The Darkness responded with the voice of a thousand infants screaming in pain. “You dare to provoke Me?”
Brian’s voice grew a little louder. “I won’t do it.”
The Darkness hissed. Brian could feel its anger pressing on him. He tensed. “I won’t ever do it,” he said. “I will not roll over for you. Not ever.”
The Darkness surged upon him, a wave of evil that washed over him and receded. Yet it did not extinguish the tiny light.
“You almost had me,” Brian said. “If it hadn’t been for Dave.”
“You pathetic fool!” the Darkness said.
The little star grew brighter, a pale, radiant blue. “I saw all the people you’ve killed,” Brian said. “I know what you’ve done.” With each word he spoke, Brian felt himself grow a little stronger. The star became a bit brighter.
“Little thing!”
“No more,” Brian said.
The Darkness roared.
“You’re not all powerful,” Brian said. “And you know it. I know it.” Within him, Brian both saw and felt other lights bursting to life like fireflies, like a chorus of candles.
“You want the world?” Brian said. “You have to get through me.”
“DIE!” The Darkness struck from everywhere and nowhere, from without Brian and within him. He reeled, crying out. Not from pain, but from some deeper sensation he could not describe. The stars flickered but did not go out. They responded by blazing ever more brilliant.
“Is that all you got?” Brian said, the sensation of heat returning. He waited, drawing on that energy, the astral equivalent of taking a deep breath. And then he struck back.