As soon as the last speck of light vanished she broke through and crumbled to the ground. She was very weak from being trapped in the statue. Light was her enemy and she gained strength from the darkness. As she laid mangled on the ground she could already feel the power slowly being absorbed back into her bones. But the light would return again. She must find a way to destroy all light. . .
Laying on the ground, for the moment too weak to even move, the happy laughter of the water folk reached her ears and made her blood boil. it was almost too much for her to handle. Smertala's hatred of all things cheerful gave her enough strength that she managed to crawl away from the dreadful sound into the dense underbrush of the nearby forest. In the blackness, she could feel her strength returning and her mind becoming less clouded. If she was, this time, to win the war against light, she must return to her fortress underneath the everlasting swamp. As she sat brooding over how to accomplish the 1,000 mile journey to her swamp home, a shriek sent the air, lifting her spirits with the absolute horror she could feel emanating from the voice of the water-nymph that had just discovered her statue-prison, broken to pieces on the ground. A horrible smile lifted the corners of Smertala's Lips. . . .
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