As she laid in the dark, curled up on the disheveled bed like an aborted babe, a realization dawned on her. Her body cried out in pain as she reached a hand to the open wound on her neck. It came back slick with blood. For a moment she admired the substance, her life substance; it was darker than any other species' blood, and was so thin it was nearly water – she needed to feed.

Three years. That's how long she'd been at the mercy of Sadakuno Frey. The neck wound which bled so profusely now had been originally made that first night he had come to her room. She had only been thirteen, and so naïve; she had fancied herself in love with him!

She closed her eyes and saw flashes – his body forcing hers against the door, the tearing of fabric, the excruciating pain, his teeth tearing away the skin of her neck, marking her as his, the humiliation from such a violation had been more than her mind could handle. The mark was nearly as big as a tea saucer, corded and disfigured, and every time she saw it the memories of that night threatened to overwhelm her.

When she opened her eyes they were glowing with hatred, but unlike any other time before, she showed determination now.

Clenching her teeth until she thought they would crack, she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. She inched and crawled her way to the floor, and immediately wished she'd stayed on the bed. The non-sanded wood planks were rough and cold, but she believed it would work better down here.

She dug deep into her mind for her young memories. She was even when all of Thomas's careful training paid off: she successfully summoned her first demon. Granted, it had been a lesser shade from the surface of Inferno, and she hadn't done it since, but she knew she could.

She wiped her hand along her neck, hissing as her skin came in contact with the laceration, and then smeared the collected blood across the floor. She let the splinters dig into her palm – she barely felt them now. Turning her wrist to face her, she sunk her fangs into the white skin. Blood flowed freely into her mouth and she could taste the coppery-sweet tang. She turned her wrist and clenched her fingers, forcing the blood to drip and trickle onto the floor.

Then she began to whiper: "Beschwören um mir einen schaduw der meine zu helfen kann." (Summon to me a shade that can assist my need.)The environment changed instantaneously. The air became thick and heavy with the smell of musk, brimstone, and charred flesh. "Demon!" she cried, "Fordere ich Sie!" (I summon you!) and energy exploded from the blood stained floor. Everything became dark, and then she watched as a shiny, slick oil grew outward like a wave from her blood offering. It jumped, curled, and writhed underneath her like the surface of the sun – if it were black.