[ If she moves, she covers her ears; the ticking and the voice too loud, the searing burn on her arm painful. If she sees, everything is stained red by her own destiny. ]

[ The voice is strong, and powerful, and wraps around her in the darkness. It is like fire and smoke and the cold press of glass pushing down. She wonders if this is the voice of the Dragon whose mark is, even in this not-realm, trying to burn down through her marrow. ]

Then, why am I here? I am the claw, who stands firm. I protect. I can't not protect. I am marked. There is no choice for me.

[ No choice in any path; her oaths were made when she was only three years old, chaining her heart and her mind to the world of spirits. She had neglected them, and their world had nearly been destroyed. Before she had come here, it was protect both worlds, or watch both be consumed by decay, by destruction and death for all things. ]

[ But in this place, this world, there were no spirits to defend, no dark gods to vanquish. What, then, was the use of being a Signer in a place like this? What use was there doing any good here? Nothing lasted... Her shields could protect no one, and her sight only caused her pain. She only seemed to get in the way, when no one else would do the defending properly. Everyone else was more powerful than she, stronger and braver and being heroes by choice. What could she do in the face of that? ]

This isn't my world. Is my mark worthless here? Am I——?