The darkness consumed her in moments. Panic rose in her throat when she heard the key turn in the lock, but she quashed it. Block by block, like Sylah said. Take each piece and build a castle, a fortress, to lord over. The bricks fell into place, then the walls. She added furniture and filled the bathroom with scented oils. Finally, she imagined hundreds of plates of fried yams. Just for her and Sylah.
