Mistress of the Dark

The name is Marie.
The one my parents whispered with pride, the one I answered to as a child, and the one that once held dreams, laughter, and sunlit memories.

I miss it.
Not just the name-but the identity stitched into it.
The girl everyone thought they knew.
The girl I once thought I was.

But that name-Marie-died.
Buried under whispers, rumors... and fire.
Now, they call me Darkass.

They say if darkness had a mistress, she'd wear my face.

Thrilling.
Stupid.
And yet... true.

Because what they forget-what they refuse to understand-is that the light defines the dark, and darkness defines the light.
They're mirrors. Rivals. Lovers doomed to be apart.

The sky? It only shines because of the sun's borrowed grace.
But the night? It needs no source. It is.

And I am no longer Marie.
I am the night-pure, original, untouched.
I no longer reflect.
I exist.

They called me strange when I lived in a hut of leaves and whispers.
They called me a thief when I stole to survive.
They called me a killer... when I fought back.

And maybe-just maybe-I am all of those things.
But here's the truth:

They fear me.
They hate the name they gave me.
And I love it.

And I won't stop, till they call me the night itself..

________

Grieved by false Accusations laid on her as a young girl, Marie becomes something dangerous an otherworldly, her presence a threat alone. But when a young man hands her a strange doll, promising her that which she seeks, everything changes.

The doll becomes a thrilling man, who sees through, who becomes something far from what she could ever imagine