It would be so easy for this little light to die in the black swamp of pain. But it clings on for dear life as do the victums of the creature killed by its hands. The smothered light gets smaller and smaller. The only thing keeping it from dissappearing is a faint memory of something better. A memory that is only a wisp of cloud in a vast empty sky. It is a the only thing that keeps it differnt from being a fully dark soul.