Reverent

Reverent resented everything Revelous represented.

The she-dragon held potential, more than nearly anyone else at the Institute, and yet she chose to waste her time essentially babysitting. She was supposed to be better than that. She was the Golden child, the Rising Sun, the Vanquisher of Night. She was a Sundrop, quite literally, and her future glowed.

It also burned across the sky like hellfire when she fell.

Reverent felt it boil in his blood. They all did. All the Moonchildren that sat on their haunches waiting for word from their commanders felt the shift ripple across their consciousness. And, as one, they all turned to him, hissing and spitting and filled with rage.

The Mission was sacred. The Mission was unquestionable. They all had it branded into their souls, into the core of their being. Anomalies had to be stopped. No matter the cost. No matter the sacrifice. There was too much at risk to become attached to something that was halfway into the void. That was holding the door open and letting the cold darkness seep in.

They'd all sworn it as they willingly forfeited their magic. They'd let the gaping void into their souls and wrestled it down with the strength of their will alone. They'd blinked back into awareness, stained and hollow eyed, but alive. Or they'd fall, lost to the screeching silence of the void, the Shade, or whatever horrors wormed their way into their new vessel.

Those were locked away and never spoken of, useful only and bait. As a tempting little morsel to draw out the bigger Nightmare.

And then there were some that became Chosen. Moonchildren. Sundrops. Starseers. The glorified minion, their commanders, and the seers that owed allegiance to none.

Reverent had barely made it, sputtering and drowning in the inky darkness that bubbled from his maw. Feverish and half delirious, he'd snapped at anyone that drew near, unable to tell friend from foe. And he heard them. A hundred voices, a thousand whispers, all saying the same thing.

Safe. Rest.

And he did.

When he next awoke, it was to a feeling of warmth and calm. The loss of his magic didn't bother him; he was part of something bigger. Something ancient. Something cold and calm and resolute. The moon had gazed into his soul and found it worthy. And he'd been counted as one of them. He could feel them, lingering in the shadows, curious and innumerable, across all continents. They welcomed him and he turned his gaze to the cosmos.

He'd met Revelous not long after. Another newly Chosen, only she was chosen by the sun. She was blinding. Confidant and brash and looking for a Companion. They were all drawn to her, basking in the light, in the same way the moon yearns for the sun.

It was only to be expected and Reverent was helpless to fight the pull. He'd never expected her gaze to land on him or for her smile to widen as she gestured him over. The rest was a blur- he barely remembered their Contract or the Price she was to pay for his service. All he remembered was the rush of magic that filled his veins, siphoned off and reflected in his scales.

He orbited her. Kept track of her journals and records and all around became her right hand. In his letters back home he reflected her deeds, though they paled in comparison to seeing her in action. Revelous excelled at tracking down rifts and stitching them shut- at healing the wounds in the aether and mopping up the spilled ichor.

And then the Eclipse happened. The moon, swollen and bloated usurped the sun. It hung in the sky like a dying pustule and gave birth to the First Abomination. The foundations of the world shuddered. The empty nothingness of the void screamed. And, like a festering wound, it spread, killing and bringing death where it traveled.

Revelous urged him to return home, begged him to retreat from the bloody face of the patron he once knew so dearly. She shone in the darkness: the last candle light in the Endless Night.

And he retreated. Rejoined his siblings as they huddled in the empty courtyard of their home. They sat and waited. Waited for the sun to return. For word from their commanders. For a sign.

They all felt when the first commander fell, slain by some unknown beast. Those that had Contracts with him wailed as their borrowed magic shattered and plunged them back into the cold. They huddled closer.

They all saw the night deepen, the darkness grow bolder. They all felt the light slip further away. Even the fracturing magic didn't phase them, the screams and cries so common that it became meaningless.

Commanders fell in droves, their Contract bound Companions falling not long after. Stardust filled the air- bitter and impossible to escape.

They'd felt it when Revelous Fell. Not struck down like the others: not snuffed out in battle. But fallen from grace. The light of her soul tainted- tinged with darkness and shade. Compromised. Reverent felt the change in his magic- in the pale light he reflected. It was a spit in the face of everything they stood for. Of everything they had lost.

And, as they turned as one to fix Reverent in their hollow eyed stare, he ran. He hid his face from them and wrapped himself in the night. In the sudden quiet, he ran and vowed to find her himself. If she truly was Fallen, he would bring her to justice. He would rip the darkness from her soul and let her rest unblemished. It was what he had promised. And he would let nothing stand in his way.