That being, one could never really describe it's… It's joy in freedom. If you just looked it straight in the eye, you could see how fiery was the spirit within. Stubborn and defiant, but never evil.

A spirit of the wind, flowing free and unrestrained.

A dark hand grabs for it, too fast for even the sharpest eye to follow. It latches on hard, with strength easily five times that of the being.

Its eyes widen, fear becoming desperation as it struggles wildly for all that it's worth, knowing that it could never live trapped where there is nothing. It was a lost cause, but with that realization, it redoubled its efforts, slowly being torn apart by the strength of the darkness and its own struggling. Its defiant eyes finally being lost.

And there is darkness.