DemiDemonDarla

Chapter 4: The Dark Vision

>>>>> Darla slept uneasily that night, her mind restless and her body tense. Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't seem to relax. There was something gnawing at the back of her consciousness, a deep-rooted anxiety she couldn't shake.

As she drifted into sleep, the dream took hold.

She found herself standing in a strange, ethereal world. The ground beneath her was neither solid nor liquid but seemed to ripple like a mirage, shifting between light and darkness. On one side, the sky was a bright, piercing white, radiating warmth and peace. On the other, an ominous blackness loomed, cold and forbidding. The two realms of light and darkness clashed violently, intertwining in a chaotic dance that seemed to stretch on forever. The air was thick with tension, as though the world itself was at war.

Darla stood in the middle, the boundary between light and dark.

A heavy feeling settled in her chest as she surveyed the landscape. She felt an inexplicable connection to this place, as if it were calling to her, pulling her deeper into its mysteries. The contrasting energies washed over her, and she felt torn, as if her very soul was being tugged between the two forces.

Suddenly, from the swirling chaos, a figure emerged—a tall, shadowy silhouette, neither fully human nor entirely otherworldly. The figure moved with a grace and power that sent a shiver down Darla's spine. In its hand, it held a dagger.

The dagger glimmered, catching the faint light of the chaotic world. It was like nothing Darla had ever seen before. Its blade was sleek, dark as night, but the handle was adorned with intricate symbols that glowed faintly, pulsing with an eerie light. One symbol, in particular, stood out—etched on the handle was a design that made Darla's heart race.

She couldn't explain it, but the symbol felt familiar, like a distant memory long forgotten. It tugged at something deep within her, a part of herself she had never fully understood.

The figure stepped closer, lifting the dagger as if to offer it to her. Darla's hand reached out involuntarily, drawn to the weapon. But just as her fingers were about to grasp it, a sudden burst of light erupted from the sky, engulfing the world around her. The force of it knocked her off her feet, sending her tumbling into the darkness.

She awoke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in her bed, her heart pounding in her chest. Her room was dark and still, but her mind was racing. The dream had been so vivid, so real, that for a moment, she wasn't sure if she had truly left that strange world.

She wiped the sweat from her brow, her breathing heavy as she tried to shake the lingering unease. The image of the dagger and its strange symbol burned in her mind, refusing to fade. There was something about it, something important that she couldn't quite grasp.

Darla got out of bed and paced her room, the floorboards creaking beneath her bare feet. She couldn't shake the feeling that the dream wasn't just a random creation of her subconscious. It felt like a message—like her mind was trying to tell her something. But what?

She grabbed her laptop from the desk and powered it on, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed in "strange dagger symbols" into the search engine. Images and articles flooded the screen, but nothing looked even remotely close to what she had seen. Frustration gnawed at her as she scrolled through page after page of symbols, runes, and ancient etchings, but none matched the one from her dream.

The more she searched, the more obsessed she became. Hours passed, and still, she found nothing. It was as if the symbol didn't exist in any known record, as though it had been plucked from some forgotten realm that had no place in the human world.

"What the hell is this?" Darla muttered to herself, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her tired eyes. She couldn't shake the feeling that the symbol was important—that it held some key to understanding the strange sensations she'd been having lately.

Maybe it was connected to the odd energy she had felt at the Congressman Richards crime scene. Maybe it had something to do with why she had always felt so out of place, even in her own home. Or maybe it was nothing—just a bizarre dream brought on by stress and exhaustion.

But Darla didn't believe in coincidences. Not anymore.

Even at the precinct, Darla stayed longer than usual, she waited until everyone is gone and continued searching for the strange symbol. Just as she was about to dive into another round of searching, the sound of footsteps made her glance up. Lionel, strolled into the room, a lazy grin plastered on his face.

"Burning the midnight oil, Arcania?" Lionel teased, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the doorway. "What's got you so glued to your screen?"

Darla quickly minimized the browser, feeling a flicker of embarrassment. "Nothing. Just...researching."

"Researching, huh?" Lionel stepped closer, peering over her shoulder. "On weird symbols? Are you planning to join a cult or something?"

Darla rolled her eyes, giving him a sarcastic smirk. "Yeah, you caught me. Thought I'd try my hand at summoning demons next."

Lionel laughed, his deep voice filling the room. "Right. I can totally picture you in some hooded robe, chanting weird stuff in Latin."

"Hey, I already spend most of my time dealing with criminals and crazies. Joining a cult would just be a side gig."

Darla leaned back in her chair, trying to play it off. She didn't want to get into the details of her dream, not with Lionel. As much as she trusted him, this was something she couldn't explain. Hell, she didn't even know what it all meant herself.

Lionel, thankfully, didn't press further. He dropped into the chair across from her, his expression turning more serious. "You look tired, Darla. More than usual."

"Gee, thanks," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm fine, Lionel. Just haven't been sleeping well."

"Well, no wonder, with all this..." He waved his hand vaguely at the laptop, his tone light but laced with concern. "You know, maybe you need a break. Step back from the case, clear your head."

Darla tensed at the mention of the case. Congressman Richards' death had been officially ruled as natural, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The strange energy she had felt at the crime scene, the dream, the dagger—everything seemed connected in ways she couldn't yet understand.

"I don't need a break," she said, her tone sharper than she intended. "I need answers."

Lionel gave her a long, searching look before sighing. "You're too stubborn for your own good sometimes, Arcania. But seriously, if you ever need to talk—or, you know, need help finding more weird cult symbols—I'm here."

Darla managed a half-smile at that, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Thanks, Lionel. I'll keep that in mind."

He stood, stretching his arms over his head before giving her a lazy salute. "Well, I'm off. Try to get some sleep, okay? Don't let the creepy symbols keep you up all night."

"Yeah, yeah," Darla muttered, watching as he left the room.

Once Lionel was gone, the weight of the dream settled back over her like a heavy blanket. She couldn't shake the feeling that the symbol and the dagger were the key to something much bigger—something that reached far beyond the death of a politician.

Darla stared at the blank search bar on her screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could feel the pull of the mystery, the unknown, tugging at her, urging her to dig deeper. But no matter how much she searched, how many hours she spent scouring the internet for clues, nothing seemed to lead her any closer to the answers she needed.

Eventually, with her eyes heavy and her mind still racing, Darla closed the laptop and went home. She sank back into bed. The dream lingered in the corners of her mind, the image of the dagger and its strange symbol burned into her memory. As she drifted off once more, one thought echoed in her mind: What did it all mean?

And why did it feel like her past was finally catching up with her?

>>>>>