The shadowman whispered. “The wicked walk free while the righteous sleep. Are you sleeping Little Brother? I am not.”
He was bright, luminescent, terrible, glorious, consuming. I was awestruck.
The whisper came again through the light. “Do you wake Little Brother? I see your eyes, but do you see?” I felt him come close. I squinted against the light, but it was no help, he had no form, only brightness.
“Who are you?” I finally managed. “Why are you here?” I raised my hand to shield my eyes, but again, it provided no relief from the light.
“Ah, no sleep for you Little Brother.” Said the voice, louder than before but still a whisper. “Do we walk? Do we dance? Do we sing against the darkness? Wake up, get up Little Brother.” The voice paused. “Know.”
I knew, and the knowing destroyed me. It battered me, and bled me. It tore at me and I began to shine.
I heard him laugh, and I knew where he got his name. He had no shadow.
With no shadow to bind them, the wicked walk free.
I cast no shadow.