《A Shade's Joy》 0: Foreword Greetings to the Royalroadl community, It has been a while and I extend warmest greetings. To be honest, I didn''t believe I would be writing again. In the past year, I have barely touched upon any of my previous stories. I felt that they just did not possess the life they once had. IN the past year, I have grown as a person. Transitioning from grey days, my relationship with the Lord has progressed. Everyday seems to be filled with color, vibrancy, even though my surroundings have not changed much at all. What has changed is myself. I was rather apprehensive about writing this story because my previous story "Towards the LIght" ended upon a rather sour note. I destroyed the character progression because I wanted it to go somewhere. I was focused upon the distant heights that I forgot to be content where I was. I rushed the story and ultimately toppled everything I had built. I had almost killed the character I had once created. Then, I realized that God is the best author, the best storyteller. He created everything did he not? He moves with perfect grace and his story and plan is so intricate. Besides omnipotence, I realized as an author, I had fallen short of one particular aspect. I didn''t truly love my characters. My love for them was not deep. I wanted them to be perfect and happy, without real hardship. But that''s not the way the world works. Inside, without God, we are all broken and calling out for help. Thinking up this story, I thought deeply about it and decided to make Nimbus very much like me. He can''t see color in his life, because he does not know the joy of doing something for someone other than himself. Another aspect I realized I was lacking as an author was character progression. IN my previous story, I had made the blunder of throwing away all the progress the character had made to take it in a new direction. Mortified by the comments, I tried to hurriedly patch up this mistake in the following chapter. The rest was downhill from there and I ended the story faster than I wished. I had such grandiose plans for Abrum. He would eventually become Abruham, father of the Night, where he would reconcile his actions with his conscience, and lord over the races of the night with benevolence. Yet, I made the severe mistake of trying to transition Abrum''s class and race much too abruptly, shattering the previous hardwork of the protagonist. Then, I decided to rush the character progression, making Abrum destroy a city when there was anotheroption. I put the blood of a nation upon his head when there was clearly another option. I killed millions of lives with a brutal world transfer that was ultimately unnecessary. I planned to heap all the guilt upon Abrum, and he would be the savior, the sacrifice. But Abrum was Jesus, he was just a man. And I realized in that instance, I am an author. I am fallible. Yet anything I say in a story goes. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. As an author, I am not infallible. I wish to open this story to the public to share happily, because I truly love these characters. I love Nimbus Clearsky, the protagonist. I love dearly the sweet grave keeper. I want to love my characters and I want the best for them. I want to see them grow. I want to protect them. I will give them hardship so they may become stronger. I ultimately wish them the best. This is not my official return to Royalroadl, since I do not know where this story will progress past a certain point, and I will not plan past that certain point, lest I repeat my mistakes. This is just a story that I have come to love as it has been rewoven. This is the story of the kindest Necromancer, and the painting of a a gray heart. If the possibility intrigues you, I would be honored to have company upon this journey. Thank you. Warmest Regards, Mad Jester 1: Rain He stood upon the precipice of calamity, holding his beloved in his arms. He gazed out into the roiling black depths and grasped its width and intricacy. He teetered on the edge of a darkness. No one could save him. No one could stop him. -An Excerpt from the Legend of the Dark Cloud- Nimbus Clearski did not like the rain. He stared off into the horizon, the sky above him cloudy and a monotonous gray. The rain splattered around in the park, performing it''s dismal dance in the puddles. Far off in the distance, a jagged piece of white light appeared suddenly. It split the grey monotony for a mere second, and then it was gone. The deep rumble of thunder shook the earth, a testament that the bright lightning was no figment of the imagination. Untouched by the rain, Nimbus looked out at the grey sky glumly as he shifted his position upon the uncomfortable metal bench. The rain pounded upon the metal roof of the gazebo, adding a dull, monotonous roar to the white noise of rain colliding in with the grass. Maybe he didn''t like the rain because it resembled his life too much. He rested his elbow upon the park table and propped his chin on his hand, the metal lattice of the table biting gently into his elbow. By society''s point of view, he should be happy. He was young. He was good looking. He was healthy. He was wealthy. He was skilled. Yet he wasn''t happy. His life seemed to be as grey as the sky he sat under. The ground rumbled once again under his feet. He yearned for those flashes of lightning. Those things that would light up his life. He felt alive when those flashes of inspiration took him, but only for a brief instance. But then, just as he hadn''t caught every flash of lightning, how many opportunities had he missed? He couldn''t always be watching Removing his glasses from his face, the gray expanse remained just that, except with much less detail. He rested his head upon his beloved case. The car was just too far, he couldn''t muster the energy. Closing his eyes, he wished for lightning. But not the type that would come and leave, one that would stay. Still Lightning. His own thoughts were drowned by the rain as he drifted off to sleep. He really did not like the rain. Nimbus raised his head from his case, and gazed out upon a vast plain. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Directly above him, the sky was a blanket of clouds, yet off in the distance, he could see a blue sky detailed with puffy white clouds. His eyes were drawn to a mountain range. Nimbus raised his head, the mountain in the foreground was a black and defined, while the range of towering mountains in the background seemed to fade in and out of existence, blending with a peculiar gray backdrop of wispy grey clouds, that seemed to hang like curtains from the gray cloud ceiling. Nimbus'' attention was drawn to the indistinct peaks and the peculiar "curtains." The peaks were illuminated by small bolts of lightning flitting from random points in the clouds to behind the mountain, tearing away the obscurity for a scarce instances. The flickering lights drew his attention, and he was enthralled by the ephemerality of the lightning, and their contradictory consistency in placement. Drawn to this phenomenon, he picked up his violin case, and walked across his dream-like plain. The sun dipped into view, turning the far off blue into a rich florid display. The scarce bushes cast long shadows, saluting the departing sun, then it was gone. At the base, he gazed upwards, the deep blue night sky illuminated by the moon. Between Nimbus and the vast open sky, the mountain loomed over him, a vast immeasurable Titan, wreathed in with a majestic green forest and cloaked in the deep shadow of night. A shadow passed the moon and flew, cawing goodnight. Nimbus sat at the base of the mountain, a smile spreading across his face. The Lightning had struck. Excitedly, he opened up his case and placed his instrument upon his shoulder and clenched it with his chin. He drew his bow into position, and slowly slid it across the strings. A slow tune began to from his strings. Smooth and deep, rich and dark, slow and mourning, his violin sang into the night. It hung in the air, soared with the crow, flowed through the forest. His bow became still, and the song came to an end. The smile left his face, and it once again reverted to one empty. He sighed. Just as quickly as it had come, it had gone. That happiness never stayed for long. Nimbus set his violin back in its case. He suddenly froze. At the edge of the forest, a ball of wispy blue flames floated silently. 2: Wisp He was brooding and lost, a dark storm cloud in an infinite sky. His grey soul was heavy with rain. She was a small wisp, a faint light in the pale . She was his small light, his guide. -An Excerpt from the Legend of the Dark Cloud- The small wispy blue flame shed a faint blue light to it''s surroundings as the wind blew through the trees. The wispy flames curled in the air, dancing slowly, completely unaffected by the wind. "What in the world...?" He muttered under his breath. The small blue flame bobbed slightly in the air, then began to slowly float into the forest. Hurriedly, Nimbus stuffed his violin into its case, fumbling with the silver clasps in his haste. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of the blue tendrils disappearing behind a tree. He brought his case up on his shoulder and started off into the forest, following the faint blue light. At first, Nimbus was easily able to keep up with the light, the ground was firmly held together by grass, and the journey was easy. His boots sank slightly into the grass as he walked. However, the terrain began to get steeper. The ground was a gnarl of dry dirt and roots, and the footing became tricky. The small blue flame continued, unhindered by the terrain. Struggling to keep up, he stumbled upon a root and a low hanging branch caught his cheek. He touched his face in shock, tracing his cheek where the throbbing pain was coming from. Drawing his hand away, his fingers contain a splotch of red. He was bleeding. He was hurting Suddenly, the sensations flooded him. The cold breeze of the night ruffling through his shirt and vest. The sliding sensation of the dry soil beneath his boots. The heat from his own wound upon his face. They all washed over him like a tidal wave. This wasn''t a dream. It should be a dream. But it wasn''t a dream. Shuddering, he was knocked off his feet by the huge shock, and fell backwards upon his bottom. "W-why...where am I?" The sensations flooded over him as his mind became a roiling sea of chaos. He slid backwards across gnarled roots and the dry ground. He put his back against one of the large trees and hugged his legs to his chest. In the darkness, he trembled. His gray heart trembled. He was scared. He hadn''t done anything really worthwhile. All the things he had chased, money, fame, skill. They wouldn''t be any good to him if he was dead. It would all be for naught. He started to truly realize just how empty he was. As he shuddered, a soft blue light shine upon him, the little wispy ball floated from behind, and came into view. It floated for a second, seemingly watching him, then came and floated besides, hovering over his case. He put his head down into his knees and shuddered. The small blue light waited with him, giving light, keeping away the night. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. His trembling subsided and he raised head. The small blue flame bobbed gently in the air, happy to see him. The faint light reflected in Nimbus'' eyes, a small blue fire in his eyes. He reached out towards the flame, but it floated out of reach. It shook once in the air, and continued on what appeared to be it''s original path. Nimbus rose, wiped off the blood with his thumb, and licked it off firmly. Picking up his case, he continued to follow the pale light into the night. The incline lessened, and the thick trees and root infested ground gave way to a small clearing of grass. Nimbus slowed his pace as he walked across the clearing, staring with interest. On the other side of the clearing was a large iron fence, towering above the grass. Beyond the fence was less dense forest. Nimbus watched curiously as the blue flame continued to float steadily towards the fence. It showed no signs of stopping, and Nimbus found it curious. As the blue flame approached, the air around the gate blurred. Nimbus rubbed his eyes, and blinked a few times behind his glasses. His eyes widened. Standing at the edge of the clearing was a large gate. Two massive brick columns stood side by side, their pale stone lightened by the soft moonlight. Atop each was a stone gargoyle, standing as sentinels, their rough Iron wrought fence, several feet taller than Nimbus, extended from either side of the columns. Between the two columns extended an arch of iron. Two thin iron bars curved in a semicircle, and between those were letters made of thin silver strips. As the blue flame passed under, the thin silver letters simmered. "Mausoleum Heroum" Nimbus followed the little blue light through the arch and into the darkness, the gate disappearing behind him. The trees thinned as he followed his faint blue guide down the cobblestone path. The stones were uneven and mossy under his feet. His ankles began to feel sore, yet Nimbus continued on. The trees gave way to a forest of stone bushes. Faded, clean, tall, short, the graves were innumerable. Yet at the very center was the grandest of all. Dead leaves dragged over the cobblestone path, pushed by the wind, screeching like a multitude of cicadas rattling their wings. The stone angel stood tall over the cemetery, its wings spread proud. The moonlight cast a vibrant glow upon the marble masterpiece, elucidating the melancholy features of the beautiful sentinel. It was rather ironic how the dead and empty seemed so alive. Nimbus was enthralled in silent awe, drawn closer and closer, step by step. Then, a voice cut through the screeching of the leaves. "Who are you?"