A/N: Yes, I realize that the last chapter was a tad strange. Bear with me.

Blood binds all. They will look at you, and see not who you are, but what you are.-- Anonymous

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Sylie had never been that well-off, and now, in her 159th year of existence, she was in trouble yet again.

She was tall, had alabaster skin, and hair so dark it consumed light. She couldn't be called beautiful, though. She looked too inhuman to be beautiful, especially her eyes, which were like red mirrors. They took the phrase "the eyes are the window to the soul" to a whole new level.

"Sylienn Tarada," droned the magistrate.

Sylie gritted her teeth in annoyance. Humans never got her name right. It wasn't Silly-en, it was SIGH-lee-enn! Curse her mother for having named her that.

As she trudged over to where the magistrate sat, she was careful not to lift her gaze. Not only would it make it seem as though she was remorseful, but it would mean that the magistrate wouldn't see her eyes.

"You have been charged with assaulting a merchant and a bartender, along with his guard," the magistrate informed her sternly.

"I know why I'm here," Sylie told him boredly, studying her nails. They were as crimson as her eyes and quite long, but neither had been left to her choice. "I just wanted to say that those three had it coming. The merchant was cheating me, the bartender was supporting him, and the guard had been eyeing my backside as soon as I stepped into that tavern."

"Yes, but to beat them to an inch within death?"

"As I said, they had it coming," she reinforced, her voice shadowed with more than a hint of annoyance.

"Look at me."

She stubbornly refused, and instead crossed her arms.

"Miss Tarada, I can see you are quite young, and because of this, petulant. If you repent, I'll let you go this time."

Young? Sylie restrained the urge to laugh. She was more than three times this fool's age, and a hundred times more remorseless.

"Sylienn Tarada, you will look at me when you talk," the magistrate commanded.

Sylie caught his gaze and held it, her scarlet-mirror eyes flashing. The magistrate's face drained of color and she could practically smell his fear; almost touch his loathing. She was used to that. It was the pity that lurked underneath it all that really bothered her. Pity her! Bah! They were the ones to be pitied, not her!

"I will do as I please," she spat before quitting the building.

She stepped out into the sun. It was late summer, and Tanhaa Lake glittered in the setting sun. The townspeople of Ahnta ignored her, save for the occasional scholar who recognized her hair and skin as characteristics of her mother's race, and she preferred it this way. She would have liked for even those rare scholars to pass her by. Recognition wasn't worth it, she thought as she slipped out of the square and to the edge of town, where there was a small dock. People rarely came to this dock, for it was very small and rather secluded--the forest that had originally surrounded Tanhaa Lake still lingered at the fringes, and it was this small woodland that mostly hid the tiny dock.

She nimbly climbed up a tree and sat on its highest branch. The sky was stained with a range of pink, red, yellow and orange, with tints of purple warning the world of the approaching night. As she watched the sun set and how the colors bled together to form the hues of looming twilight, she was yet again reminded of her heritage. The result of mixed blood was her, and unlike the heavens she wasn't pretty.

Lynae and demon. She did not know how long she would live, or how easily she could be killed, but she doubted either was going to happen anytime soon. She was not weak physically like her mother's race the Lynae, but she was just as gifted in magic--even more, for her Demonic side not only lent her physical strenghth, but a link to Oblivion that made Sigil magic effortless.

She supposed she should be grateful that she wasn't horribly deformed, but how could she not be bitter, when the whole world felt nothing but fear, disgust and unneccessary sympathy when they saw her crimson reflective eyes?

Sylie jumped off the branch and landed safely on the ground fifteen feet below, heart full of bitterness and anger.

A/N: Please review!