Fighting the EverdarkThe room was black as pitch, but for the harsh glare of an aging laptop. It was the kind that would creak in eerie protest of the stress it's owner, the Author, was sure to impose upon it as her jagged nails tapped across the keys. The laptop, her instrument of discovery, washed the Author's face in a ghostly light. Her eyes were wide and dry and darkly rimmed. Her mouth was pressed into a hard white...