Epilogue: Entering The Dark

Medea felt herself swirling through darkness. She was falling... father and farther... forever, it seemed. Would she ever stop? She wondered... And then she realized she was screaming, and kicking, and flailing with all her might, and it all rushed back. Sharley, the lightning, her father: Terrible in his anger, his grief at betrayal. His power as he spoke, as he showed her the Dark, as he tore the fragile fabric of the world and cast her in. Just as she remembered, she felt herself slam into the ground. Reeling from the force of the impact, she sat up slowly, then stood and surveyed the frozen, desolate land. She was here, in the seventh plane of the magical realms, the Circle of the Dark, and it was just as she remembered. The icy hills, the frozen wastes, the gruesome beauty of the crystals of ice; the trapped souls of the weak! Of the unworthy! Of those not strong enough, lacking infallible, unbreakable will to survive, to dominate. A burning torrent of pure joy blazed through her. She had survived. She was not an ice crystal. She was a dark sorceress! She let out a savage scream, full of exhilaration and tinged with madness, and laughed, a fullthroated, echoing laugh , vibrant with elation and triumph.

And then she heard a faint whisper on the air. "Medea..." the wind seemed to breath. She turned around slowly, and came face to face with a being of shadow, towering above her. For a moment she was consumed by fear and seemed to shrink slightly, but then awe and wonder overcame all other emotions and she raised her head.

"Yes! YES! Grandfather, I have come, alone of your kin. I, alone, had the courage to face my destiny and seek greatness and power!" She gazed admiringly at him, and the other shadowy forms that had appeared behind him. "I have come to join you, and your people, and stand now before you, in the glory of your presence and wondrous kingdom..." her voice trailed off as she caught the cold look he was directing at her.

"You are weak," he said simply, curling his lip with scorn. The words pierced her like ice-cold knives, frozen and deadly, and she felt herself falter.

"You should not have come," said another shadow.

"You will join the others who came, and were defeated."

"But first..." said her grandfather, coming forward. "We will have a little fun, will we not, Medea?" He took hold of her arm and peered down into her face. Medea felt a deathly cold wash over her, and felt herself inundated with despair. What had her father said, before throwing into the Dark? "You will be captured and tortured by your grandfather's people"? She had not believed him... She smelled the shadow beings, the people of the Dark, drawing closer. The stank of the cold of the grave. Freezing, rotting, and dead. She screamed, and the sound of her terror echoed far across the snowy wastes of

the Seventh Realm.

Author's Note: This is my first fanfic, please review! Let me know what you think, and if I got the genre and rating right. Thanks!