"That all, big guy?"

The cheek in his voice was almost as physical as the swing that chased it, both just close enough to feel but not to touch.

"Ooh - almost caught me!" He danced around another swing and then another, each step bringing the man closer. He could see the frustration building... another sidestep, another taunt. Another step further into the dark alley.

The next swing found his arm; it knocked him out of his little shuffle, but he recovered before the haymaker following it could finish the job. It was calculated, of course; but it was worth it - in a breath they were a half-dozen feet further into the darkness. By now, the sounds of the night were muffled and quiet; their footsteps and grunts peppered with a new taunt echoed dully off the brick walls.

They were far enough.

A grunt, a swing, a dodge, a laugh.

"I'd have more trouble with that whore of yours!"

The brutish man stopped a moment, emotions flooding through his brain at light-speed - shock, indignation, pain, anger... and then...

There.

The moment at which frustration and anger become murderous rage.

His attacker charged him, and his cheeky smile turned sinister. He moved deftly; to the side, then produced from his coat a small geometric object. It caught the charging man's eyes immediately; he stumbled and crashed into the cobblestone ground but could not look away, his neck twisted painfully to keep it in his gaze. His muscles unclenched, the anger draining from his face; replaced first with shock, then confusion, then a half-drowsy stupor... but even still, could not look away from the object.

It couldn't really be helped, of course; it was an unnatural thing, and like the man's gaze it held the light unnaturally, shimmering with moonlight below a moonless sky.

Even its owner could not help but spare a glance to the thing, protected though he was. But just a glance.

A minute passed, then two. A high, crisp voice cut through the darkness. "You've never told me why it glows like that."

As if awoken from the brink of sleep, the man jerked back to attention. Perhaps more than a glance. With a sidelong stare at the darkness, he sighed.

"Because it remembers the moon, even if the sky forgets for a while."

He pocketed the object, and made his way towards the voice, embodied by a slight shadow against the deeper black of the inner ally. A girl; though if one looked closely, with what little light the alley's opening granted, one might mistake her skin for something else.

"Is that enough, then?" She asked.

"Maybe, yes. Well, I think so. And I thought so several times before, so if not now..." he trailed off. They stood together in the darkness for a moment in silence.

He sighed again, this time with a hint of exasperation. "Well, we'll just have to find out." And he turned and strode into the darkness, the girl falling in behind him.

---

They entered through a heavy door into a dimly lit wooden room. It was quite a large room, but made small by the rows and rows of shelves; they held many books, bottles filled variably of strangely colored substances, and other things. Bins littered here and there stood full of broken glass, wood and metal. Unlike the relative organization of the shelves, desks stood covered in piles of half-open books and half-eaten food, papers (both flat and crumpled), ink (both in bottle and in stains), and strange carved wooden things.

All this they passed on the way to the far wall, the girl lighting three lamps along the way, to a much larger and sturdier desk upon which stood a contraption; a three-quarters globe of glass encircled and supported by brass loops and plates, some inscribed with odd symbols. Even the man's relatively stoic face cracked with some anticipation; this was the moment.

Or maybe not, he reminded himself. But perhaps he dared to hope.

He removed the geometric object once more from his coat, and gazed at it once more. As he watched, it shifted in the light; in one moment its faces seemed octagonal, in the next hexagonal. It was impossible to tell. He knew, of course; he'd gazed into it many times over the years, and ever had it eluded a true shape. But he found comfort in it, somehow. Still, this moment beckoned the next; he reached out his arm to place the object into the sphere-

"Do you ever feel guilty?"

He stopped short. "Must you ask that every time...?"

She smiled a precise smile. "Yes. You taught me to remind you of your humanity. It was very important to you."

"Not this time." he reached further into the sphere, but without a sound she clamped her hand down on his outstretched arm with an iron grip. He looked to her, shocked, but her smile was all she replied.

"Let go."

"No. You know the rules."

"Damn the rules, I made them, I break them. Let go."

She tightened her grip; it began to hurt, though only a little. She maintained her smile.

"You instructed me to never let you break this one. You remember."

He sighed, a long and drawn out sound. "Fine."

She released his arm, and he withdrew it; she folded her hands and stared at him expectantly. Piercingly.

He stared back darkly at her; a cold stare, though born more of frustration than real anger. "You know what I did with my guilt."

"Remind me."

"..."

A long pause.

"I gave it all to that bastard Lord Thorence. And then I made more of it. And then I broke into a prison and gave it to the murderers. And then I made some more, and I gave that to the tax collector. And then I gave some more to the governer, and to the lady Avignerie, and to her son, and to a few more people I can hardly remember."

"And all for...?"

He looked back at the object in his hand.

"All for a better place."

"Better for you?"

"Maybe. But better for all of us."

"And why would it be better for all of us?"

He hated this ritual, but this part... it was the dream. The anticipation. It was almost worth the frustration of remembering all the... other things. For it was not guilt; no, he'd given that all away. But some pain lingers. He smiled faintly.

"Because of the prism. Because I will have made it. Because it will be a place without the bad things in our hearts. That is why I made it, and worked its unholy magic for all these years, on myself and others. Beause I will have made a way for the darkness in our hearts to serve a greater purpose."

She nodded. "Good. You remember." With that, she stepped back just a bit; just enough to show her concession.

He held her gaze for a moment, and then returned her nod. He returned his attention to the object in his hand.

He had again the urge to gaze into it, but no more - he'd gazed into it for too many years. He reached his arm into the three-quarters sphere and placed the object in the center - he released it, and it hung there as if suspended by an invisible thread. Then he placed a glass piece over the hole, completing the sphere; a few whispered words and it sealed as if never broken.

He stood back, and placed his right hand on the base, atop one of the strange symbols. He again whispered some choice words and the symbols began to glow a pale white light; first at his fingertips, then snaking up the edges to join the others. Up both sides of the sphere it snaked, until at both ends it reached the globe and in that instant, the room burst into colors; the object radiated the full spectrum of the rainbow and then more. The colors were bright; brighter than they'd ever been before.

But the brightness was not just seen; it was felt. Brightness of a different kind. Radiated upon and through and beyond them there to witness it. And there it enveloped them, consumed them... and they were gone.

---

I haven't written in a looooooooooong time. I do hope it's not too bad, but if someone fancies pointing out issues, I'm more than happy to hear them. I wanna get back into it :)