[i][h1] Wraith of Dagger[/h1][/i]

Tired. 

I couldn’t think about anything more than how tired I was. I raged against the darkness for... an eternity it seemed, and now? I floated in nothing, comforted by the fight ending. I don’t remember why I fight so hard. Had I been scared? Angry? Sad? I didn’t remember, I don’t think I cared to know. I was... content? Comfortable that was it. The darkness was neither warm nor cold, it just... was. 

When the call started, I thought it my imagination. My brain shutting down perhaps? My mind fighting when my body was done. Until I could start to make out the voice. I couldn’t place it was it here with me or in my mind. I settled on the realization it came from everywhere. 

The glimmer, the light. It burned. I wanted the darkness. I was comfortable, I knew it’s touch, what it never pretended to be. The light was new, the light I couldn’t comprehend. I clenched my fists. My hand gripped something solid. I lifted my hand up. A knife- Dagger? Dirk? Dirk.- rested in my palm, the light illuminated it’s silvery sheen, the darkness swallowing the pitch black handle and onyx pommel. Had I always had this? 

Stay and know all I had known? Go, and perhaps know more. It could be a dream. It could be a nightmare. Perhaps the darkness was salvation. The light damnation. 

The call became deafening. 

My mind wanted to answer the call, my body wanted to stay. A strange thing happened then. I reached out, an impulse of something... curiosity perhaps. Maybe I would be damned, or saved. The darkness chose me, but I didn’t choose it. I became angry again. I grasped what I’d fought for, for what I now knew I clawed, bit, and raged to hold as my own. I stepped through the doorway. 

I made my choice.