She moved carelessly, with no thought of the pain brought on by the Shadows, the Darkness. She was bright, pure, and full of life. Her voice resembled silk, which earned her the nickname "Child made of silk."
She was young, and she had no fear. Nothing to keep her away from her destiny.
She raised her arms, and accepted her fate. She was to became a beacon of hope, the flower of joy.
Tendrils swarmed around her arms, her legs. The white dress she wore shown so bright, it fought back the shadows creeping up.
This child, this young girl, is the shining star in the night, the lamp in a dark bedroom.