Duke entered his brother's audience chamber in a shroud of darkness. It was his most impenetrable dark, and it pulsed from his brow to the rhythm of his heart, flashing along his magnificently curved ram's horns like inverted embers, flowing from their tips down over his shoulders where it added to the black silken cloak that spread behind him while blurring its edges.

As king of the black witches, he was naturally somber, but now his gloom was like a physical force. There would be no doubt about the mood in which he sought John.

In the bright atrium where his brother received visitors, his darkness became a contrast as eye-drawing as a lamp in a dark cavern. Many of the white court were gathered there, frowning at the shadows he brought.

John, however, was not frowning but beaming, of course. Such was, after all, his nature as the king of the white witches. His fangs glinted like diamonds in his radiant smile and the crystals in his wreath-like crown glittered like a myriad rainbows.

Duke halted before the throne and bowed curtly, as to an equal. His spiked tail swished slowly behind him, swirling the darkness that trailed behind him along the floor.

"Welcome, brother," John said benevolently. "What brings you here in such a dark mood?"

"That, brother," Duke sighed huskily, "we both know was an unnecessary question."

Did the slightest of frowns darken the friendly smile on the white king's face?

"The courtesy of asking is never unnecessary, I would say, but yes, I do know the cause of your gloom."

Duke nodded once, slowly, and said nothing.

"But what I don't know," John continued, "is what you expect me to do about it. Those who have left your shadow to seek the light of the white kingdom have done so freely. Who am I to turn them away?"

"Who you are?" Duke laughed quietly, bitterly. "In case you have forgotten, you are the white king, lord of stark daylight, of light and growing and of burning fire. You are not the king of merciful shade, of darkness and delving and soothing water. Such is the domain of the black witches, and I am their rightful king."

"But as you know, they remain in the shade, delving and soothing as they should, even when turning to the light and calling me their rightful king. Would you deny them their right to do so?"

"I would not," Duke admitted. "They are free people. But how are you to lead them as their king when you have so little knowledge of our art? Have you told them that?"

"Do I need to?" John asked gently. "Has anyone disputed your mastery in those arts? Why can't you lead them in that even if you are not their king?"

At that, Duke stiffened.

"Leading the people in their arts is the duty of their king," he said. "How, then, could I lead them if you are their king?"

"I have given it serious thought," John said, amiably. "I would dearly love to have you lead the black witchdom, not as their king, but as my right hand, a faithful, beloved vassal and minister."

Duke sought his brother's eyes. Only sympathy streamed from them, as from the faces of all the courtiers gathered around. Some of which, he realised, belonged to the black court, not here.

Sympathy was not what he sought. The darkness about him thickened, gathered in quicker pulses on his brow as his heart beat faster and lingered about him until only his pale face and deep-grey eyes gleamed through. A lock of his thick hair, the colour of freshly dug-up, moisture-laden loam, came away and underscored his right eye like an exclamation mark.

"So you would dethrone me, remove my crown. Is that it? I have only carried my crown for less than a year, and before that our mother wore it. You have worn yours for less than two years longer. When did you start thinking that you should wear the only crown? Before or after I was given mine?"

"After," John replied candidly. "And after I saw how the black kingdom would be weakened under your reign. But do not see it as a failure. Perhaps the time is ripe for our kingdoms to unite?"

"No," Duke said forcefully. "I don't see failure here but sheer folly. Don't you remember mother's words? How fortunate, she always said, to have one white and one black son so close, to reign side by side and keep the balance between darkness and light more perfect than ever."

"I do remember," John chuckled. "Of course she would think so, she was a black witch after all."

Duke's voice turned to ice.

"Do you dishonour her and disdain her words for being a black witch? What will she say, I wonder, when she returns at your Royal Judgement to see if you are deemed worthy?"

"I mean no dishonour," John replied, a slight flush dimming his radiance. "I mean only that as a black witch, she - like you - see the black arts as perhaps more crucial than they really are. When she returns, maybe she will see my achievements and acknowledge the greater importance of light."

"The greater importance of light," Duke echoed hollowly.

"For creation! Achieving! For actually getting worthwhile things done! Yes, that is the essence of light. What achievements will you have to show when your five years have passed?"

"The greatness of darkness is not in achievement, as well you know," Duke hissed through his teeth. "I should not need to teach you what the essence of black witchdom is."

"You needn't," John replied, waving his hand dismissively. "The black side is, of course, important - really indispensable! But why does it really have to be equal to the white side in order to serve its function? Tell me that!"

"Ha!" Duke exclaimed. "You do not have the patience for hearing the answer to that, O king of achievement. You would need to enter into darkness yourself to understand, as you should have if you hadn't been too busy gaping at the marvels of light. Or is it that you fear the darkness?" Duke was shouting as he finished.

Something bright blue fluttered up to John's left side. Clad all in sparkling pearls and jewels, Evie, their younger sister, came up and put her little hand on her brother's arm. Her eyes were round, and bright though she was, there was no smile about her.

"Is Duke angry?"

Pain welled up in Duke. Evie, only seven years old, had been the first to take John's side. Before, she and Duke had spent time together in the black kingdom, walking in silence along starlit pools, exploring deep caverns and hidden lore or simply resting in the shade, idly chatting about everything and anything.

But the bright, bustling, eventful life in the white kingdom had captured her more. And, John, the elder brother, who always sounded so sensible and reasonable, had somehow persuaded her, without ever saying so, that she should settle there with him. From time to time she would visit Duke, but always as a guest, never to stay.

Evie was the love of the land, the pearl princess, and Duke missed her sorely. But what was worse, so did everybody else in the Black kingdom. And more and more of Duke's people had chosen to call John their king, even though their arts and work, aye, their very spirit, belonged to the dark side.

To the point where there was none left to call Duke king. All he had was his crown and now, John would have that as well.

No. It would not be borne. Was Duke angry? Yes, he was. But before he could start explaining why to Evie, John spoke.

"He is, dear. But we must be patient with him, so that he also may see the light."

It was too much.

"See the light?" he snarled. "I am probably the only one who really see the light. The rest of you? You've been staring at the light until you're dazzled, blinded, fallen to worshipping the light."

A gulping hiccup came from Evie. Her lips trembled and her eyes were blank. Then she hid her face in her hands, sobbing. A white courtier quickly took her in her arms, patting her back and hushing her.

"You're frightening Evie, Duke!" John said sternly. "Will you not remove this darkness of yours and let yourself be seen? What are you hiding?"

"I'm hiding nothing, brother, I am showing myself clearly. Have you forgotten that the black witch king belongs to the dark? Or have you truly come to fear the darkness? Is that why you haven't visited the black kingdom since you were a boy?" Duke's voice lowered menacingly. "Perhaps you've even taught Evie to fear the dark?"

At that, Evie shook her head violently, whether in fear or denial or both. John also shook his head, now clearly in anger.

"I do not fear the dark, but I belong to the light and at my court, I will have light. Remove that darkness or I will do it for you!"

"I am still king, John. Since when does a king take orders?"

John thumped the armrest of his throne and stood up.

"So be it! I will show you the light and you will be revealed."