Invoke the Dark.

It's so cold here. Wounded, face against the floor. I just want to close my eyes and disappear. Yet I watch as my hand traces stone, leaving a trail of blood.

Faces loom at the edge of twilight, all out of reach. They keep telling me to move, but soft bonds hold them back.

I hope when they all fade away, I can at long last cease my struggles.

I know I will never find that thing I sought as I've slowly been pushed down. I can't limp, I can't even crawl.

But it's hard to lie still. If I could, I would grow numb to all but the weight of failure. It could crush what I little I have left if I just let go.

I only need to remind myself that I'm condemned to just be remembered enough, never to become a chosen soul.

Now I wish only for darkness, for silence in my heart. Slowly, if it must. But an end craved in stone never the less.

If I can't move anymore, why does it still hurt?