Chapter 48: The Demon's Daughter and the Tea of Darkness
The weather in Kyoto had decided to reflect the universe's mood, or at least, so it seemed. Rain fell on the shop's roof with a monotonous and gray rhythm, a cold drizzle that didn't clean the air but made it heavier.
Inside the physical shop, the atmosphere was charged with static electricity that made the hair on one's arms stand up for no apparent reason. Kara was lying on the sofa in the pocket dimension's living room, legs dangling over the armrest.
She was trying to read a mystery novel Barda had recommended (apparently, the Apokolips warrior loved plots where the butler did it). But Kara couldn't concentrate. There was a pressure in the air.
It wasn't a physical threat. There were no villains breaking down the door or satellites falling from the sky. It was a sensation of cold. A cold that didn't register on the thermometer, but at the base of the spine.
Krypto, who was sleeping on his rug, lifted his head sharply. He didn't bark. He simply emitted a low whine, a sound of primal unease, and crawled to hide under the sofa, tail between his legs.
"What's wrong, boy?" Kara asked, closing the book.
She looked toward the door connecting to the shop above. The shadows in the hallway seemed... longer than usual. Darker. And they were moving, twisting like thick smoke even though there was no draft.
Ding-a-ling.
The shop bell rang. The sound was muffled, as if the bell were wrapped in cotton. Kara stood up, feeling a pang of alarm. She didn't use her super speed. She walked cautiously toward the main shop. The front door was open.
A figure stood on the threshold, dripping rainwater onto the stone floor. It wasn't a regular customer. It was a young girl, perhaps Kara's apparent age or a little younger.
She was wearing a dark blue hoodie, two sizes too big, with the hood pulled forward to hide her face. She wore worn black jeans and soaked canvas sneakers. She was trembling. But she wasn't trembling from cold. She was trembling like an engine about to explode from overheating.
"Hello?" Kara said, approaching slowly. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"
The girl raised her head. Kara stopped dead. She recognized that face. She had seen it in the League files and in the news about the Teen Titans. Rachel Roth. Raven.
But she looked terrible. Her skin, usually pale, had a grayish, sickly tone, like wet ash. She had deep, dark circles under her eyes, which seemed sunken in their sockets.
And her eyes... her violet eyes were full of frantic terror, that of a trapped animal knowing the predator is already inside the cage.
"Don't... don't come closer," Raven whispered. Her voice was raspy, as if she hadn't spoken in days. "It's... dangerous. I can't... I can't keep him in."
"Raven," Kara said, softening her tone. "It's me. Supergirl. You're safe here."
Kara took another step. It was a mistake. Raven shuddered violently. The shadows around her feet came to life. They weren't normal shadows. They were tentacles of solid darkness, black as ink, rising from the floor like furious cobras.
One of the shadow tendrils struck a nearby shelf.
CRASH!
A glass jar full of mint candies exploded, sending shards and sweets through the air. Kara raised her arm to protect her face, surprised not by the attack, but by the lack of control.
"I'm sorry!" Raven screamed, clutching her head with her hands, digging her nails into her scalp. "It wasn't me! He's pushing! He wants out! Stay away!"
The darkness began to expand, filling the shop, blotting out the gray daylight, turning the space into a nightmare cave. Kara prepared to contain her, but she didn't know how to fight a shadow born from a friend's fear.
Then, a sound was heard.
Fwoosh.
The sound of a fan snapping open. A gust of spiritual wind, charged with warm, golden Reiatsu, swept through the shop. It wasn't a strong wind, but it was dense. Raven's shadows, which looked solid and furious, dissipated upon contact with Urahara's air, like cigarette smoke in a gale.
The darkness receded, shrinking back toward the girl's feet. Urahara Kisuke stood in the doorway to the back room. He was wearing his usual attire, and his face showed neither fear nor surprise. Only a calm, clinical curiosity.
"My, my," Urahara said, walking toward the center of the shop, ignoring the broken glass crunching under his sandals. "Raven-san. You look... dense today. Spiritually speaking, of course."
He stopped a meter from her, fanning himself gently.
"And I am afraid that was a limited edition jar of Himalayan mint candies. Very difficult to restock."
Raven looked at him. Urahara's presence, his stable and overwhelmingly calm aura, seemed to act as an anchor. She let her hands drop to her sides, breathing heavily.
"You..." she gasped. "The Shopkeeper. Kara said... she said you understood these things."
"I understand many things," Urahara said. "And those I don't understand, I invent. Tea?"
"I don't want tea," Raven said, her voice breaking.
She dropped to her knees, exhausted, as if her legs could no longer support the weight of her own soul.
"I need help. Please."
Urahara crouched in front of her, getting to her level. His gaze turned serious.
"What is wrong, Raven-san?"
"It's my father," she whispered, and the word "father" sounded like a curse. "Trigon. He is... he is awake. More than ever."
Raven looked at her hands, which were trembling uncontrollably.
"Before... I could contain him. I could meditate. Azarath, Metrion, Zinthos. The mantra worked. It built a wall. But now..." she sobbed. "Every time I try to meditate... every time I try to calm my mind and open the door to Azarath... he is there. Waiting. Screaming."
She looked up, her violet eyes full of tears.
"I can't sleep. If I sleep, he takes control. I can't focus. If I relax, he pushes. It's like... it's like having someone screaming in your ear twenty-four hours a day, telling you to burn the world."
She grabbed the sleeve of Urahara's kimono with desperation.
"I can't take it anymore. I feel like I'm breaking. I feel like if I let go of control for a second, I will become the gate and he will come in and kill everyone."
She looked at Kara, then at Urahara.
"I need you to take him out," she pleaded. "I know you are powerful. I know you do impossible things. Exorcise me. Cut him out. Take this thing out of me. I don't care if I lose my powers. I don't care if it hurts. Just... take him out."
Silence filled the shop. Kara looked at Urahara, expecting him to say yes, that he had a machine or a spell to fix it. But Urahara didn't smile. His expression turned somber, almost sad.
He looked at the broken girl in front of him. He saw the darkness swirling in her core, not as an external possession, but like a drop of ink in a glass of water. They weren't separate. They were mixed.
Slowly, he shook his head.
"I cannot do that, Raven-san," he said softly.
Raven froze.
"Why? Is... is he too strong? Are you afraid?"
"No," Urahara said. "Fear is not the problem."
He pointed to her chest, over her heart.
"The problem is anatomy. Trigon is not a parasite, Raven-san. He is not a tick that can be plucked off. He is half of your soul."
Urahara stared at her.
"Your existence is a fusion. Human and Demon. Light and Darkness. If I try to 'exorcise' Trigon's part... if I try to cut out that half of your spirit..." he made a cutting gesture with his hand, "...it would kill you. Or worse. It would leave you as an empty shell, mindless, will-less, lifeless. It would be a spiritual lobotomy."
"And that," he added, recovering a bit of his light tone, "would be very bad for business. Dead customers don't pay."
Raven lowered her head, defeated.
"Then... there is no hope. It's only a matter of time."
She stood up, swaying.
"I should go. Before I lose control and hurt someone here. Kara... I'm sorry."
She turned to leave.
"Wait," Urahara said.
Raven stopped.
"I said I cannot take him out," Urahara said, standing up. "I did not say there was no solution."
Raven turned slowly. "What solution? If you can't close the door..."
"That is your mistake, Raven-san," Urahara said, walking toward her. "You have spent your whole life trying to close the door. Trying to build walls. Trying to keep the monster in the basement and pretend he doesn't live there."
Urahara smiled, a sharp smile full of knowledge.
"But monsters hate being ignored. That is why they scream."
He stopped in front of her.
"Do not try to close the door, Raven-san. Open it."
Raven looked at him with horror. "What? Are you crazy? If I open it..."
"Invite him in," Urahara interrupted. "Invite him up to the living room. Sit him on the sofa."
His gray eyes shone.
"But do it on your terms. Not as his victim. But as his landlady. We are going to have a little chat with your father," Urahara said, pulling out his cane. "And we are going to teach him who runs this house."
"A... chat?" Raven repeated, looking at him as if he had just suggested she invite an active nuclear bomb to tea. "With my father. With Trigon the Terrible. The Destroyer of Worlds."
"The very same," Urahara said cheerfully, shaking his cane so the tip, which was usually blunt, glowed with a faint blue light.
"You see, Raven-san, the problem with noisy tenants is that they often feel... misunderstood. They scream because they think no one listens. Or simply because they are jerks. In either case, ignoring them does not work."
He turned to Kara.
"Kara, I need you to stand guard. I am going to perform an invasive diagnosis. I am going in there."
He pointed to Raven's forehead.
"I am going to project my consciousness into her mindscape. While we are 'out,' our bodies will be defenseless. If you see us start foaming at the mouth, or if Raven sprouts extra eyes on her face... well, try not to break anything expensive."
Kara nodded, her face serious. She positioned herself between them and the door, crossing her arms, her eyes scanning the perimeter.
"No one will touch a hair on your heads," she promised. "Not even the rain."
Urahara turned back to Raven.
"Ready?"
Raven swallowed hard. She was terrified. The idea of letting someone into her mind, into that dark and broken place where her father lurked, was her worst nightmare. But she looked into Urahara's gray eyes. And she saw absolute confidence.
"Do it," she whispered.
Urahara extended two fingers. He gently touched Raven's forehead, right over her chakra, the red gem (Ajna) embedded there.
"Relax," he said. "This will feel like a free fall."
And the world broke. The candy shop, the smell of tea, the Kyoto rain... everything vanished in an instant, replaced by a nauseating sense of vertigo. It wasn't darkness that enveloped them. It was fire.
Urahara landed on his feet with a soft click of his sandals. But he didn't land on wood. He landed on volcanic rock, black and hot, cracked by veins of magma glowing with a sickly red.
He looked around. Raven's "Inner World" was not a pleasant place. The sky was a bruised purple color, sunless, lit only by the glow of fires burning on the infinite horizon.
There were ruins floating in the air, fragments of Azarath architecture, broken temples, and decapitated statues defying gravity, slowly orbiting around an invisible center. The air smelled of sulfur, ash, and ancient despair.
"A bit... dramatic for my taste," Urahara commented, adjusting his hat and fanning himself to dissipate the smoke. "It lacks a bit of feng shui. Maybe some plants."
The ground shook. It wasn't a geological earthquake. It was an earthquake of presence. A shadow fell over the landscape, darkening the purple sky. Urahara looked up.
In front of him, rising from a lake of black fire, a figure rose. It was colossal. Hundreds of meters tall. Its skin was red as arterial blood. It had horns curving backward like a crown of bone.
It wore dark gold armor and a white cape that seemed made of woven souls. And it had four eyes. Four yellow eyes, glowing and full of a malice so ancient and pure it made the very air hurt.
Trigon. The Conqueror. The psychic manifestation of the demon looked down, toward the small green and white speck that had dared to invade his domain. His voice resonated in the mind, a thunderclap that rattled Urahara's teeth.
"YOU!"
The word was a shockwave. Nearby rocks exploded.
"INTRUDER! WORM! HOW DARE YOU ENTER MY REALM! THIS MIND IS MINE! THIS SOUL IS MINE!"
Trigon leaned down, his face filling the sky.
"I AM TRIGON! AND YOU WILL BE ASH!"
Any other being, even a hero, would have felt the crushing weight of terror. Would have fled. Would have begged. Urahara Kisuke... smiled. He raised a hand and waved cheerfully, as if seeing an old neighbor across the fence.
"Yo! Trigon-san!" he shouted, his voice amplified by his own Reiatsu to be heard over the roar of the fire. "Long time no see! How is life treating you? Or non-life? Is it still terribly dry heat in your hell dimension? You should install an air conditioner, it is fatal for the complexion."
The colossal demon stopped. His four eyes blinked, confused by the audacity. He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes to focus on the small figure. He sniffed the psychic air.
And then, he recognized it. He recognized the "flavor" of that soul. A flavor that didn't belong to this universe, a flavor of forbidden science and Shinigami blood. A flavor he had noted in the margins of reality, in the whispers of other demons who had been unlucky enough to cross paths with him.
"THE SHOPKEEPER," Trigon rumbled. His voice dropped from a shout to a deep, dangerous growl. "THE EXILE. I HAVE HEARD OF YOU. THE MAN WHO LAUGHS AT THE ABYSS."
"My, my fame precedes me," Urahara said, taking a small bow. "I hope the reviews were good. I try to keep a low profile."
"LEAVE," Trigon ordered. "THIS IS NOT YOUR CONCERN. THE GIRL IS MY GATE. SHE IS MY BLOOD. YOU CANNOT BREAK THE BOND."
"I haven't come to break anything, Trigon-san," Urahara said, walking calmly across the burning rock. "I have just come to... renegotiate the lease."
"INSOLENT!"
A demon's patience is short. Trigon's four eyes glowed with blinding white light.
"DIE!"
Two beams of pure, concentrated, devastating psychic energy shot from his upper eyes. It was an attack designed to obliterate the mind of any intruder, to wipe their consciousness and leave them in a vegetative state. The beam descended on Urahara like the hammer of a god.
Urahara didn't run. He didn't unsheathe Benihime. He simply raised his right hand, palm open to the sky, and murmured a single phrase.
"Bakudō #81: Dankū." (Splitting Void).
A transparent wall of spiritual energy, tall and rectangular, materialized in the air in front of him.
BOOOOOOM!
Trigon's attack smashed against the shield. The explosion was titanic. The rock floor melted around Urahara. The shockwave raised a tsunami of lava in the nearby lake. But when the smoke cleared... Urahara was still there.
Standing on a small pillar of intact rock, surrounded by destruction. His shield hadn't even cracked. Urahara lowered his hand, the invisible wall fading. He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Always so grumpy, Trigon-san," Urahara said, brushing a speck of ash from his shoulder. "Did they never teach you manners in conquering demon school? Not a 'hello', not a 'how is the family?', not a 'thanks for the tea last time'. How rude."
"TEA?" Trigon roared, confused and enraged that his attack had failed. "I DO NOT DRINK TEA! I DRINK THE BLOOD OF WORLDS!"
"And that is why you have that temper," Urahara diagnosed. "Too much iron in the diet. Makes you irritable."
Urahara took a step forward, floating in the air to be a little closer to the giant's face.
"Listen, Trigon-san. I know you want out. I know you want to use Raven-chan as a key to bring your dimension here and turn Earth into your personal sandbox. I understand the impulse. We all want to redecorate now and then."
His smile sharpened.
"But you are being a bad guest. You are making noise. You aren't letting the girl sleep. And frankly... you are starting to annoy me."
"YOU?" Trigon scoffed. "WHAT ARE YOU TO STOP ME? YOU ARE A SPECK OF DUST. A DIMENSIONAL PARASITE. I CAN CRUSH YOU WITH A THOUGHT."
"You tried," Urahara pointed out. "And you failed."
His gray eyes shone.
"I am not here to stop you, Trigon. I am not going to fight you. That would be boring. And Raven has to fight her own battles. I am here to teach her... how to put the leash on you."
Trigon roared with laughter.
"HER? SHE IS WEAK! SHE IS AFRAID! HER FEAR FEEDS ME! AS LONG AS SHE FEARS HER OWN POWER, I AM THE MASTER!"
"Exactly," Urahara said.
He turned, putting his back to the giant demon, a display of supreme contempt. He looked into the darkness of the mindscape, where Raven's consciousness was hiding, curled up and shivering.
"You heard the big guy, Raven-chan," Urahara said, his quiet voice cutting through the roar of hell. "He is right. He drives the car because you are afraid to touch the steering wheel. But I have good news."
Urahara looked over his shoulder at Trigon, who was charging another attack.
"He is just a bully with a lot of volume and little style."
The mental reality began to shake. Urahara began to release his own Reiatsu. It wasn't a shield this time. It was pressure. The purple sky darkened, turning a deep blood red. The lava stopped flowing.
Trigon felt a weight on his shoulders. A conceptual weight. Urahara didn't grow giant. But his presence became... dense.
"Recess is over, Trigon-san," Urahara said. "I am taking your daughter on a field trip. And you... are going to stay quiet for a while."
With a gesture of his hand, Urahara severed the connection. The world of fire faded. Trigon screamed in frustration as he was pushed back into the depths of the subconscious.
"I WILL RETURN! THIS IS NOT OVER, SHOPKEEPER!"
"Close the door on your way out," Urahara said.
And they woke up. Back in the shop, under the gray rain of Kyoto. Raven was on her knees on the floor, gasping, soaked in cold sweat. Kara was beside her, holding her. Urahara was standing, calm, adjusting his hat.
"Did you see...?" Raven gasped, looking at Urahara with wide eyes. "Did you see... what you did? It's... it's impossible. No one talks to him like that. No one blocks his gaze."
"He is just an overprotective father with anger issues," Urahara said, downplaying it as he wiped a small tear of blood that had escaped his eye from the mental exertion.
"The problem, Raven-chan, is not that he is strong."
Urahara crouched in front of her.
"The problem is that you believe his darkness is foreign to you. You believe it is an invasion."
He touched her chest.
"But it is not. It is your heritage. It is your power. As long as you run from your own darkness, he will always have control."
He stood up and walked toward the back room door.
"Come," he said. "Let's go to the basement. It is time you stopped running and started training the dog."
The descent into the bowels of the Urahara Shop was not a trip for the claustrophobic. The ladder seemed to descend toward the center of the Earth, going down past the foundations of Kyoto, past rock and groundwater, into a space that shouldn't physically exist.
Kara went down first, floating. Raven followed, rung by rung, her hands trembling on the cold iron bars. Urahara brought up the rear, humming a cheerful tune that echoed eerily in the dark shaft.
When they finally touched ground, Raven gasped. It wasn't a basement. It was a desert. A vast underground wasteland of gray rock and natural stone columns stretching as far as the eye could see.
The ceiling was a distant granite sky, lit by a diffuse light that had no source. The air was dry, charged with spiritual particles, and the silence was so absolute you could hear your own heartbeat.
"Welcome to the Basement," Urahara said, spreading his arms like a ringmaster presenting his stage. "Originally I built it to train a redheaded teenager with anger issues and a giant sword. But I think it will serve perfectly for a goth girl with daddy issues."
Raven looked at the desolate landscape.
"It's... huge."
"It is necessary," Urahara said, walking toward a clear area between two large rock formations. "Down here, Raven, surface rules do not apply. You can scream. You can explode. You can break things. The place regenerates itself. It is... a sandbox for gods."
He stopped and turned toward her. His expression became serious. The clown mask vanished.
"Let's begin."
"What do I have to do?" Raven asked, hugging herself. "Meditate? Recite the mantra?"
"No," Urahara said sharply. "The mantra is a sedative. And meditation is a wall. You have been building walls all your life, and Trigon is a battering ram. Eventually, the wall will fall."
Urahara unsheathed his cane, revealing Benihime's blade. He stuck it into the rocky ground.
"Today we are not going to build walls. We are going to build a dam."
He looked Raven in the eye.
"I want you to let him go."
Raven took a step back, panic flaring in her eyes.
"What? No. I can't. If I let him go... he will come out. He will take control. He will destroy all this."
"That is what I am here for," Urahara said calmly.
He pointed to Kara, who was watching from a high rock, ready to intervene if necessary, but trusting Kisuke.
"And that is what she is here for. You have a safety net, Raven. You have Supergirl and you have a former Captain of the Gotei 13. If you turn into a monster... we will stop you. I promise."
His voice turned hard, a military order.
"Draw out your power. Not the light. Not the magic of Azarath. Draw out the darkness. The part that smells of sulfur and your father. The part you are afraid to look at."
Raven trembled. Every instinct the monks of Azarath had taught her screamed at her not to do it. Emotion is dangerous. Fear is the door. Control is the key. But control wasn't working.
She looked at Urahara. He wasn't afraid. He looked at her with demanding expectation. She looked at Kara. Kara nodded, giving her silent permission.
Raven closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. And she lowered the walls. She stopped reciting Azarath Metrion Zinthos. She stopped pushing down. And she let the door open.
BOOOOM!
It wasn't an explosion of fire. It was an explosion of shadow. A column of black, dense, liquid energy erupted from the girl's body. Her eyes opened, glowing with an infernal red. Two extra eyes, made of pure energy, opened on her forehead.
Her skin turned red. Her voice became a chorus of a thousand demons.
"FREE!" Trigon's voice screamed through her throat.
The shadow expanded, taking the form of a gigantic, monstrous raven that filled the cavern, its wings blotting out the light, its claws tearing the rock floor. The power was immense. It was pure hatred. It was destruction.
The shadow turned toward Urahara, ready to devour him. Kara tensed, ready to jump. But Urahara didn't move. He didn't even lift his sword. He simply... released the brake. He released his own Reiatsu.
Not all of it. Just a fraction. But it was enough. The air in the cavern became heavy. Unbearably heavy. A crimson dark spiritual pressure, dense as blood and heavy as lead, fell upon the room.
It wasn't an attack. It was oppression. Raven's giant shadow, rising roaring, was hit by Urahara's pressure. The darkness stopped. It compressed. It was pushed down by an invisible force that was orders of magnitude denser, older, and more lethal than a demon's adolescent rage.
Raven, inside the shadow, gasped, feeling her knees buckle under the weight.
"Look at me!" Urahara shouted.
His voice cut through the roar of the spiritual wind. He walked toward her, step by step, pushing the storm of darkness with his own red aura.
"That power is not your master!" Urahara roared. "Trigon thinks you are his gate! But he is wrong!"
Urahara reached her. The shadow tried to bite him, but dissolved upon contact with his Reiatsu.
"You are not the gate, Raven! You are the house!"
He pointed to the darkness pouring from her.
"That power is yours! It is your heritage! Do not let him use you as a battery! You use him! He is your engine! He is your sword! Submit your Inner Demon! Force him to kneel!"
Raven listened to the voice. She felt Urahara's crushing pressure, a force that could kill her if he wanted, but instead was... holding her. Forcing her to focus.
The external pressure forced her to harden her inner core. To not be crushed, she had to push back. But not with fear. With will. She looked at the darkness. She looked at her father's face in the shadow. And she realized Urahara was right.
He was just noise. Just energy. And she was the one with the control.
"Sit!" Raven screamed.
It wasn't a plea. It was an order. She grabbed the darkness with her mind. She didn't push it away. She grabbed it by the neck. She compressed it. The giant demon raven shape screeched as Raven forced it to shrink.
She forced it into a shape. Not a prison. An armor. The darkness swirled, condensed, and solidified around her body. It stopped being a chaotic monster.
It became a cloak. A cloak of black energy, shaped like an elegant and controlled raven, wrapping around her like a second protective skin. Her red eyes faded, turning back to violet, but now they glowed with a cold, dangerous intensity.
The extra eyes on her forehead closed. The wind ceased. Urahara's pressure lifted instantly, as if it had never existed.
Raven stood in the center of the rock crater. She was panting, covered in sweat, trembling from the effort. But the darkness was there. Around her. And it was quiet. Trigon was silent, subjugated by a will that had learned to bite.
Raven looked at her hands. Black energy flowed between her fingers, docile, waiting for her command.
"I did it," she whispered, incredulous. "I... I silenced him."
Urahara sheathed his sword with a click. His face turned kind again, the lazy smile returning to his lips.
"Congratulations," he said. "You have gone from being a haunted victim to being a very strict pet owner."
Raven fell to her knees, exhausted, but for the first time in months, her mind was silent. She felt a peace that didn't come from suppression, but from balance. She started to laugh. A weak, relieved, almost hysterical laugh.
Kara jumped down from the rock and ran to her, helping her up.
"That was amazing!" Kara said. "You were scary! But the good kind!"
"Thank you," Raven said, leaning on Kara. She looked at Urahara. "Thank you, Kisuke."
"Don't thank me yet," Urahara said, pulling out his fan. "The first lesson is free. The next ones will cost you."
"How much?" she asked.
"You will have to help me taste-test the new gum flavors. I need someone with a constitution resistant to demonic toxins."
They climbed the stairs back to the shop. The rain had stopped. The shop was warm and cozy. Kara went to the kitchen and made three cups of hot chocolate, with extra marshmallows.
They sat in the living room. Raven in the armchair, holding the mug, color slowly returning to her cheeks. Urahara approached her.
"Here," he said, offering her a small cardboard card.
Raven took it. It was a loyalty card, handwritten, with drawings of kittens. "URAHARA SPIRITUAL GYM: Valid for 10 scream therapy sessions."
"Come back next week," Urahara said, winking at her. "We will teach your father to sit, give the paw, and play dead. In time, he will be a good watchdog."
Raven looked at the card. She looked at Kara, who smiled at her with chocolate on her lip. She looked at Urahara, the man who had looked the devil in the eye and told him he was boring. A small, rare, and genuine smile appeared on Rachel Roth's face.
"I'll be here," she said.
She had found a new teacher. And for the first time, she wasn't afraid of her own shadow.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Thanks for reading.
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Mike