Sparks.
Shadows, a world of darkness. There is no light to scare the creatures that hide, to illumination to share the beauty of colour, just darkness, just shadow. A pitch black landscape of silence, a planet of solace, a place where light was a distant fantasy, a dream of the few. The shadows swirled and danced in the endless night, a scamper of blood curling smiles and scratching nails. These creatures bathed in the dark, prowled the shadows, owned the night, a mix of intelligence and primitive instinct, a creature of sentience, programmed to kill. The endless night danced on into the void, its light long since perished, as its creatures hunted and slaughtered, stalking their prey with the light of nothing.
There were those who were not consumed by the darkness, that were not taken by the merciless shadows, that refused to dance to the tune of the night, to the light of the void. Their purpose was different, they held colour as a weapon, and the blinding radiance of their sparks. The sparks, the one source of light on the bleak horizon, a colourful current of lightning, a evanescent explosion of power, and then it was gone. It would follow them, the sparks, their radiant light chased them, it swallowed the darkness, took the shadows, erased the night and replaced it with the breaking dawn.
These creatures of light, of colour, they chased the darkness, they brought vibrancy, radiance, to the bleak void, to the endless night.
Flashes of light, of vibrancy, of colour, that illuminated the night, that made the darkness glow.
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