You see them, they see you.

That has always been how it is with the departed, the formless, the entities. Her interest towards what psychics, charismatics and even experts have failed to truly understand, much more explain, stretches farther than simple curiosity. Delirious in a dimension so strange and dangerous, she finds it irresistible. It captivated her, forced her to see nothing but shadows in broad daylight. It made her lust over death even when life was blossoming all around her.

The allure of the dark, the unknown and the forbidden.

I watch her become a slave to this dark enchantment, I watch as the spell gnaw at her inner light; Her reflection dims, her mind grays. I merely watch because I could do no more than see. She has rejected my attempts at shutting them out. I can only do so much. Father’s gift, free will, is a capricious thing.

I can only look as everyone starts to steer clear of her as they begin to make themselves known through her photographs. I keep my lips dry and unmoving despite the chill that caused the leaves to rustle. I remained powerless to do anything even as the deafening bells of silence overwhelmed her sensitivities.

I stare helplessly at the shapeshifters as they attempted to take forms that our Father’s light never reached.

Then she turned in my direction, and what I saw in those deep pools of hazel disquieted me. I draw my fingers at the sheath of my sword, raising the hilt with my thumb. Desperate, I whisper a prayer to the King, “My Lord, only say the word and I shall reclaim the vessel of your child from the fallen.”

But there was no answer.


I am nothing but space unless you give me form, I am nothing but light if you do not recognize my fire, I am nothing without my orders and He will only grant them if you call.

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