When it happens, it happens fast.
It blurs into singular motions warped in strides, it's a quickness that lopes and plods with terrifying haste suspended in the gloom, haunted by a scarlet glow and glimmers of baited bone that snap rigidly through shadow. Emma inhales, sharp, whistling through gapped lips and teeth and the banked darkness at her heels is abloom, expanding far and wide and whippingly fast in its security as such rapidly attaches to Damien's casted shadow. Miniscule twitches of muscle within her hand suddenly spasm, a quivering tell of danger that spells coldness across her limbs, rigid and binding, she gasps around the wealth of power pooling across their connection that arises within her and surrenders her visual to rejoin his own graces. Emma moves, and when she does, the eclipse of the night responds with haunting tilts of the sky, stars suspended in colliding pings that reflect upon her eyes brightened by swirling starlight.
But they move much quicker than she, her person guided back, told to remain at the water's edge less she come to harm; stay back, we've got this. You'll only get in the way. She knows she's not useful in such an affront, her prowess is afforded to decimation and subtle harm, something that festers and accelerates treacherously slow, rather than the sudden and harshness of outright strength. Emma gazes upon those thick into the fray, summoning weapons of valour and within the images of their patronage that christens them almost godly. Raw potential and power coiled upon the fringes of warrior intrigue and brutality. Champions, she thinks sudden and swift, landing on shields, rapiers, manipulated alloys and righteous crests of a manifest. Mortal frailty is not found here and she is breathless in reproach and perhaps fear of the sudden unknown. She seeks out Damien helplessly, her shadow a flicker of a connection that clutches desperately to his slickly coated shoulders quivering broad and weighted in his power, her palms burn, but she cannot respond beyond wet gasps and wide eyes rapt in diving nebulas donned in concern.
"Damien..." she breathes on a feathered whisper and with Shadow now formed, Emma quiets and stills, hair lazily toiling upon an unseen breeze.
Such a creature is not unknown to her entirely, it's akin to an exposition of her eternal nightmares, endless skies, and careening shadows, compiling haphazardly amidst her waking world and stilling within her bones. The voice sluices upon her pores, blackened and rippling with malice, every assault and blinding attack christened white and blinding, martial competence that blurs seamlessly together as they attack. Terrifying screeches peel through her ears with wanting pain, bubbling laughter that pursues Shadow's eerie cry that is wholly mocking and baiting. Each blow and parry and impale lands true, with slick blood that reeks of poison oozing from yawning sores, Shadow slumps forward from their assaults, wicked teeth having risen into a smile, snapping around a blackened tongue that uncoils and drenched in death.
But it does not fall, not yet.
Emma has not realized that she has stepped forward, breaking among the crowd protected by the shores of the lake, bounded by her shadow, spurred by an unknown force that compels her strides whilst Shadow falls, foiled to its knees. A roar of laughter rings against her ears as the creatures raises both arms, black tendrils swirling amidst the bi-mortal children, slithering betwixt her figure then, taunting as it speaks.
"This is all the children of Gods have to show?" Shadow hissed, a slithering speech that rocked Emma to her core. "Pathetic. Undeserving. Mistakes."
Shadow's barbed tail coils then, bunched together before it releases, bidden by reflexes that released numerous projectiles upon the earth, shadows pooling forth in their wake. One comes dangerously close to Emma, a black barb grazed upon her cheek that weeps red upon her pale skin. She flinches, only barely, and listens as another voice summons forth upon her mind: whisper soft and delicate, a blanket to soothe her frayed nerves and soul burdened by the power jolting between her and Damien. Emma's lashes peel wide, her gaze brightened incredibly so, silver stars that bolt across the eerie blackness of her eyes that shimmer then with knowing.
You can help...
Emma kneels, nails raking across whipping shadows, grasping such within her usually fragile gestures now confident and sure, muscles thriving and bounding, her heart aflame and anxious. She breathes around a surge of power that boils within her veins, it wakes across the shadow joined between her and her brother and through such she siphons his emotions: his usual abrasive nature, and confidence within a battle, his raw potential. Emma inhales all of this and more, silver tears spiked upon her lashes whilst she tugs, pulls, ripping apart the veil of shadows usually commanded to shield her within. The rendered darkness splits into a yawning abyss of a void, an endless and desolate pitch that groans eerily within a low-crowned crescendo of barely constrained fury.
"Force it into the void," she cries. "Let it be lost, forever."