I was six years old, and at that age, the world felt bigger than it ever would again. The hallway felt longer at night. The ceiling looked higher. Shadows didn't just sit still—they watched, stretched, and whispered stories only kids could hear.
Kristina said shadows were afraid of us.
I wasn't sure I believed that, but I liked pretending I did.
That night, the Enchanted Pillow Kingdom felt different. The air was quieter, heavier, like the house itself was holding its breath. Our fort was still standing—pillows stacked high, blankets draped like castle walls—but something about it felt… older. Like it remembered yesterday's battles and wanted to test us again.
Kristina sat cross-legged, holding the Scroll of Infinite Cookies—Mom's notebook—pressed tightly to her chest.
"The kingdom is not safe," she said softly.
I swallowed. "But… we won yesterday."
She nodded slowly. "Yes. But darkness doesn't disappear forever. It waits."
That scared me more than dragons ever could.
From the kitchen, Grandma's voice echoed, "Why is it so quiet in here? I don't trust quiet kids."
Kristina whispered, "See? Even the elders sense the danger."
I tried not to laugh.
The lights flickered for just a second. Not long enough for Mom to notice, but long enough for us to feel it.
Kristina's eyes widened. "The Night Wraiths are returning."
I clutched my flashlight—my sword, my shield, my courage. "Why now?"
"Because," she said seriously, "they know our names."
That made my stomach twist.
We crawled deeper into the fort, the blankets brushing against my face. In here, everything felt closer—our breathing, our thoughts, our fears. I imagined the shadows slipping under the couch, stretching their fingers across the floor, trying to reach us.
Kristina leaned closer. "Knight Kristopher, this quest is different."
"How?" I whispered.
"This time… we protect more than the kingdom. We protect each other."
I nodded, even though my hands were shaking.
Suddenly, a loud thump echoed from the hallway.
I jumped. "What was that?!"
Kristina raised her hand. "Do not panic."
Another thump. Slower. Heavier.
Mom called out, "Relax, it's just the house settling."
Kristina whispered, "That's what the Sorcerer wants you to think."
We froze as a shadow slid across the wall, long and thin, like a finger pointing at us. My heart started pounding so loud I thought the Night Wraiths could hear it.
I was six. I knew monsters weren't real.
But I also knew fear was.
Kristina stood up, taller somehow, like magic really did live inside her. "Show yourself!"
The shadow stopped moving.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the cat darted across the room, knocking over a stack of books.
I almost cried from relief.
Kristina sighed. "False alarm. The Sorcerer uses tricks."
We laughed quietly, but the feeling didn't go away. The darkness still felt… awake.
Grandma shuffled past the doorway. "If y'all don't stop whispering like ghosts, I'm turning the lights on."
Kristina gasped. "No! That would break the magic seal!"
Grandma stared. "The only thing breaking is my patience."
When she walked away, Kristina leaned back against the couch. "Even powerful wizards fear the Light Switch."
I giggled, then stopped when I noticed something.
"Kris… the shadow's moving again."
She followed my gaze.
This time, it wasn't the cat.
The shadow stretched slowly, crawling up the wall like it was listening. Like it was learning.
Kristina whispered a spell under her breath. I didn't understand the words, but they made me feel safer.
I held my flashlight up high. "I'm not scared," I lied.
The shadow shrank a little.
Kristina smiled. "See? Courage weakens darkness."
We stayed there for a long time, guarding the Scroll, whispering stories, turning fear into fantasy and fantasy into strength. Outside the fort, Mom talked quietly on the phone. Grandma washed dishes. The world kept moving, even while ours stood still.
Eventually, the shadows softened. The room warmed. The Night Wraiths retreated back into corners where they belonged.
Kristina stretched. "The kingdom survives another night."
I exhaled deeply. "Do you think the shadows will come back?"
She looked at me, gentle now. "Maybe. But we'll be older. Stronger."
I nodded, not knowing yet how fast time would move.
Kristina leaned over and tapped my forehead. "Remember this, Knight Kristopher. Even when the world feels dark… even when shadows know your name… you are never alone."
That mattered more than magic.
Mom peeked in. "Alright, adventurers. Bedtime."
Kristina saluted. "The kingdom rests."
As I crawled into bed, the shadows stayed where they were. Quiet. Watching—but not winning.
I was six years old, and I didn't know what the future held. I didn't know about brothers not yet born, or how childhood would slowly fade.
But I knew this:
As long as Kristina stood beside me, no darkness—real or imagined—could ever truly take us.
And somewhere in the quiet house, the shadows learned something too.
We were not afraid anymore.