I am but a simple angel wailing from a pit gorged in darkness.

I have been thrown here not by my own will, but by the wrath of the legionary superior.

She lashes at my body, waiting for a moment to dig her nails under my mind and invade.

What have I done do be cast here?

Was I not quick enough?

Was I not useful enough?

I tried my hardest.

I truly did...

The shadows wrap their dark tendrils around my legs and arms when my eyes begin to shut.

But I twitch to scare them off.

They are antsy. Yet, eager.

They are quick to scurry away, and retreat when I curl my limbs closer to my body.

. . .

. . . . .

But other times, I know there is something else here. With me, stalking.

It is not her..

I do not hear her calling my name, throwing a blade for us to continue our practice.

I can't see it, but I know it's there. I catch glimpes of it from time to time but I can never process what I see. It is too dark.

But maybe this time I will. Maybe this time I will see the figure in the dark.