

The Black HorseDemon stepped through the black door apprehensively. Her dark brown hair cascading down her face to fall beneath her ribs, she turned her head from side to side to see if she was alone. She was. She was very alone. She found herself in a very large, dim lit room. It was too large for her to see the other two walls, but there was a fireplace with an old Victorian loveseat waiting for her in the closest corner. She walked over and lounged upon it with her legs curled underneath her. It was quiet, unpleasant to her ears. She sang sad songs that belonged to a time older than she. She spat at the fire to listen to it hiss and grinned when it did.The Black Horse