“I yearn for darkness, but does the darkness yearn for me?” 

In another world, another time, in the woods furthers from anywhere there stood two sisters. One was tall with long golden hair like the sun itself and the other had hair as black as night. They glanced at each other from under their long heavy cloaks. A silence engulfed them as they stood beneath the old ash, their meeting place since before time began. 

“Can you feel it, Myrk? Beneath us it moves, making the ground itself tremble. It seeks entrance to our minds, to our lives. It seeks a way out. Its claws ready to tear open the earth. Its eyes always watching vigilantly,” the golden sister whispered. 

“Yes, Lys, I can feel it trembling in my throat, coiling through my blood. This is either the end or the beginning of something grim,” Myrk, the sister with the black hair said soundlessly. 

The golden sister glanced up at the tall trees, “Nothing but a whisper in the wind, an unsung melody penetrating through the midnight mist. You better hum, my dear, hum loudly. Either way, it will hear your voice in its distant slumber. Better make it a sweet melody. Few have heard its whispers, its melody. For it slumbers alone, awakened only by the songs of the witch. You better hum, my dear, hum if you can hear it. Sing it a sweet midnight melody, hum it back to sleep. I fear it might be too late. It slumbers beneath our feet, beneath the soil, it stirs when it awakens,” Lys breathed out as she spoke her enchanting words. 

Myrk gazed into her sister's bright, sparkling eyes before speaking soundlessly again, “I fear we might not be able to do anything, dear sister, shall we call the midnight hand? I can feel how it stirs.”

Lys narrowed her brows, “That might be more dangerous than it is worth, dearest sister. We do not know where they are, or who they are.” 

“All we need is a whisper. If it awakens the world will crack and bend. We will be the only ones left in the end, dear Lys,” Myrk soundlessly made her will clear. 

Lys nodded, she agreed, yet she was unsure. The midnight hand could not be controlled once they came together. It had ended in disaster and tragedy before, which was why they had been scattered and remade. She herself had done so with the help of the gardeners. 

“So it will begin,” Lys told Myrk, “The midnight hand will gather again.” 

“I shall twist the fates and align the planets,” Myrk soundlessly whispered. 

“And I shall light the way, leading them all together,” Lys said as she turned around, “Yet what shall become of them after it is all over and done I do not know. The midnight hand may strike us back.”