Disclaimer: I do not own this in any shape or form ... well the words I 'own' but the characters, settings are someone else's sand box.

Author's Note: Hasn't been beta'd. Its just a little story I've been wondering about for a while and decided to write it down.

Please feel free to share your thoughts - they are very much appreciated.

Strangled Sunlight


He was like strangled sunlight.

That was the only way he could describe it. There were no other words that accurately captured the boy who sat in the hospital waiting room, head bent and arms hugging his slight frame. He was still as a statue – frozen in his grief. Never had the child look so small: in his three sizes too large green shirt and ripped-at-the-knees jeans. It was disheartening to see such a bright spirit so utterly lost.

He knew for a fact that the boy would normally be sprinting through a park, laughter like twinkling bells, and feet bare while others followed by: out of breath and pathetically human. He knew that the boy was supposed to be happy, light as air. He should be charming young girls – unintentionally at the current time– as the boy made their own mothers' blush and say words like 'such a sweet, sweet boy' and inspire his male peers to follow him into the dark reaches of his world: a spread of neighbourhoods with towering skyscrapers.

But now the sunlight that had been Andrew Williams was being strangled.

If it was any other person he would not have felt sorry for the child but to see one of his kin so incredibly lost was heart breaking. One could feel the utter shattered soul the boy reeked off, that was seeping into his own, albeit, young magic. It wasn't pleasant. If only the child had been brought up in his father's land ... but that wasn't meant to be evidently.

He sighed, and stepped forward from the shadows. He was dressed in plain suit, tailored perfectly, and black as the darkest reaches of hell, with his hair a wild golden mane capturing the dying light that came through the hospital's window. No one batted an eyelid at him as he walked towards the youth – nor could they as magic filled their lungs, clouding their eyes.

The only one who wasn't clouded was the boy. Andrew looked up, body tensing. He looked from side to side, brow furrowed in confusion until his eyes – eyes that mimicked his own – looked at Seth. The whole world around them seemed to be muted, time dragging on.

He never broke pace at the boy's stare. He reached him, and Andrew threw a glance around the room – no doubt wondering why no one had raised a word against this strange man (for he was strange to the boy. Andrew could no doubt feel the magic that danced from his fingertips and the predatory and youthful face that spoke of eons gone by while the rest just saw a man) – and sat down on the plastic waiting room seat, cocking his head to the left, daring the boy to speak.

Andrew didn't, his green eyes still staring into his with an unwavering intensity.

"Hello, Andrew," he said, breaking the silence, making the world spin again.

The boy took another sweep of the room.

"Why can't anyone else see you?" asked Andrew, voice low, suspiciousness whispering in his mind.

"They can,"

"Can, but won't," Andrew murmured under his breath, a half uttered whisper. He raised his voice slightly and turned his gaze to his feet. "Like a spell?"

He smiled. "Yes, like a spell,"

"Why are you here?"

Direct to the point. He liked that.

"To save your mother,"

The boy's eyes flickered back to his.

"How? Are you a doctor?"

"Not your idea of a doctor," he said, "But yes, I am a doctor of kinds. You're mother is very sick – both soul and body. She won't get better," he paused for but a second, "here."

"Here," repeated Andrew, "So you want to take her somewhere else? Where she can get better?"

"Yes. She can get better if you let me take her,"

"Are you Death?"

The small power that the boy did wield was crackling around him, tiny invisible currents snaking up his arms, his eyes growing darker. He was threatened.


The boy didn't relax.

"Andrew, Andrew," he said in a soft voice, "I merely want to help your mother – she is very special. If you don't let me she'll remain trapped in that body – I can give your mother her dreams,"

A small crystal ball appeared in his hand and he rolled it from one finger to another while Andrew watched with widened eyes. He started to nudge his own magic into the boy's mind, delighted that the crystal was distracting his target. The boy's eyes were softening, suggestive whispers creeping into his mind.


"All you have to do is say 'I wish that the shadows would take her away'"

"That's just a story,"

He was tempted to smack the child for that. A story – that was all they were now. Once they had held power, ruled the lands with might but now they were but a myth. He bit back his anger however. He had to be in control, had to be calm.

Losing control now would alert the child to the foreign magic which was slowly ensnaring him.

"Is it now?" he said with a soft voice, "Is it merely a tale? Aren't 'spells' just words, my boy?"

The boy blanched for a second remembering his previous words.

"Yeah – well it is meant to have goblins in it," he said firmly.

"Shadows, goblins – things that live together in one and are one," he said, dismissively, "The intention is more important than the words – unless you are dealing with goblins and shadows themselves ..." he smiled, "words are crucial,"

"Why are you doing this?" the boy asked, taking a different approach, "Why do you want Mom?"

"Because it pains her to be here," he said, still twirling the crystal in his hands, the boy still watching it, "And it hurts you to see her like this – you are like strangled sunlight, Andrew, strangled and unable to breathe."

He reached out and pulled the boy's chin towards him so that their eyes met, "You should be free, child of Air, free. I can give you that, a stable family, a stable school – I can give you what you want. Just say the words,"

"I love her – she's my Mom,"

"I know, that is why this choice is so important – only you can make it,"

Andrew blinked, his eyes watering slightly.

"She'll be better?"

"Like sunshine,"

The boy's lipped trembled as he spoke clearly. "I wish the shadows would take her away,"

The man smiled. The words were spoken. It was time. He rose, stole one last glance at the boy – whom he could take ... but decided against it. This boy was sunlight to this world. And in his world he would be shadowed no doubt.


Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed that. Thoughts are appreciated.