The traveler has only ever known light.

They spend their hours in exploration, in the hope that maybe soon, they will find the darkness.

On their travels, they meet new people often, all curious as to why this traveler seeks a void. Each time, they give the same simple answer; how can one understand the meaning of light when that is all they've ever known?

And, often, when the traveler loses motivation, they seek the possibility of the unknown. What is life, but to find that which is unexplored?

So, day in and day out, the traveler walks over hills, through valleys, past towns in search of the land of night, which so far has only been whispers of a rumor. They've heard of it only in hearsay, and only from those who have experienced far more life than all those with hearts still beating. With each tale of darkness comes a doubt that it was ever real. Once, it might have been enough to encourage the traveler to halt their journey. But now, after years of travel, they're sure that it exists.

The farther the traveler goes, the more towns they stay in, the more they hear of the night. This is how they know that they must be close.

And then, after nearly seven years, the traveler reaches a wall.

Not the traditional kind of wall, no; this is more of a barrier, reflecting the landscape right back at them. This is how they know they've found it. The tale had prophesized that once you reached the mountain that acts as a mirror, you only had to pass through to find the land of night.

The traveler pushes their hand through where the mirror seems to begin, and their hand disappears into the air. They push further, until soon enough, their entire body has passed through the barrier.

The traveler has found the night.

To them, there is no way to describe the feeling.

It is cold, colder than it had ever been in the light, and they welcome the feeling, settling into the chill as it calms them, calms their thoughts. They observe the sky, which is no longer a bright blue, but a deep black, speckled with glimmering specks of light, a phenomenon they've only ever seen in the shiny surface of a black opal. Who knew that even in the depths of darkness, you could find light?

For a moment, the traveler is concerned that their hand truly has disappeared into the night. But when they retract their hand closer, they realize their hand had just been cast in the mist of shadow. They've never before had to trust that their hand would still be there if they could not see it. Just because they believe they've lost it, doesn't mean they can't find it again.

The traveler wishes they could stay in this land of night forever. They can't understand why no other person had ever tried to find it; it's the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.

There is no other feeling like the comfort of being blanketed by darkness, of blending into the rest of the landscape and becoming one with the mountains, the trees, the sky, all just one shade of the same color. Nothing is more unifying than the night.