The child stood at the edge days later.
They said nothing.
They stepped forward.
The darkness did not challenge.
It parted—not out of obedience, but curiosity.
The child walked forward, into the place where even echoes stopped.
And there they sat.
For hours.
No flame.
No magic.
Just listening.
And then—
—the darkness answered.
A soundless word, older than time, too vast to hold, yet soft enough to carry.
The child smiled.
When they stepped out, they bore no weapon, no truth, no revelation.
Only a small shadow wrapped around their arm like a friend.
And wherever they walked, people felt less afraid.
Because now they understood—
Darkness is not the opposite of light.
It is the space that makes light matter.
It is the breath between each note in the chorus.
And it, too, belongs.
In time, the Pact—no longer a pact, but a chorus of continuance—held a gathering at the threshold.
There, each person shared not what they had done…
…but what they had once hidden.
