Darkness was an area that everyone feels fear in at one point or another in their lives. As children, we fear it because of the unknown. What could be lurking in the depths of it, a survival instinct. Stay away from it. Or to hope for a light in it, no matter how faint or almost insignificant, to guide you through it. That you may be able to see past it all, the confusion gone as you know what you are really dealing with. Except in her case. That fear, it wasn't there in the same way. She held her own type of darkness, the demons that danced within. The urges and thoughts that held her mind at times, the ones she bit back wondering if this was how sociopaths and psychopaths really attempted to question their own reality and bend it. The fight before the acceptance and allowing it to swallow her whole. It was difficult to explain these things to other people, where she didn't feel anyone really accepted it or believed her. And in other times, she worried about the fear that would come over them over it, or the opposite. Not feeling it, but disbelief. Some high level of trust she felt would bottom out once that line was crossed. People left, that's what they did. It wasn't always for a reason she could sit there and claim that it held no right. If anything, she could understand why someone would. Not that she would either, but she could feel it bubbling, brimming on the edges of her.

The way the shadows danced at the tips of her fingers. It was a spark of life to a dangerous mind. The power that was held within her, the knowledge that catapulted about, but she couldn't absolve herself of. It was almost as if lightening crashed against the ground. The electrical impulses in the air. The positive and negative energy surrounding her. It left her speaking words that held its own crackle into the air. That light holding that very same darkness.

Everyone always wants to believe the good in a person. Run away from the bad, fight it, that was how life was. The yin and yang, except what happened when there was nothing left to fight? What happened when you could make sense of it all. There was a beacon calling out to her. A shout to her mind, in a nagging way. A feeling, the urge that left her drawn to the world. All she ever wanted to do was help, but she couldn't even help herself. A distraction from the wickedness that dived into the depths of her. It had been rid from her before, only it wasn't her. Another life, another time, another place and death occurred to gain this. Death around a corner she could not yet face.

As she followed these thoughts, these separate feelings, she found it. Darkness. There was no pain there, nothing to feel at all. Cold, isolated, a place to relax and hate all at the same time. She needed more, and knowing full well that something wasn't right she tried to move but found herself unable to. Surrounded by magic, forced to the ground. There was no one there but the candles burning around her, a dim flickering licking at the air. A change in her body as she laid there. Words spattered in other tongues, but the face was unseen.

Was this all a dream? How was this real? Another joke or test that left her awake in some chair, strapped down in a warehouse somewhere? It didn't feel right, it did feel too real. She opens her mouth, she calls out, but nothing comes out. There are no words to be heard, no sound. Pressing on, she tries, continues only screaming now. Her mouth moving, and nothing still. Its someone else speaking, someone else's words but its all wrong. She knows where this is going, she can't stop it. Everything is set into motion. The memories, the tears that fall from her eyes, unable to change, unable to do anything, left without her own natural choices. There are parts of her that wants this, drives on wanting to cling to it, believing she deserves every ounce of it. But the whole of her, she fights. Not enough, there's nothing she can do and she'll hate herself for this. She'll hate her and it eats at them both. No choices, no thoughts, its no one's fault. Where will the blame be placed and does it matter in the end? Her orders are clear and she is the daughter of Trigon. No matter which she she is, she is this and she will do as she is told. Magic and a force of will provoked onto her. This life is no longer her own.

Cloaked in darkness, she follows. The weather didn't cause her to need to force it. The light is nearly washed from the day, so she adds to it. Not enough to create any issues, no special newscasts. Her intentions are set on the electricity. Causing a problem to draw them out. She can't go home, he'll be there. This won't end well for either of them and she's sure of it. The feelings that would be drawn out, the ones that would be felt from him and her. The pain that would be caused. She didn't want to hurt him and even though she had little will here, that was not the objective. One of many. Not enough. So very human. She needed more of them. The wall mattered here and the war to rage on.