selene at all, but Blaise! I start to try to say something calming, I don't quite know what, just anything that works, when a tear that I don't remember crying runs into my mouth. I freeze. It tastes like…

My brain finally listens to what my nose has been saying for many minutes. There is a sickly-sweet metallic smell. In my panic it smells almost like rotten fish, but I know that it is nothing of the sort. It is the same thing that was still flowing from my eyes. My eyes that cannot see though I open them wide, my eyes that feel heavy with pollen and sleep. I too start to scream. Tears of coppery tasting liquid rubies leave trails down my face, filling my mouth. All I can think of is the fear, and then I lose even that thought.

In Blood and in Darkness…
Look and see her how she sparkles,

I do not know how much time has gone by. I can hear many sounds, but since they all blur together I can't even tell anything by them. The tears of blood make my face feel sticky and unclean. I need to wash my face. I'm not sure if this thought is me getting back to normal, or yet another stage of hysterics. I force myself to believe that it's a good sign. I'm no longer screaming, after all. I want to be able to go downstairs, clean off, fix a snack and fetch drinks, but I can't. I feel limp and weak, like all of my life has drained away. Then I remember how my sisters tantrums used to affect her, and realise that I've probably just worn myself out with my screams. Nevertheless, I can't seem to get up. I can guess it feels much the same to be a vermin after being fed upon by a vampire. A merciful vampire, as I seem to still be alive. Or maybe this is what it feels like to have one of those diseases that destroy you from the inside. All I know is that I am completely helpless, because I cannot help myself.

And then I see it.

Blue lights, dancing, more in my mind than my eyes. Flickering sapphire flames playing around the outlines of my friends. The lights shifting around Selene are almost still, dying embers, beyond help, beyond hope. I realise why she didn't scream. She must have been already dead. I force myself to turn to where Blaise was captured in flames, newsprung from the earth, young, powerful and angry. The image stirs. She turns her head towards me, and in that instant I know she sees me too. She stands up, stumbling towards me, her fire leaping for joy.

And I know that Daybreak has arrived, beating back the darkness.

its the last unicorn

As we wipe away the tracks of dark, light absorbing tears from each others faces, I look at the last of the Harman line. The light does not paint a portrait of her, but instead shows her spirit, complete with all of the emotions she normally keeps so well hidden. It is almost like a Japanese form of comics, Manga, which was popular amongst the vermin in my class for a while. Every emotion can be read from a single look into her glowing eyes. I can see the way she's standing, and I can also see flames like ghost images, picturing her dancing for joy. The shadowy objects around her reflect the dancing light, even though they are even less bright than those of poor Selene. It is a world where everything is shown as it truly is, thoughts, feelings, wishes and all.

I'm alive, I'm alive

It is now a couple of weeks after the millennium, and I can see a few shades of green and purple amongst the blue, though the flames still flicker with the same vigour as I first saw them. I think, given time, I may even get a full spectrum. Wouldn't that be a sight to see? A rainbow firework up close, completely safe to handle!

The vermin officials have explained away this new 'disease' and might even forget it ever happened. They still have wars to start, after all. I don't know how people could ever forget that we weren't always living fireworks, and that people didn't always have fiery shadows revealing all their emotions to follow them. Maybe they will, given time, edit them out of their memories, so that they won't be able to see them. Maybe this will be the new witch-sight, that only the open minded can see. Who knows? All that matters is that they are destroying the planet like before, so everything is hunky-dory.

I don't know what will happen to the witches. I doubt that we will last much longer, as there are so few of us left. Maybe we will finally give in, mix our bloodlines with the humans. I do know that for now, tomorrow, next week, next year, for now and for the immediate future, I, Vivienne Moriggan, am alive, and I intend to stay so, too.

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