She was soul-sick. The ache consumed her beyond all reason, and no amount of self-talk and psycho-babble could move the needle back toward normal. The pain had become palpable to the point that she traveled the world with her head down, her shoulders slumped, her gait labored. Her bervasive malaise cast her very existence in shades of charcoal, ash, and dreary destruction. There was no light at the end of the tunnel; instead, she'd wandered headlong into an endless cave and had lost not only her ability, but also her desire to find her way back out again.