I suppose I should give you an example. Bear in mind this is just an exert:

** Faces in the dark, twisted and cruel. A sound, low scratching moan, crept like fingers up his spine. Fingers and feet, scurrying, scraping. Too exhausted to move Alex could do nothing but watch as shadowy formless hands felt their way around his feet, clawing up his leg. They pawed at him, pressing, inspecting, searching. Alex wanted to struggle, to move, squirm. He wanted to scream. His mouth was open, chest heaving, throat aching. No sound. The darkness ate it up as it gnawed at his senses. The dull moaning throbbed in his ears; whispered nonsense words speaking of death, pain and despair. Visions in his mind made him wretch. Alex tastes foulness on his lips. Sour and choking. He forced his mouth shut, trying to hold his breath but it pushed its way in through his nostrils and down his throat. This is not the Honey he knew. There was no golden light. No empathic pull. No Hope. This wasn't dying. This was death in all its grim finality. The rotted, decaying Honey of death. The call for life remained, but not for companionship. Not for closeness. The feeling was selfish, primal. Hunger. The darkness weaved all around him. All over him. In him. In desperation he thought, he prayed. The words of the book, glowing dimly as they tried to fend of the darkness, spoke to him. A voice broke through. It was quiet, yet strong, affirming. -The Ash. Call The Ash. Ignite the flame. Do it now- In the silence, Alex called out, every muscle in his body searing with pain as he fought for air. 'Help me.' The words were barely a whisper, straining to escape his lips 'Help me. God damn it help me please!' Weight pinned him down, hands clawed at his face and stretch open his mouth. Fingers reached in picking at his tongue and teeth. His eyes were forced open wide. Dark faces, barely visible against the pitch black behind them, bore down on him. Empty eyes and gaping jaws looked through him, beyond his skin, breathing him in, drinking in his life. I'm going to die. Eaten alive by- whatever these things are His thoughts were stupid, pathetic. Like him. Tears ran down his cheeks as he lay helpless, subject to the whims of his captors. Light erupted. Heat. Intense heat like the Sun. He felt as if his chest exploded as the light ripped from him. Faces, broken and hollow, shrieked as they scattered. The pain lasted only a moment. Pulled, as if by puppets strings, Alex got to his feet. The light in his chest was a beacon illuminating the rocks and grass around him. It surged in waves and strands of light that reached out around him, turning night to day. His chest rocked with the force of it and yet he felt something else, something great. Power bursting from the source in his chest. From his heart. Gingerly he dabbed at it with his fingers. Nothing. His hand passed straight through. **

Shadow cannibals and a man made of sunlight...a bit much?