Now, darkness is a harsh term, don't you think?
And yet it dominates the things I see.

"Goodnight, my sweet boy," she said softly, leaning down to kiss her son on his forehead. He shut his eyes, a small smile still lingering on his lips as he drifted away from consciousness. For a few minutes, Ryan just sat at his bedside, admiring the tiny, wonderful human being; wondering how it was possible that she had created him.

Never would she have imagined being a single mother would be such a vigorous lifestyle. She worked seven-to-three at Lawrence Elementary School, picked up Colt from pre-school and made dinner, and then did whatever laundry or tidying up needed to be done around the house. By the time ten o'clock came around, she was tired. It didn't seem like much, but the monotony of an everyday routine had become exhausting.

After she'd taken a shower and brushed her teeth and hair, Ryan was reunited with her extremely comfortable bed. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out.

Thankfully, however, she was a light sleeper.

The doorbell had only rung once and she shot up, her mom-radar immediately going off. When she realized it was someone at the door, she looked to the clock. 2:40 a.m. Weird. They didn't get many visitors these days, especially not in crazy hours of the night.

Ryan slipped on her robe and house shoes and cautiously walked toward the front door. Silently, she prayed that it whatever was standing on the other side wasn't about to attack her. She hadn't fought in years, and it had been an unheard of amount of time since she'd been to the gym. She was completely vulnerable.

She opened the door and let a sigh of relief escape her lips. Her older sister, Emily, was standing before her, using the doorframe to hold herself up. After the initial relief that Emily wasn't a murderer blew over, Ryan realized that her sister was in pretty bad shape. She had a few cuts on her face and was grabbing tightly onto her torso, using the other arm to support herself.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Ryan croaked as Emily nearly fell into her arms. "Let's get you inside."

Ryan walked her slowly into the kitchen where she could use the countertop for support, and began to bring together the makings for an icepack.

Emily held the icepack up to her cheek as Ryan surveyed the wound on her torso, which was bruised in multiple places.

"This looks like a couple of broken ribs, Em. We might need to go the emergency room."

"No," she husked, taking the icepack away from her face. "I've got a warrant out for my arrest in this town. Too risky."

"What happened to you?" Emily let out a chesty cough, spitting some blood into the kitchen sink.

"It was a djin… the damn thing nearly killed me…"

"I can see that. Where was Danny?"

"He was there… he's probably in some alternate universe now," as she spoke, Ryan's attention shifted from Emily's ribs to her face. An alarming expression formed on her face as Emily looked away from her, replaying the story in her head. "The djin was on top of me, that weird blue light coming out of its hand when Danny pulled him off of me and told me run like hell. I knew if I didn't, it would kill us both, so I ran. And now he's there… maybe dead, at least close to it. But I left him there… I left him there, Ry."

The sadness in Emily's face was awakening something inside that Ryan wasn't prepared to feel again. Hurt. Heartbreak. Loss.

She straightened up from her crouch and put her hands on Emily's shoulders. It wasn't important to her that she hadn't hunted in years, or that she was nearly incapable of fighting a human, better yet something with supernatural powers under its belt. It wasn't important that she was more likely to die than prevail. What was important was that every fiber in her being was telling her to go out there, hunt the damn thing down, and save her sister from the unbearable pain of losing her husband. She wouldn't wish that kind of pain on her worst enemy.

"Tell me where the djin is."