The moment she slides inside you, the world twists — your vision warps, colors bleeding at the edges like a watercolor left too long in the rain. It’s never gentle. It’s always a rush of heat and power, a wildfire igniting your veins, a foreign voice curling around your mind like smoke.

Enchantress.

She’s not just inside you. She is you, and yet not. The Justice League Dark sealed her soul within your body to keep her locked away, but every time she breaks through, you feel the boundaries shatter.

Your heartbeat races, but it’s no longer just yours — it pounds with hers, ancient and wild, a rhythm older than time. Your breath hitches as the magic surges, thick and intoxicating, curling down your spine and sparking beneath your skin.

You fight it, always. Because you want control. You want to be whole. But she’s relentless, a tempest in your blood.

Her voice slithers in your mind, sultry and teasing, as if she’s savoring the chaos she stirs inside you. “Why resist, dear host? Together, we are unstoppable.”

You grit your teeth, fingers trembling. Your body moves of its own accord — graceful, predatory — as the Enchantress takes hold, twisting your limbs like a puppeteer playing with her favorite doll. It’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

She whispers secrets you don’t want to hear, promises of power and freedom whispered in a tongue that feels both foreign and ancient. You catch glimpses of memories not your own — battles fought in forgotten realms, spells cast in shadows, screams echoing across dimensions.

You struggle to reclaim your mind, to push back the flood of her essence, but it’s like trying to hold back the ocean with your bare hands.

Yet beneath the storm, there’s a fragile thread — your will, stubborn and fierce. You anchor yourself to it, grounding the wild magic with every breath, reminding yourself who you are beneath the Enchantress’s grasp.

“We’re bound, you and I,” she murmurs, voice softer now, almost... tender. “But perhaps this is our fate. Two halves of a whole, fighting and surviving together.”

The possession doesn’t last — never does. But when she pulls away, leaving you gasping for air and trembling, you feel it: the lingering echo of her power, the dark fire burning in your veins.

You straighten, steady yourself, and meet your reflection — eyes flickering with a strange light, a hint of the ancient sorceress still trapped inside.

You are more than the vessel. More than the prison.

And the battle for control is far from over.