Two Halves
The evening light spilled over the castle's central garden.
Leaves danced through the air as if fleeing from something.
The air itself felt heavier than usual.
Thomas, the most powerful light mage in the kingdom, walked with his head lowered, silently crossing the stone paths.
He had just come from the catacombs.
The darkness he had sensed there wasn't demonic, nor monstrous… it was something else entirely.
"This isn't ordinary dark magic," he thought. "It's something more."
Then, a figure stepped into his path.
"Hey! Good afternoon," Raz said, with his usual easy smile and relaxed posture.
"I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Raz… a hero, or something like that," he added playfully, extending a hand.
Thomas stared at him for a few seconds before accepting the handshake.
"Thomas. Pleased to meet you."
"You're a mage, right?"
"Of light."
"Oh, one of the strong ones then," Raz replied with a wider grin.
"Did you come to see the king? Or maybe one of the princesses?"
Thomas looked away.
"Do you… know anything about the disappearances?"
Raz blinked, caught off guard by the question.
"Disappearances?"
"Yes," Thomas answered firmly. "Servants, soldiers… even some lower-ranked mages. They've vanished — quietly."
Raz lowered his head. His smile faded for just a moment.
"I've noticed that too… some of them were kind to me. I'd like to know if they're alright."
Thomas studied him carefully.
"There's already an investigation. Don't worry about it."
He turned to leave.
"Wait!" Raz called, taking a step forward. "Do you know something?"
Thomas hesitated for a moment, then nodded slightly.
"You're one of the heroes. Maybe you should know…"
At that moment, a voice called out behind them:
"Raz! Good to see you!"
It was Gaius, striding toward them with his usual calm demeanor.
"Captain Gaius," Raz said respectfully. "All good here."
"Talking with Thomas?" the captain asked, smiling. Then he glanced at the light mage from the corner of his eye.
That look said everything.
Not an order — a warning.
Thomas understood.
"We were just sharing thoughts. If you'll excuse me."
And he left — calm, serious, composed.
Raz frowned, watching him go.
"He was going to tell me something."
"Ah, Thomas is like that. Cryptic, but trustworthy," Gaius said with a grin. "Don't worry about it."
Then he walked off as well.
But not to rest.
He ran down a side corridor until he caught up with Thomas.
"Why didn't you let me tell him anything?"
"It's not the right time," Gaius replied without turning.
"And what are you going to do?"
Thomas stopped. He looked up at the sky, now glowing orange with the setting sun.
"I'll call my brother."
Gaius frowned.
"Tom?"
Thomas nodded.
"I need a second opinion. No one understands bodies, souls, and transformation like he does."
Tom and Thomas. Twins — yet opposites in every way.
Thomas: golden hair, sky-blue eyes, a radiant presence.
He dressed in white, spoke with serenity.
His magic was purification — light, order, harmony.
Tom: jet-black hair, dark eyes, a piercing gaze.
He wore gray and black, spoke little.
His magic was necromancy — death, manipulation, resurrection.
Both were level 5 mages.
Both respected.
Both feared… for very different reasons.
"How long has it been since you've seen him?" Gaius asked.
"Three years," Thomas replied. "But he always answers when I write. He's on a mission abroad. It'll take a few weeks, but he'll come."
Gaius nodded.
"And if he discovers something we don't want him to?"
Thomas turned to him.
"Then we'd better be ready."
They walked off without another word.
Meanwhile, back in the garden, Raz still stared toward the spot where Thomas had disappeared.
"That conversation left me uneasy. What was he going to tell me?"
That Same Night
The moon shone through the tall window of the small study room.
Thomas, still wearing his uniform stained with dust from the exhausting day, held a trembling quill over a blank sheet of parchment.
He had lit only a single candle.
Bright light bothered him when he was nervous… and tonight, he was more nervous than ever.
He took a deep breath.
"Tom… brother…" he murmured as he began to write.
But the moment he traced the first lines, an old memory cut through his mind like lightning.
⸻
Flashback — Many years ago, when they were 12
The backyard of their family home was wrapped in a golden glow.
A young Thomas—slender, blond, with sky-blue eyes—was excited, convinced that today he would finally manage to cast his most advanced spell for the first time: Heartbeat of Life.
A few meters away, watching him with crossed arms, stood his twin brother.
Tom.
Black like the night that refuses to die.
Black hair, black eyes, paler skin, and an aura of darkness that even at that age clung to him like a mantle.
Unlike Thomas, who radiated warmth, Tom seemed to absorb it.
"Go on, try it," Tom said in a calm yet distant voice.
"It'll work today, I know it," Thomas replied with confidence.
Thomas placed one hand over his own heart, extending the other outward.
He closed his eyes, inhaled… and concentrated the luminous energy.
A spark.
Then another.
And suddenly—
BOOM!
A ring of light exploded around him, expanding like a divine cloud.
Tom didn't have time to react.
The blast threw him to the ground.
His skin began to crack, to burn, as if the light were trying to erase the darkness inside him.
His scream tore through the air.
"NO, NO, NO—TOM!!" Thomas ran to him, terrified, crying, trying to stop something he could no longer control.
The holy radiance burned his brother's flesh, seeping deep, punishing every trace of darkness.
Little Thomas, only twelve years old, fell to his knees as he watched his twin's life consume itself in sacred flames he himself had unleashed.
The light didn't stop until the adults ran over and extinguished the flames with neutralizing magic.
Tom was left on the brink of death.
And although he survived…
He was never the same again.
⸻
Back to the Present
The candle flickered, pulling Thomas back to the study desk.
He ran a hand over his face, feeling the guilt as if those burns had never healed.
From that day onward, Tom had changed.
He no longer spoke as much, kept his distance, cold—not out of hatred, but because being near his brother of light literally hurt him.
And Thomas, with his heart heavy with guilt, couldn't bring himself to get too close.
Every conversation, every attempt to reconnect… felt awkward, tense, full of memories neither of them wanted to touch.
That's why they wrote letters.
Cold.
Formal.
Distant.
But still, they were something.
Tom took weeks to reply.
But he did reply.
And that was enough for Thomas to keep a small, trembling hope alive that maybe… someday… they would talk as brothers again.
He inhaled deeply and continued writing:
⸻
The Letter
"Tom,
Brother… I need you to read this carefully.
Creatures have appeared… things that are not monsters, nor demons, nor specters.
They are something new—something I do not understand.
Something that even I, with all my training in light, cannot fully analyze.
They are resilient, strong, and they seem… deformed.
As if something had corrupted their essence before they were even born.
I need your help.
Your experience with necromancy and dark magic is the only thing that can complement what I can't see.
I know you are abroad, on a mission, and it will take you weeks… but please, come as soon as possible.
I don't trust anyone else with this.
Your brother,
Thomas."
⸻
Thomas sealed the letter with the family crest.
As he did, a sharp pain pricked his chest.
"I hope… this time, I can actually help you, brother…" he whispered.
The letter sat on the desk, ready to be sent at dawn.