Days of the distant past, emotions rising from the depths. Helplessness in those times, that will to oppose. One once filling with love for the worlds, hatred developing, coming into reality. One loathing the battlefield, torturous experiences, reason in moving forward. Wrath, one embracing the anger deep inside of them. An entity shouting their soul for all to hear, despair far within them lashing out. Feeling this, frightening it is to her. No matter so, Cyra well in awareness that she must continue treading down this path. An eternal abyss, traveling to the brink, bathing in the malevolence deep within. That smallest of light shining, giving hope to this never ending nightmare. Walking through the graveyard, that young woman stopping at the intersection once more. Facing in the direction of the gate, slightly parting it is. Malevolence escaping from it, that devil distantly gazing upon it. Hatred, sorrow, an indescribable force drawing her towards it.

Come closer...

Insecurities existing at her depths, a body constantly shaking where none can see. One seeking release, wings desiring to soar. Anguish at her core, a heart continuously in pain. Thick the surrounding air is, cold the breeze is flowing. Blades of grass moving along, those dying trees withering away. The young woman hearing a voice, that mysterious one resonating through her. Those eyes of the devil slightly widening, that maiden taking a step forward. Her heart steadily racing, that influence reaching out to her. These feelings rising by the moment, darkness intensifying from the gate.

It is power you desire, correct?

Power to do away with your weakness? Your sorrow?

If you desire such, then come, open the gate...

Weakness never going away, hesitancy persisting. Those times forever remaining, sorrow clawing away at her. One wishing for power, desiring days so long ago, a time where those of heaven and earth has been one. Simpler those experiences are, pleasure in her adventures. A bond between two, companions facing their conflicts together. Walking towards the gate, Cyra in a hypnotic state. Those words mesmerizing her, her heart seeking what it does not have. A devil resenting her powerlessness, those horrid memories far within her, despair constantly grabbing at her.

That is right...come...closer...

One traveling in the deepest of abyss, none hearing her voice. A devil continuously screaming out, yet remaining alone. Her heart in bondage, her soul wishing to soar. Those wings unable to fly, that will to resist desperately holding on. Memories scarring upon her, experiences never going away. Malevolence slowly surrounding her, thickening by the moment. That air growing colder, howling extending far and wide inside of the timeless graveyard. Standing on an open pathway, that dark ancient gate revealing ahead. Resting her eyes onward, doubt lingering within her. Slightly looking down, struggling on a decision.

Just a bit more...

Open the gate...

Unleash the hatred deep within you...

Let your emotions be known, oh great Defiler of Souls...

Hatred residing at her depths, those feelings flowing towards the surface. Emotions over so many years, a heart desperately breaking its bondage. That soul yearning to soar, wings wishing to take flight once again. Slowly making her way forward, that voice becoming louder. Malevolence grabbing hold of her, pulling her closer towards the gate. Her heart rate intensifying, a white light brilliantly shining, piercing through the darkness. That cloudy vision of the maiden fixating, her eyes resting onward, witnessing that light shining ever so purely. Hearing the screaming behind the gate, a mysterious power containing this influence. Maria standing in front of the gate, that child forcing back the negative energy.

"Stay...away from her...!" Maria angrily speaks.

That small one resisting, malevolence rushing in every direction. Those eyes of hers refusing to relent, one desiring in protecting her mother. Screaming echoing through, that young woman standing there, gazing upon the beautiful light. Uncertainty on who or what it is coming from, that devil witnessing the gate steadily closing. Closely resting her vision onward, seeing a shadowy figure standing in front of it, pushing away the mysterious force. That figure looking back at the maiden, speaking a few words.

"There is always light in the deepest of darkness, you taught me that..."

Those eyes of the young woman slightly widening, her heart rate intensifying. Hearing those words, familiar they are. Taking a step forward, wondering who this voice is coming from. Even if it is hopeless, one must never give in. Darkness may consume one, but that does not mean it is pointless in resisting. Light always existing, no matter how faint it is. None may hear, but that is okay. Feelings in days of the past, those words keeping her together. Horror may be around every corner, but the chance to soar eventually coming. A somber morrow it may be, but that will to resist forever holding on.

Who is this person...?

A mysterious one coming to her aid, young they are appearing. A voice of softness, innocence portraying from them. A heart in so much pain, one incapable of seeing the form of the girl. One treading in the deepest of abyss, resisting the shackles trying to bind her. Waves of despair crashing against her, hope residing in the most unlikely of places. That figure slowly fading away, the light ceasing by the moment. That gate loudly shutting, Cyra standing there, distantly gazing upon the gate. Her heart racing, those words resonating with her.

"Light in the darkness...." She distantly thinks.

Torment in those days, a body and soul desperately resisting. A heart unable in embracing its desires, hatred brewing for so long. One despising her helplessness, wishing for power. Holding onto valuable words, barely keeping herself together. Turning from the gate, her hand to her chest. Cyra looking down, sorrow inside of her eyes, dread clawing away at her. At that time, within that pleasureful memory. Breeze gently blowing within the grassy field, Cyra's mother standing underneath that sole tree. The woman residing in front of Maria, her smiling of warmness upon the girl. That grandmother in awareness on the child's reason, one wishing to save her mother. Maria remaining there, her eyes upon the ground, holding her hands behind her back. Slightly looking away, her action no doubt a reckless one.

"It is okay, Maria. Though, that was very dangerous. If you were to be lost in this world, you would have forever ceased to exist." Cyra's mother warning.

A realm of danger, those existing inside of it always at a risk. Concerning it has been for the woman, but also understandable. A small one wishing for the safety of her mother, gambling her soul in the process. That girl looking up to the woman, well in awareness on the irrationality of her action. Even so, sometimes it is better to act on emotions. Feelings eternally existing, everyone having them. Consequences may come, but embracing that selfishness is of normalcy. That one so long ago, a girl having pleasureful memories of her mother. Understanding the situation, emotions guiding her way.

"That thing...was going to grab mommy...so I had to..." Maria trying to explain.

Desires of deepness, selfishness paving the way. Everyone having a wish, feelings pushing through. A small one wanting to save her mother, reckless it has been. No matter so, a most natural action. Those residing in between the living and the dead, remaining in limbo. A nightmarish existence, hearts seeking release. Blackness entombing them, but within the deepest of abyss, there is always a light. Sorrow expressing from Maria, her grandmother kneeling to the girl. That woman placing a gentle hand on the head of the child, those eyes of the small one resting upon the person ahead. That girl settling herself, feeling slightly better.

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"Do not worry, your mother is very strong. Even if she is at the depths of despair, she will return stronger than ever. That is simply who she is, she does not stay down, she will always rise to the challenge." That grandmother assuring the child, faintly smiling.

One walking in the deepest of abyss, despair clawing away at their soul. A heart in bondage, wings wishing to soar. Loneliness at the core, blackness surrounding them. A voice never reaching, that resolve to oppose feverishly burning once more. Slightly looking away, Maria taking those words into consideration. That girl resting her eyes past her grandmother, witnessing her mother heading in their direction from afar. That woman looking back, seeing her daughter approaching by the moment. Standing from the ground, turning towards the maiden, firmly holding down her hands. Warmly smiling at the devil, Cyra soon being in front of her mother. Looking away a bit, thinking on the events inside of the graveyard.

"Do not lose heart, Cyra." The mother softly states.

One desiring those days of the past, that wind of freedom in times of blissfulness. Turmoil of manageability, two facing their challenges together. An unlikely bond, but a most powerful friendship. One from ever so high, another walking the land. Feelings developing, words never reaching the other. Maria resting her eyes on her mother, well in awareness that she cannot see her. Sadness gripping at the girl, one trying to hold firm. Even if it may take an eternity, one day her mother will find her way once again. Those eyes of the devil upon the woman, her vision closing for a moment. Slowly shaking her head from left to right, those crimson eyes opening, that mother gazing at her daughter, sorrow inside of her vision. Faintly smiling, Cyra facing away from the woman.

"It is not so bad...I almost forgot...that I used to say, there is always light in the deepest of darkness." Cyra gently uttering.

Surprise expressing from Maria, her mother actually hearing her. A brief moment it has been, a chance existing. Even if it is a somber morrow, light always existing in the deepest of darkness. Despair clawing away at the soul, a heart shackling to the land. Wings yearning to soar, wind traveling in the endless sky. Words of the past, one enduring countless torment. Resolve desperately holding on, grasping at the smallest of chance of gaining her freedom. That time coming along, one grabbing hold of that light. A moment it has been, but that no less enough.

"You are slowly finding your way once again. Keep fighting, Cyra." The mother pleasantly speaks.

Power sealing away, years of helplessness. One loathing each and every moment, searching for any way out. A child of her only solace, her heart holding onto a minuscule chance of success. Even if her own life is no more, her daughter having a way in living far from that tyranny. Failure coming about, a mother taking on the life of her own. A wrong ever so great, her heart paining with that knowledge. Even so, a chance coming about. One seeking those days so long ago, but also desiring in atoning for her sin upon her own. Turning from her mother, Cyra placing a hand upon her waist. Faintly smiling, nodding in agreement.

"Hey, mother?"

"Hm? What is it?" she slightly props her head.

Emotions stirring at her depths, that experience within the graveyard. A light of warmness, words of familiarity. Softness of that voice, her heart desiring an answer. A question weighing on her mind, some hesitancy existing inside of her. Slightly looking away, conflicting her expression is. Trouble lingering at her debts, that young woman having to know who it is. A certain someone possibly existing there, easier it might be in learning whether or not her suspicion is true. Those seeking the nigh impossible, anguish tormenting the soul. No matter so, hope always remaining.

"Did Maria come through here?" she distantly questions.

That feeling from before, warmth washing over her. A mysterious one saving her from a sinister force, words of familiarity. Light inside of the darkness, that will in opposing, even when hope is of littleness. A heart in bondage, chains shackling the soul. That expression of the grandmother turning sorrowful, the woman glancing back to the girl. Those crimson eyes resting upon her in much hope, an opportunity for her mother in finally knowing of her presence. Painful it is, unrest inside of the eyes of the woman. Difficult it is, yet this is the path going forward.

"If you have not heard her, then no." She softly speaks, looking at her daughter.

Dreadfulness of it, unable in coming out with the truth. A mother traveling in the deepest of abyss, fighting against the harshness of the tides. Pain upon the soul, wings yearning to soar. A heart in bondage, one incapable of seeing her own. Guilt tearing away at her depths, that resolve desperately reaching. Maria resting her eyes upon her grandmother, confusion expressing from her. A perfect moment it is, that small one wishing for an answer, wondering on the reason for lying. Little sense it is making, a solution of nearness.

"I see...I am not ready yet..." Cyra faintly smiling.

Distantness of the past, times of horror. Hope of faintness, power inside of a seal. A voice unable in reaching out, desperation grabbing hold. Those wings taking flight once again, a moment it has been. Pleasureful experiences between two, a distressing parting. That woman and the child resting their eyes onward, witnessing the devil passing them. The young woman moving in the direction of the tree, that maiden soon standing before it. Gripping the hilt of Lævateinn, extending it afar. Staking the blade into the ground, malevolence immensely burning from the sword. Those eyes of the maiden gazing upon it, her heart connecting with that weapon.

"You are all I can rely on. Lævateinn, accept the hatred deep within me..." She distantly states, her hand reaching towards it.

Hatred of deepness, feelings of the past slowly making their way into reality. Basking in the bliss of the wind, spreading those wings once more. Painful it may be, agonizing even, yet that will to resist forever existing. Traveling through the harshest of abyss, fighting against those tides. That vision gazing upon the endless sky, seeing a path towards a brighter morrow. Lævateinn crying out, darkness intensely exerting, thickening by the second. Malevolence flowing out of the young woman, merging with that of the weapon.

The demon sword radiating negativity, that power concentrating. The woman and child bearing witness to this, seeing the energy flowing out, ascending high above. That force moving towards the massive version of itself within the background, the blade assimilating the energy. That demon sword pulsing black and red, its aura emanating. Gripping the hilt of Lævateinn with her right hand, intense negativity escaping from the weapon. Her eyes gentle upon it, that young woman removing the sword from the ground. Raising it high, that blade shimmering in the warmth of the sun.

"Lævateinn, unleash our cries, let our souls be known..." She softly speaks.

One enduring those years, unable in protecting her. Her suffering evermore distressing, a plan coming into place. Two working together, that smallest of chance. Even if it shall mean an ending, death of her solution. Painful it has been, that sword following her request. A failure coming into place, but also a way in continuing its existence with her. Maria and the woman fixating their eyes onward, resolve renewing from the devil. Cyra lowering her weapon, malevolence spiraling around the sword. That maiden turning towards her mother, another trial in completion.

"It is time for you to return huh...to the world of the living once again." That woman warmly smiling.

Nodding in agreement, that young woman returning a smile in kind. Pleasureful these experiences has been, embracing in the bliss of her mother. The light of the sun shining down, that gentle breeze flowing through. The grass swaying in the wind, a heart free in this illusion. Turning in the direction of the tree, Cyra gazing upon it. Taking a moment, feeling warmth deep inside of her. One never truly alone, a place she can return to. An actual home once again, her troubles no more than a nightmare. Walking onward, standing in front of the tree. Extending her offhand, touching the bark of the object. Familiar emotions flowing through her, a place of comfort. Facing in the direction of her mother, Cyra resting her eyes upon the woman. Maria looking onward, sorrow within her vision. A child wishing for her mother to remain, but such cannot be. Staking Lævateinn into the ground beside her, that devil sitting down. Bracing back against the tree, the wind blowing harder, that scenery all around becoming brighter by the second.

"Rest now, Cyra." That mother softly speaks.

Torment eternally upon the soul, pain never leaving. Experiences of the past both blissful and terrible, yet that chance coming about, a path towards her happiest days. Regret penetrating the depths of her mind, a mother desiring to right her wrong. Emotions ever so conflicting, yet her resolve feverishly igniting. That young woman looking onward, sleep coming over her. Slowly shutting her eyes, a blurry image of a small person at the side of her mother. Inadequate time in processing this, her vision completely closing. Slightly turning her head, falling into a deep slumber.

There is light in the deepest of darkness...that will forever remain true. No matter the hatred, the sorrow I feel...I will continue to press onward. This dream...this desire...it will become a reality once more. Wherever you are Maria, I will find you one day...I promise...