Magic
After all of these years, despite how cold and hard Evil-Lynn became, the memory of her mother and father dancing, illuminated in the night by crackling fluorescent energy surging in the air, could warm a part of her heart. So rare it was to see them together, to see the love the two shared. When they heard her behind them, her father laughed loud and deep in joy, and she wished she could have seen his face just once. It was that night at the young and innocent age of eight her education in the mystic arts began. Magic...it was something so beautiful, so powerful, and as the years passed it pulled--reached deep down inside--and woke a part of her she had never known existed. She learned spells of healing, spells of protection, spell after spell she dived in thirsting for the rush of power.
Her mother's magic was peaceful, simple, and pure, but what she secretly wanted was to channel the kind of power her father possessed. While her mother may have wielded magic, her father commanded Power. She had felt the tremendous arcane energy at times when they would practice together. So similar, and yet so different from her own. She could sense it though occasionally, something burning just out of reach, and somehow she knew she could grab it if given the chance.
Then one night after the Wars began and after her father received summons to stand in defense of Eternia with the Elders, at the age of seventeen her innocence was forever lost. As her mother's dying screams pierced the frightening twilight, alone and surrounded by the Horde, she reached out for the only weapon left...magic. And spurned by pain and rage, knowing protection spells weren't enough, her education in the Dark Arts began.