The Darkside of the Moon
"Control it, child, or it will consume you."
With a desperate gasp, Demika pushes against the maelstrom raging within her, fighting to rise above the voices, the power, the bloodlust that gnaws at her mind. Her body writhes, her face contorted in pain, but somewhere within the chaos, she finds a sliver of clarity, a single thread of control. She grasps it, holding onto it as if her life depends on it—because it does. Bit by bit, she reins in the power, bending it to her will, drawing it into herself rather than letting it tear her apart.
She starts to utter strange incantations and spell in a strange language even to her, a spells she mayn’t have known the meaning without her spell grimoire…
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