[ WP ] For the first time in a hundred years , night fell on the Land of Two Suns .

The elders said it would come. `` One hundred years and the darkness would return,'' they told us, `` sweeping over the landscape like a blanket, enclosing the good and reminding us of the evil that lurks just beneath, healthy and patient.'' It's not that we did n't believe them. It's just that we had no choice. It is n't us who control the light. 
 
 They tell us that all of the evils in man come out during the darkness. Without the illumination of our twin suns to bring our souls to bear we lose the part of us deep inside that holds back that evil, that lets us see it for what it is and the harm it brings. The darkness rips that moral casing, tearing it apart for nothing but the promise of vengeance or power or wealth that we know we should not have but desire just the same. 
 
 The whole village watched with bated breath as the suns lost their hold in the sky, dipping over the horizon like a sinking boat. We all expected what would happen, and perhaps it was that expectation that made it so. 
 
 The night had come. The village was quiet at first, most too scared to move, and I was just the same. I hid with my family inside our hut, the walls made from mud and straw, humble but strong. We did n't have a meals to seal it shut from outsiders - in one hundred years, we've never had to. We sat together, me, the father, aside my wife and two children. I felt their hands around me clutching tight for warmth and safety, my hands holding my club for much the same reasons. Strong and sturdy. Reliable. 
 
 We heard the first screams, distant, ringing out across the village. I felt my wife shiver, from fear or cold I could n't tell. It was the first of many; a cacophony of horror brought on by those that thought they were friends and neighbours, acting on simple thoughts of petty revenge on the simplest of transgressions as under the covers of darkness they alone could choose the judgement. No one would know what choice they made. The only retribution was of their own making. 
 
 Footsteps. Soft, creeping across the padded dirt of the entryway to our home. In the light, a neighbour entering your home would mean they would need your help, and in that one would be more than willing to provide. But now... I've lost my faith. There's only evil out there, and it came to my door. It must be expelled. 
 
 I shook free the hands of my family and stood, slowly, deliberately. Hands gripping tightly, I felt the blood coursing through my veins, heart pounding ceaselessly, loud enough to wake the dead but not loud enough to let this intruder know of my presence. I took a step forward towards him, planting heel first, soft as a rabbit alighting upon a bed of grass. 
 
 He stopped. 
 
 `` Who's there?'' he asked, soft as a whisper. If there was fear in his voice, I can not trust it. `` I've been harmed. They came to my home, they hurt me. I need your help.'' 
 
 `` You mean to hurt us. We know what happens when night comes,'' I replied. I should n't have. I should have done away with him, a surety for my family. This was a risk, a foolish risk! 
 
 `` I do not mean you harm. My head is bleeding, and I need help,'' he pleaded. 
 
 `` I know what you mean to do,'' I said, not really knowing. All the elders said that on this day there would be blood, and awful things, friend killing friend, brother against brother. I would not have him gain my trust just to stab me in the back. `` I do n't know who you are, but I know what you mean to do.'' This time it felt true. An intruder is at my door, and he means to kill. 
 
 `` You do not know me, how can you say that? You can not even see my face! It's this darkness, it's driving you to act this way!'' The man was agitated. Who knows what he would be capable of now? I can not see his face. He must n't be a friend, only the lurking terror of which we have been known to fear! 
 
 I stood up straight, sure in my grasp on my club and stepped towards the man. I swung powerfully, not sure of what I found but feeling it strike flesh. The sound of an object striking the meat of an animal, hard and cold and brutal. Again and again, I rained blows upon him until his lies and deceit would trouble me no more. I swung until my arms grew tired, spatterings of blood dotting my face. I crept back to my corner and felt the presence of my family, but their hands would not find me now. They, too, were afraid. 
 
 It was hours before the suns began to peek above the horizon, light piercing the shadows through the leaves and hills until our village was once again bathed in the glorious light of goodness and truth. But the light was blinding and the truth was harsh, spreading across the village, gleaming off pools of blood and broken bones. I dared not move until the word was bright as the most brilliant of days. 
 
 It was then I saw him. A good man, a friend, beaten savagely in my own home. I did n't know. I could n't know.
