18 - Black - Rating: G

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He hadn’t noticed how many different shades of black could exist. There was the black of absolute midnight, where away from torchlights and lanterns, one could see the vaguest hints of blue mixed in the blanket of black.

There was the black of the ink with which he wrote his poems and songs, an unceasing void of swirling darkness that was bereft of any other shade but deepest black.

There was the black of his own hair, wild and free, tinted with ever-so-dark red and brown, highlights that showed in direct sunlight, highlights he often forgot existed.

But it was the black of Shar’s skin, ebon-grey really, like nothing he’d had ever seen before, a shade like darkest slate, but lighter than obsidian, and yet a color he couldn’t quite put words to that made Connor realize just how truly beautiful a color black was.