It's a fairly calm and serene day within the city. Lyra finds herself standing in front of a coffee shop, a cup of triple venti caramel macchiato in her hand. She doesn't remember exactly how she got here, but it doesn't feel that uncanny. It's more akin to having just been on autopilot after a perfectly normal, uneventful day. Still, she's had a very nice day, and it's currently transitioning into a beautiful night. The full moon is rising in the darkening sky, and the street lights have come on. There are people about, idly talking and cars driving by. But none of them take note of Lyra, and none of them seem at all interesting.

        Besides, she's on her way to do something. What was it...? Oh right, she was going to meet her girlfriend. It was at a... bookstore or something like that. She could probably remember the name and everything if she tried, but she knows which way to get there and that it's easily within walking distance. She just has to keep walking down the well-lit, safe sidewalk in front of her, and avoid those dark, terrifying side alleys. She feels a sense of dread about them, which doesn't seem to need to be questioned. But as long as she stays in the light, she knows everything is safe.

Lyra felt as though she had just shaken off some sense of ennui... But it wasn't enough to deter her from her plans for the night. And what a night it was! Everything was in order... There was a new place in town, the Witches Brew or something, that she had asked Latona to meet her at. She had been several minutes behind in getting ready, so it stood to reason that she had gotten there first... Especially since she had, once again, stopped to indulge in her usual caffeinated sin. She sighed at herself... Aloud for the moment as she strode down the sidewalk with a sort of rigidity that bespoke her ingrained sense of dread when it came to moving in the city...

And especially the alleys. The shadows yawned, sometimes. Yawning shadows were always a sign of bad energy or something like that. So it was best to stay as close to the road as she could... As well, of course, as minding the cars in the road.

It was a good night. The light, of the moon and of the streetlamps, was enough to assure her of that. And soon... Soon, she would see 'her' Moonlight. All would be well.

        And well the night remains. The crawling darkness of the alleys is restrained to its own domain, providing no threat to any who refrain from entering it. And certainly, there's no reason whatsoever that Lyra would ever enter it... at least until she catches sight of a certain peculiar figure standing amid the sea of unnoteworthy normality.

        Plainly illuminated directly underneath a street light stands a certain brunette woman in a beautiful white dress... And not the one Lyra had expected to meet this night. Rather, one she perhaps wanted to see more than her lover. Her mother. The memory of her death fails to come to mind, buried by the dreamy haze. Of course, that she was lost is far from forgotten, and indeed this likely seems miraculous.

        The woman in white stands in opposite direction of the road, intently staring perpendicular to Lyra. Seeing her mother likely draws enough attention that Lyra doesn't immediately notice what she's staring at... a dark alley directly in front of her. Her head turns, and her eyes peer directly into the witch's. A deep, apologetic sorrow is held within them as the stare is held for what feels like minutes, but likely is only a second or two. And then, she looks forward once again... and walks into the darkness.

        Should Lyra peer down the passage after her, all she would be able to see is darkness, and vauge shadowy images within. Should she call out, nothing would respond. If she takes notice, the entire world around her seems to have fallen still, the street around her silent and empty of anyone who might aid her. Save, of course, for the light. But she knows that the light refuses to aid those that stray outside of its domain.

Mom.

What was she doing here..? Where had she been all this time? Why was she in Prospect and why was she wearing that dress? Her fingertips curled inwards, crushing the cool beverage in her grip as her eyes began to grow wide. The dark was dangerous... It was so so dangerous, and Mom had just gone into it all on her own. She must not have known that the light wasn't going to help her. That the moon couldn't see her down that dark alley hidden by the constructions of men. The clawing, sprawling walls of the city infrastructure would avail her nothing but cavernous, abyssal, despair.

"Mom..."

How Latona would strike her if she knew.

"Mom..?"

How Latona would scorn her if she were to die down that alley.

"MOM!"

But how her Mother would be sad if she didn't come to find her. To save her, sit her down, and talk about everything that had come to pass since she had vanished. To tell her what she had become... What her blood had wrought, and who she had met.

She wanted to tell her everything.

The beverage fell to the sidewalk, heedless of the price. Heedless of anything. And the next thing she knew, she sprinted... Bolted, straight down the alleyway in dogged pursuit of the woman that she had longed for for so long. She was here. In Prospect... And soon? She would see her again.

She could feel that she was already shedding tears.

And so, the silver-haired witch runs straight into the darkness. She doesn't find any direct obstacle to her progress... aside from never seeming able to catch up. The path seems to twist and turn in ways which a city alley shouldn't and goes on so much further than should be possible... but such details are hardly relevant. After all, she's pursuing her mother... and if anything should concern her, it should be the endless sea of writing shadows she passes in her chase. And yet, none of them seem to give their own pursuit of her... not as if she truly has the time to stop and check. For, as she heads further and further in, she keeps catching glimpses of her mother in the distance, slowly walking around the corner out of sight. Always so distant, but Lyra must be catching up.

        But then, she reaches an obstacle. After following her mother around a bend, seemingly almost caught up to her... she finds herself in the middle of a four-way crossroads. All paths lead into thick, palpable darkness, and she can't make out anything in any of the directions. If there's any redeeming quality to the intersection, it's that it contains the first source of light she's seen since leaving the sidewalk. A dim, flickering lightbulb hangs above her, offering a tiny patch of illumination that barely seems large enough for her to fit within. It spreads to nothing past her, and perhaps even makes it harder for her to see. And here, there are four directions from which danger may come from... And three paths which her mother could have taken.

        Unfortunately, she isn't given much opportunity to figure out which way to go. Within the sea of shadows all around her, she hears one of them make a noise behind her, only a few feet away. A footstep. And then, a voice.

        "Hey there little girl, are you lost?" a male voice calls out directly behind her, sounding like it could belong to a member of a 90s boy band, twisted by a distinct creepiness. "Aww, you look scared. You want some candy?" a second voice taunts from the path left of the direction she entered from. It carries deeply similar properties to the first. "Because damn, girl. You look sweet," a third voice calls from the path opposite the second, similar to the first two, but deeper than either. "Sweet enough to eat," taunts a fouth, coming from the remaining path, opposite from the one she entered in. The voice seems to complete a four-boy band, and as he approaches, Lyra can see his looks almost match. The other three advance in unison and their appearances all become plainly visible to her, no longer simply shadows. Three blonde men, and a black haired man, all dressed darkly and in 80s punk attire, with various degrees of exposed chest. Likely quickly noticeable to the witch was that they all had fangs... and all had bloodstained mouths.

She was surrounded.

It was labyrinthian out here... But it was true. She couldn't think about that. She couldn't think about how deep into unfamiliar territory she was getting. She couldn't think about how she was going to lose her way forever if she kept on following this never-ending story... It would never be over. She would never catch Mom, and she would never see her smile again. She would never hear her say how good she had done... How proud that she was. And it was just as that first wave of despair struck that Lyra found herself coming to a halt in the center of that crossroads. The light above her, seeming to her to be no better than the hanging lamp that the 'bad cop' showed in the perp's face when they were being uncooperative... like she was under a lens.

The lens of a magnifying glass held to the sun.

But this was defending her... Right? The light could keep her safe from the encroaching shadow, and she could get her barings and figure out exactly where she needed to go to find Mom! Everything would be fine. Everything would work out. Everything would...

Go horribly. Go utterly, nightmarishly, horrible. The first voice that she heard, she just 'knew.' She knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was exactly what she had feared... Not the tendrils of shadow. Not the typical boogeyman that plagued the dreams of most mortals. But them... With each new voice, she could feel her heart sink lower to the ground. Could feel herself become overwhelmed with dread- and distinct hopelessness that nearly crippled her in spite of all of her best efforts. But she stood. She didn't waver... Not enough to fall, as she spun taking stock of each face.

"I-i..." She began, choking out the words like the vulnerable child they approached her as. "I'm... Spoken for, you know!" She exclaimed with a rebellious tone, "And she'll... She'll kill you all if you touch me! If I don't show up, she will! She'll fucking kill you!" As she insisted, she began to rummage about in her pocket. Her eyes going wide. her breath coming ragged and shallow as she began to hyperventilate... She had the answer. All it would take was one, little, pop...

"And I'm not as helpless as you fucking THINK!"

She threw a packet of sol powder straight at the ground, aiming to fill the crossroads with the blinding light of the sun as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut to avoid the debilitating glare. She shuddered and began to sob... Sob, sob and sob. She sank down towards the ground, wrapping her arms around her legs with her eyes still squeezed tightly shut. She didn't want to look... She didn't want to see. And so? There was no fucking way in Hell that she would. Ignore it long enough and it goes away... Shut yourself down, and it'll all be over.

Don't break.

At first, the vampires surrounding the witch simply laugh at her threats. "I hope so, babe..." the first one says, followed up by the third. "Two hot chicks are way easier to pass around than one." And then the fourth. "She better be as tasty as you smell, or-"

        And then the powder hits the ground. Even with Lyra's eyes closed, the ensuing flash is bright enough that it's obvious that it went off. And the horrible screaming around her makes it clear that it worked. If she opens her eyes soon, she'd catch the sight of burning skeletons crumbling to ash. Either way, she'd find herself in total silence afterwards, with a pile of ash down each path. Even the darkness seems to have fallen still, perhaps beaten into submission by the brief flash of intense light.

It had worked, completely. She did it. She was safe.

        She'd have a minute or two to compose herself, and attempt to figure out which direction to go in, before she'd finally get a fairly clear clue. She'd hear her mother's voice finally... In a scream. It clearly was coming from down the left path, and it was clearly terrifed. And perhaps, in pain.
She couldn't believe it.

The powder was nver meant to work that well. All it did was emulate it, not completely- right? The fact that they had turned to ash must have meant that she did something REALLY right with the last batch. She practically jumped with joy, punching the air in short-lived celebration as something pierced the darkness around her... And again, she exclaimed just one thing.

"MOM!"

She began to run. Fast, hard, her boots pounding the ground in fervid determination to reach the sound of her mother's voice before it trailed off into the nothingness of the abyss once again. She had just killed four vampires... If she could do that then there was nothing back here that could stop her! After all, she had like, two more packs of powder to use!

"Mama! Mom I'm almost there, don't stop screaming! Call my name! PLEASE!"

While the first stretch of the alleyways had seemed nearly endless, it's hardly a minute of sprinting before she reaches her destination this time. Regardless, her arrival was far too late. Her pleading was met not with her mother calling her name, but with her incomprehensibly gurgling in agony. The reason for this would readily be made apparent.

        As Lyra turns around a corner, she finds the narrow alley expanding into a concrete clearing amid brick buildings. The sky was visible overhead, and yet the moon was blocked from sight by overcast clouds. Still, there was plenty of illumination for her to see everything there. Most notable, opposite to her, was her mother... pinned against a wall by a dark figure clad in cloak and hood.

        Crimson drips down from the neck of the witch's mother, staining the beautiful white dress she's adorned in. The stranger's face is pressed into her neck, making it abundantly clear what has happened. Before Lyra has time to advance, her mother's neck is released, followed by her body. It slides down the brick wall into a slump on the ground, empty eyes holding echoes of terror staring lifelessly ahead. The figure stands up straight, and then slowly turns around.

"Hello..."

        The voice is familiar, but more horrifying than any stranger's could be. Slowly, his hands raise to pull back the hood, and reveal his face before saying the words Lyra doesn't want to hear.

"...My darling daughter."
Stop.

She felt that one, sharp instinct. Like if sh came any closer, she would suffer... Like if she took another step, she would be struck down by whatver this cloaked figure was. No... She knew what it was. Rather, WHO it was. So emboldened as she was by the powerful high of slaying four Draculas at once, she hadn't considered the possibility that it could be this. That what was waiting for her in the darkness...

Was Him.

She was frozen, like a block of ice. Her fingertips curled into her palms, digging shallow rivulets into them that no doubt caused thin streams of a tantalizing, erotic crimson to slide down her fingertips... And drip to the ground below. This took time, of course. Time- to process what she was seeing. And in the time it took to process, she found that she could not. That her voice would not come. That her lips would not part. That her defiance could not ring out- just as it had been unable to on that night... The night he had wated him slit her throat. The night she had been pinned, and destroyed by her own progenitor. How she had wished him dead... How she had cursed him and cursed him and cursed him again, so that he might suffer an eternity in every iteration of Hell. How she had relished the fact that she would never see him again. How... How...

How she wished to die to be with her Mother rather than face this twice.

"N-no... You... Y-you ca-" Can't. Can't. You can't. You can't be here. You can't do this to me. Give her back. Give her back. Give her back.

"GIVE... HER... BACK... TO ME!"

It was a roar. Her eyes squeezed shut, as tears began to stream down. She was nothing more than a paper tiger... Folded so perfectly, and made so splendidly- but all it took was a pair of fingers to split her in two. Or in this case, two fangs. Two damnable, poisonous fangs... And the visage of a man she would kill a thousand times over, again and again, if she were only so lucky. But ven in spite of her convictions...

Her body was a traitor.

She couldn't move.

"Back... B-bring Mom back you... You fucking... Monster..."

A disgusting grin grows on the face of Lyra's father, brimming with intense satisfaction over his daughter's terror and agony. A vile chuckle echoes out from his bloody lips, tainted lust growing within his peering glare.

"She's right here, Lyra."

        He reaches out an arm, and slowly begins to advance towards her. His bloody grin widens, revealing the lengthy fangs.

"Come here. Join us, and we can be a family again..."

He continues forward, bloody lewd intent unveiled in his visage.

"Forever."

What could she say to this? What could she do..? When her body was so frozen, what recourse was there for her? What could she do but watch, as the grizly scene repeated itself again? What was her option but to stand and question the fates, why?

And why did the rest of it have to play out too..?

She shook her head. Her body beginning to quiver, completely unwilling to obey Her as the shade of her Father grew ever closer. She could say nothing. For in his sight...

She WAS nothing.

It was just as she was before. Just as she was the very first time that she had witnessed that look in His eyes. She was helpless. Weak. Pathetic. And even if she COULD move... What would that mean? Wouldn't it just be pointless? No... The best choice. The best option.Was to just... Shut down.

And so she tried... But would He even allow her that much?

Lyra's father advances forward, emboldened by her internal collapse. "Good girl. Now, let me show you just how much I /love/ you, Lyra," he says, voiced filled with threatening implication. He reaches for her, fangs out and close enough to notice the lack of any clothing beneath the black robe. It seemed that she was going to get to simutaneously experience two of the biggest traumas in her life... But then, a noise breaks the silence of the night.

"Lyra! What are you doing?! Over here, run!"

        The voice is another familiar one... Although a likely more comforting one. If she seeks the source of the voice, she'd spot her girlfriend standing on top of one of the buildings, right above a rickety ladder leading up to her. Perhaps there was hope yet?

"Hurry!"

Lyra can feel her father chasing right behind her as she makes a dash for the ladder, but she manages to reach it in time to avoid his grasp.

"Where are you going, Lyra? Don't you dare run from your father. If you disobey me, I'll have to punish you. Just like your whore of a mother." He cackles madly, his voice evidence that she barely has distance on him.

        The rusty ladder holds as Lyra rushes up it, old bolts creaking and shaking loose as she ascends. "I know, Lyra! Just hurry! Get up here!" she exclaims. But as Lyra nears the top, the bolts keeping the latter fettered to the wall give loose with a terrible scraping noise, and it starts to tilt... Latona holds the top of it to try to keep it steady, but Lyra can see her father reach the bottom, and attempt to rip it down, with her on it.

        "Lyra! Give me your hand!" the brunette at the top of the latter calls down to her, her own darting down just in reach of the silver-haired woman. She's almost there, but clearly she wouldn't have time to make the last few feet... She'd have to take Latona's hand, or jump for the edge of the roof and hope she can keep her grip on it.

Lyra wasn't far... No, of course she wasn't. But she was right there. RIGHT THERE. Her way out of this was right infront of her, and all she had to do was reach out and take the hand she offered... The lifeline she threw. But just in time, she lunged with all the meager strength available to her pitiful form. It had never been clearer now, than when she was fighting for her life and dignity both, that she was in no shape for the world that they lived in. No shape for a world where monsters and demons lurked around every corner... So she lunged in defiance of that. Lunged to attempt to take her savior's grip in her own.

If she missed, she knew what would happen.

How could she not?..

"Please don't let me fall!" She screamed mid-leap... And..?

There's a furious hissing coming from beneath Lyra, along with the sound of rusty metal clashing against concrete. And yet, she was hanging there mid-air, the tight grasp of her lover around her wrist. "I've got you, Lyra! Hold on!" the brunette cries down, her other hand darting down to double her grip on Lyra's arm. "Lyra..." she begins, with a struggling grunt, beginning to pull her up slightly. "There's something I need to tell you..." What a hell of a time to bring something up.

"Is this REALLY the time, Latona?! Please, just pull me up!" The witch struggled pathetically... Bringing her other hand up to grasp her lover's own, trying in vain to pull herself upwards with the near childlike strength she 'boasted.'

"He's... He's going to fucking hurt me! L-latona he's... He's going to REALLY hurt me! And you! Please... please just pull me up!"

"I know Lyra. He can't hurt you up here. Do you think I'd let anyone hurt the queen of my heart?" The clouds break, giving way to a clear view of the full moon. It looks like the nightmare was about over. The brunette leans her head down, lowering her voice to whisper to the witch despite their struggling.

        "Then again... You do know how I feel about monarchs."

        The brunette suddenly releases her second hand, resulting in Lyra falling back to where she'd first been caught. She keeps ahold with her first hand, but the look of struggle has been replaced with a sadistic, hateful grin. And then the dark laughter.

"I mean, I guess fucking your dad is a pretty 'royal' kind of thing, huh? And a pretty whorish thing," she mocks. She chuckles with mirth, shaking her head. "I really fucking hate you, you know? I always have. I was only playing along waiting for a moment like this, and now..." Her expression falls darkly calm for a moment, peering into Lyra's eyes. "I'll let you get back to whoring."

        She drops her, allowing her to fall a story towards the concrete below. Her fall is broken early, however... as she's caught on the ground.

"Long live the queen."

She couldn't speak. Lyra couldn't speak. She couldn't move. But it was a different type of paralysis than the one that she had felt before her Father... It was something different. Something wholly unexpected. And when she heard it... Not heard. But HEARD. When she HEARD it. It was all she could do to give one last pathetic, childish sob.

"Moonlight..?"

The moon. Her lover. Both of them had betrayed her tonight... And so she fell. Fell, and fell, and fell for what seemed like an eternity. Limp. Broken. Shattered- wholly and completely as she was left at the mercy of this cruel nightmare.

The spectre sits on the edge of the roof, casually kicking her legs as she watches down with great amusement. She continues to wear Lyra's girlfriend's face for the duration of the nightmare, grinning her grin and laughing laugh as darkly as she can accurately mimic. The trauma she witnesses clearly does fill her with great glee... Perhaps this would finally be enough to break her victim? If not... Well, hopefully the witch would put on more Disney movies in the future to give inspiration to her future torments.

        Fortunately, several hours later Lyra would be saved from her constant torment by her alarm clock, ending the nightmare abruptly enough to deprive her the mercy of easily forgetting the details.