Fear that fear already won.

A cacophony of shadows, and all I feel is fear. 

Fear that the shadows will consume her, that those demented demons will suck away her soul until nothing remains. Fear that fear has gotten the best of her, that truly there is no hope left because it has turned to fear. Fear that the feelings of powerlessness and worthlessness will continue brewing that evil cauldron whilst all I can manage is tell her not to drink. Fear that fear will permanently replace joy, sadness, anger, disgust, and all other fulcrums comprising her sentimental spectrum. Fear that I could have prevented this cacophony of shadows from arising in the first place. Fear that fear is just too powerful. Fear that rotten wood cannot be carved and the aspect of her mind that regulates feeling rots away at far too fast a rate. Fear that the shadows have in fact already consumed her, and are now using her to consume me as well - and all the ones I love. Fear that the shadows will consume every single one of us and no human will survive this zombie apocalypse. Fear that victory is not imminent or likely.

But then I repel the shadows with a spell of joy, and only joy remains.