Shaffia always loved the clink of glass. There was a peace to the sound – something about the ability to hear it that only made a space quieter.

Today, her shop was eerily uninhabited and the ring of golden spoons on glass was more noticeable than ever. Usually, the shop held a mob of people looking to find the correct recipe for some ailment, or a tea that would bring them peace. Shaffia was more than happy to provide these things and more with a smile and a story for every dried herb.

A pinch of lavender, a few ounces of ground coffee, a teaspoon of turmeric, honey, and the smallest bit of sugar had found their way onto her dress instead of the tray she held. This was not a recipe for a regular, but something told her she would need it today.

Shaffia turned her face toward the window to drink in the sun’s warmth. There were times where clouds would darken Myrrah as far as the eye could see and she could not bear being alone in the shop on such days. Myrrah’s gloom brought about shadows that lurked behind Shaffia’s back, their cold fingers waiting to wrap themselves around her shoulders. She shivered.

Myrrah was a quiet, coastal town. The light blue sea and black sand beaches were a hike down the mountain on which it was situated. The trees were so enormous, Shaffia imagined she might have been able to live inside one if she tried. From where she stood, sun rays lit the

water below.

The light burned into the greenhouse of the shop as Shaffia’s kettle whistled. She poured the boiling water into a filter with a mix of the herbs in her tray, watching the liquid darken into the glass pot. She carefully stirred in milk and the aroma of the flowers began to fill her nose. Shaffia stepped back and raised an eyebrow. This was a healing tonic, made drinkable by coffee. Who would need this?

The door jingled. Seems like someone bore the heat enough to visit. Shaffia lifted the pot with the tonic carefully, bringing it to the desk that sat in the front of the shop.

“Hello –” She started, nearly stumbling from an effort to not drop the pot. Leaning forward, she stared in panic at the figure in front of her.

He looked like a man, perhaps larger than any she had ever seen. He wore gold armor and a quiver of arrows across his back. His bow was strung around him in a similar fashion to the quiver. What alarmed Shaffia was that he clutched his side where the armor had melted, as though something had burned through it. An arrow stuck out of the opening. Shaffia’s breathing became frantic and she snatched a kit of bandages from a shelf under the table. Kneeling to the man’s side, she inspected the wound carefully.

“What happened to you?” She asked as quietly as she could in an effort not to startle him. He looked up at her, eyes darkening.

“Arrow.” He muttered faintly.

“Obviously. I need to know what happened or I cannot help you.”

His eyes began to close and his armor tumbled to the floor with a clang.

“Hey!” Shaffia urgently tapped her shaking hand to his face. “How did this happen?”

“I…” He shuddered. “I can’t.”

It did not make sense to waste any more time, so Shaffia pulled the shaft of the arrow back with all her might. It slid out of the man’s side, leaving a gaping wound. This, she could work with. Rubbing a bit of calendula and honey salve on a bandage, she placed the thick fabric onto the wound and added pressure to stop the pooling blood. After a moment the man sighed in relief, propping himself up on one of her shelves.

“Hello,” He grinned faintly.

“You will be needing a doctor.”

The man shook his head. “A doctor would not understand how to treat this wound. You, however, did a marvelous job.” He patted the bandage approvingly.

“Why would a doctor not know how to heal you?”

The man’s smile tugged further at the corners of his mouth. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“And you cannot explain how you got this wound either?”

“Well, that’s rather simple. My brother shot me with an arrow.”

Shaffia looked at the man with disdain. “That answer is no good, but I have something that will help.” She waited at ready in case the man needed help getting up, but he stood in a surprisingly agile manner for someone who had an arrow two feet long in his side just moments ago. Once he was safely seated in the armchair next to the shop counter, Shaffia handed him a mug full of tonic.

The man flashed her a dazzling smile.

“What’s your name?” He asked unassumingly. 

“Does it matter?” Something in Shaffia told her to keep her name to herself and she wondered if he would find her tone rude. Instead of frowning or looking taken aback, his smile became wider.

“Smart one, you are.” He took a sip of the tonic. “I am Surya.”

“Your name is sun?”

But as she said it, the name seemed rather fitting. His dark skin seemed like there was a light emanating from within him. Under his armor, gold jewelry laden with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds laid on his chest and arms. It looked as though it weighed more than Shaffia could imagine, but Surya carried it on himself as though he could not feel the weight of his jewelry or his armor at all.

“Yes.” He nodded. “You can tell me your first name.”

“Shaffia.”

“Ah,” he smiled. “You are a healer.”

“No. “Doctors are healers. I help people in other ways.”

“This,” Surya gestured to the tonic. “Is a form of healing where I am from.” He lifted the bandage slightly so Shaffia could peek underneath it and her eyes widened. What was once a large gash was now closing rapidly, now an insignificant cut.

“How did you do that?!” She stepped back, eyes wide. Surya grinned.

“I didn’t, you did.”

“That’s… that’s not possible.” Shaffia shook her head frantically. “That’s not how medicine works.”

“Like I said, where I am from, you are a healer. You have the name of a healer.”

“And where exactly are you from?”

Surya did not answer. Instead, he glanced out of the window. The beating heat had become more temperate now. “Thank you for helping me. Please allow me to give you something in return.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and besides, I could not possibly take anything from you.” Shaffia crossed her arms. What a strange man.

 A glint appeared in Surya’s eyes. “Alright then,” he said. “When you decide what it is you wish for, you may ask me.” 

“How will you –”

“I must go now.”

With that, he lifted his enormous bow and placed it on his back. The floorboards groaned as he stepped to the door. He paused to glance back at Shaffia, who could do nothing but dumbfoundedly stare at the strange being she had miraculously healed in her shop within the hour. “Until next time, Shaffia.”

“Uh –”

As if a spell had broken, Shaffia ran to the front door of the shop, peeking out to see where Surya went, but he was nowhere to be found.

 ***

Shaffia expected to forget Surya as the days flew past. Customers entered the shop constantly, each with a unique demand. Even so, as she brewed and mixed, she could not stop seeing Surya on her armchair, healed in a matter of minutes.

As a child, Shaffia had heard tales of the Sun, the Moon, and how each element in the world existed as those who walked on the Earth did. In a place like Myrrah, such things seemed even more possible than anywhere else.

The bells on the shop’s door tinkled. Footsteps cut through the customers’ chatter, approaching her counter. The shop’s warmth seemed to be interrupted by a polar breeze.

“I will be right with you.” She called over her shoulder, wrapping a pouch with a special tonic closed and setting it on the wooden counter.

“Won’t be a moment of your time.”

The voice sent chills up Shaffia’s spine. She spun to face a man clad in black. She looked closely at him but felt as though she might have been able to pass a hand through his clothing if she tried. Somehow, he was reminiscent of Surya, but his presence brought a much less welcoming coldness. His eyes were so dark that Shaffia might have lost herself in their endlessness if she stared too long. “How can I help you?”

“I am looking for someone.” He leaned forward with a sultry smile.  “Tall, dark hair like mine, rather… bright.”

Surya. Shaffia shook her head. “That does not ring a bell. Not only that but your person sounds like half the customers that step into my shop.” She added a humorous lilt to her voice, trying to sound lighthearted. The man’s smile waned ever so slightly but remained pleasantly on his face.

Shaffia tried to not look in this man’s eyes. It was impossible. They embodied the darkness that emanated from the rest of his being. She tried to discern what color they were—dark brown? Black? No, they somehow looked silver. But she could have sworn she was staring into an endless pool of his inky pupil. Perhaps not. They were both so dark and so bright that Shaffia fell into them.

Literally. She was falling forward. No longer aware of her feet, she dove into an inky murk flecked with silver. Like stars, she thought, but the silver flecks did not offer any light the way stars do. Like the moon with no sun, she found herself thinking. All she fell into was inky darkness. She did not know what lie in the dark. As the thought passed her consciousness, fear creeped up her neck and made the hair on her head stand upright.

Shaffia had been afraid before. Of course, everyone had. But this time was different. Everything she thought of seemed to materialize in front of her. Suddenly, the flecks of silver in the night were replaced by pairs of red eyes. They blinked at her. She opened her mouth but could not scream. No sound exited her throat. She shut her eyes. When she opened them, it was completely dark again. Her feet were back on solid ground. Then why couldn’t she see?

Shaffia looked around again. Last time her feet were on the ground wasn’t she in her shop? Where was she now? How did she get here? Something scratched at the back of her brain. Was something behind her? Shaffia whipped her head to look behind herself, but just like everything else around her, it was far too dark to see anything. A soft snarl resonated in her ears. That had to be here imagination. She didn’t even know where she was, how could something be behind her? She started running.

As she ran, something materialized. Trees, a dense canopy that she could not see the sky through. Shaffia kept her gaze strictly in front of her, not even glancing at her feet to see if she was going to trip on anything. Something was following her in the trees. Somehow, she knew. She heard a soft snarl again. The tree canopy rustled. She begged her feet to run faster.

Then, it was dark again. “I can make all of this true. Or I can protect your from it.” A familiar voice resonated. The man appeared, silver light in the darkness, palms turned upwards and outstretched toward Shaffia.

“I’m afraid I cannot express how important it is that I find him.”

Shaffia was back in her shop. The man was still speaking to her.

“What—” Her voice trembled. Her hands were shaking and her heart beat into her throat. The man held his palms toward Shaffia, open hands pointing upwards.

“You see, he is my brother and let’s just say… he has something of mine.”

It was then that Shaffia realized she had been staring wide-eyed and dumbfounded at the man in front of her. The line of customers that had formed behind the man was entirely filled with discontented faces. Shaffia took air into her mouth and exhaled imperceptibly. Somehow, she knew that the man in front of her was not fooled. He smiled, like the taste of her fear was sweet to him.

“I am sorry,” Shaffia crossed her arms. “That you cannot find your brother, but I am afraid I have not seen anyone who looks anything like you describe.” Her voice still trembled. Did he notice? Of course he did.

The customers behind the man leaned forward in attempts to see what the holdup could possibly be. One customer tapped her foot in rapid rhythm and the man’s smile noticeably diminished. He did not glance backward.

“Well, you will tell me if you see him. I’m sure he will be looking for me as well. You may call me Chand.”  He paused, then his smile returned. “And your name is…?”

“You have no need of my name.” Shaffia answered shortly. The same instinct that prevented her from freely sharing her name with Surya nagged her thoughts. Chand’s smile was fixed onto his face as though someone had drawn it on. He was alarmingly pale, so much so that Shaffia wondered if even the small rays of sun breaking through the clouds that day made him uncomfortable. He stood as still as a marble statue across from Shaffia.

“Hm. Either you have met my brother, or you are a smart one.” Chand’s tone lowered. Shaffia fought every instinct she had to turn and run. Where would she have hidden anyway?

 “I imagine he will turn up here, so I would be much obliged if you do not mind my paying you another visit soon.”

Shaffia nodded ever so slowly. She did not break eye contact with Chand, but as he leaned away from the counter, she could not find anything in his eyes. The further she stared, the darker they became. The inkiness within them seemed to wrap Shaffia’s brain and cloud her mind. In the coldness, she began to question what her purpose was in refusing to tell Chand what she knew. He would inevitably find what he was looking for even if it meant lurking in the crevices of Shaffia’s mind to do so.

As the next customer stepped towards Shaffia’s counter, she hoped Chand would not find it within himself to return.

 ***

The sun only seemed to grow brighter and the days warmer each time Shaffia looked up at the sky from her shop. It comforted her. Every time she thought about Surya’s warmth, however, she felt Chand’s coldness. He was dark and foreboding with a strange smirk plastered onto his face. Even after weeks, Shaffia could picture the eyes that were a world of night – simultaneously holding everything and nothing within them.

When Shaffia’s mother told her stories of the sun and moon coming to Earth, they always changed. Sometimes the sun was a fierce warrior pursuing the moon, and other times, the moon was a relentless hunter, chasing the sun and trying to take over the sky. For Shaffia’s mother, both the sun and moon had brought light to the world.

Shaffia, on the other hand, saw the moon as a sinister face shrouded in the darkness of night. The charm of Surya’s bright smile could not have held any desire to pursue Chand. It was completely unlike Chand’s lurking one, which seemed to only seek to do his brother harm. The unnatural coldness that surrounded Chand gave Shaffia the same panic she felt when she thought about the cold fingers that threatened to wrap around her during the darkness of a clouded day. The difference was that in darkness, Shaffia could turn on a light. It did not seem as though she would be able to prevent Chand from returning to her shop and bringing his unnatural coldness with him. Shaffia sat up in her armchair. Or perhaps she could.

That afternoon, she stayed in her shop as the customers left and the day disappeared­. From the height in Myrrah, she could see the stars begin to twinkle, and she locked the door.

Shaffia did not keep particularly deadly herbs in the shop lest they fell into the wrong hands, but if a simple turmeric blend had healed Surya from what seemed like a life-threatening injury, she figured equally simple herbs could do the opposite for Chand. At the very least, the potential danger they posed could give him pause before he re-entered her shop.

She ducked into a small corner behind the counter. From deep inside the shelf, she generously spooned belladonna, along with a few spoons of mugwort, dried marigold, and orange peels. In the right amounts belladonna often healed gut sicknesses, but in excess amounts, it could be toxic to the system. It seemed that whatever the effects these herbs had on the people who came into Shaffia’s store were magnified in beings like Chand and Surya– or at least Shaffia hoped. The marigold and orange blossom would hide the bitterness of the belladonna.

The tea would take hours to brew, and Shaffia would lay in the greenhouse and stare at the sky as it did, wondering what she could have possibly asked of Surya when he was in her shop. In some way, he had brought Chand to her. Had Surya not stumbled in, his brother would not have been looking for him. Shaffia chuckled to herself. If she had known then what she knew now, she might have asked Surya to return Chand’s arrow to him in the shop itself.

The moon was full this night, and Shaffia found herself turning the flame on the burner down to let the tea simmer before she began to drift off in the greenhouse.

***

 When Shaffia opened her eyes, the sun was peeking over the horizon. The greenhouse was already red-hot. She frowned. It was not usually this warm at dawn. Her bare feet pressed into the cold tiled floor as she switched the burner off. The tea in the kettle shone a bright orange as she poured it into a small vial. When Chand returned, she would give him the vial and tell him it would strengthen him enough to find his brother. If the belladonna did its trick, Shaffia would never have to worry about him entering her shop again.

As the sun rose further, Shaffia squinted at the sky, puzzled at how hot it was first thing in the morning. Even in the dead of summer, the sun did not cause her so much discomfort. The door rattled, and Shaffia jumped. She had not unlocked it. She pocketed the vial in her apron and poked her head around the corner.

Instead of a knocking customer, she was met with Surya’s bright, intense eyes. This time, he lounged on her armchair and carried none of his weapons. He was, however, still clad in his brilliant armor and jewelry.

“How did you even get in?”

“You asked me for something.” He did not smile as he had on his first visit. In fact, he looked rather disturbed.

“I certainly did not.” Shaffia shook her head.

“You did.” He insisted. “A request I cannot grant, little healer.”  

Shaffia thought back quickly to her sleeping wish yesterday. “I–“ She tugged at her apron, “I did not intend that to be a request.”

“Didn’t you?” Surya stood slowly, towering over her. “You seem to have found a way to fulfill it yourself, in fact.” He pointed accusingly to her pocket. “Healers do not use their gifts to inflict fates such as the one you have taken upon yourself.”

Shaffia held the vial through her pocket. “Your brother came to my shop. Looking for you, might I add.”

“And what exactly did you propose to do with this concoction of yours?”

Shaffia hesitated.

“You do not know.” Surya narrowed his eyes. “That is more dangerous than I thought.”

“Your brother is cold. Like the night that bleeds through windows and into homes.”

“If the night did not exist, it would always be day.” Surya leaned toward her, holding his hand out.

“Everything is visible in the day.” Shaffia clenched the vial through her pocket.

“There is peace in darkness, Shaffia. Just as there is peace in light. The balance between my brother and I is one that has been in flux for thousands of years. It is one you strike with everything you create. Whatever is in that vial of yours required you to play with a balance just as delicate as the one my brother and I keep. Too much of one becomes deadly.”

Shaffia thought about the belladonna– an herb she typically brewed to heal, now brewed to– do what exactly?  While belladonna could be toxic, she did not have a clue what it would have done to Chand. Gingerly, she placed the vial in Surya’s hand and turned away from him. “You brought him here and I do not welcome darkness in my shop.”

“One of us cannot exist without the other following closely behind. And what will your shop be without the grace of the light or darkness?” Surya’s voice was a playful whisper. When Shaffia turned back around, all that was left of Surya was the sun-drenched armchair.