A/N: This is a story that has been thought of, scrapped, put into action, and scrapped again. This time, however, I decided to start from scratch and use my same idea but with lots of plot changes and character redesigns, which in turn made a better story in my head.

Since the manga is not over, this fic can be considered an arc based from the manga directly (I will not be going off the anime, so be warned that there will be some spoilers)

So without further ado, here's the first chapter.

Chapter 1- Who and Why

It was night. At least, she thought it was night. The curtains were drawn. So any possible light was absorbed. At least she thought the curtains were drawn, but she was blindfolded. She couldn't really tell. She had no sense of time or space at that moment, laying on the cold tiles of a floor she did not know. She felt groggy and sore, and she wondered why that was so. It took a few moments to register her surroundings, pulling herself back to reality. She started recovering her senses, one by one. Her sense of smell came first, which hit her with a wave of a strange scent. Blood and sweat, she thought. But at the same time, she wondered how she could tell. Her hearing came next, though there was not much to hear except a faint dripping noise coming from nearby from an eerie silence. Fear. She felt it now, as she recovered her sense of touch. Funny how she could recall how cold the ground was, but could not fully distinguish it. But the soreness became more intense when she moved her body, trying to get up. Her body would not properly respond. So then, her ears picked up a distinct sound against the silence; she sound of shallow footsteps. Using whatever strength she thought she had, she moved her arms to remove the obstruction of her sight. It was clumsy and the blindfold became tangled in her hair, probably moist from the sweat she smelled earlier. Her hair was wet? She furiously blinked and squinted as her sight was the last to return. Then she realized that it there was light. She wondered why. The first thing she saw was a ceiling; I was high and rounded, as if she were inside a dome. A dome? She wasn't so sure. She took in her new senses in like a sponge, but her thoughts were groggy and dismantled. She wondered where she was, and was suddenly overtaken by panic. This fired up her flight instinct, and in one rash movement lifted her body into a sitting position. The aches were everywhere; her head, her limbs, her chest, between her legs...

But then she felt it, a stinging sensation that made her skin feel like it was on fire. Instinctively she slapped a hand on the source of the pain. Her neck. The left. The center. The left side of her neck. The center left side of her neck. Her thoughts began to race as her cognitive sense struck. Where am I? Who am I? What's happening?

She then realizes she is staring at the ground. The ground is white. But wait, she thinks. There is also another color. The name escaped her. She remembered apples, theatres, leaves in fall. Red, she thinks. Its red. Its spread across the ground like spilled paint. But it wasn't paint. She remembered the smells. Rust, salt. Almost metallic. Blood, she realized. The ground has blood. Even then, she wondered why that was.

She hears the dripping. She feels the fear once more. She hears the footsteps, sounding closer. Approaching, she realizes. Panic rising, she slowly lifts her head. She gasps. The curtains were drawn, as she had thought. Then she sees it. A figure, gracefully walking across the tile floor. She sees them. A pair of bare feet, lithe and tanned. Seemingly human. Seemingly. The nails were black. Black? She thought. She wondered why it was so odd. The figure came to a stop. She had not looked around her, but she didn't need to. The new sight had her full attention. Ankles, she saw. Wrapped in something that looked soft. She thought of blankets, the feel of a breeze, a cat. Fur, she realized. Why fur? She thought, but her eyes wandered upwards. The figure had legs. Again, seemingly human. The same tone as the feet. But with nets on them. Nets? She thought. She looked up, realizing what the figure was. Or, what it might be.

A woman. It was now obvious to her, seeing her hips that narrowed to an hourglass shaped. She eyed her chest suspiciously, and felt a chill. She wondered why. The figure, she thought, lacked something. Fabric, covers...clothes. The woman lacked clothes, she thought. She looked down on herself, to confirm. White gown that matched the floor. She looked up to the woman. She was wrong. She had clothes, but didn't have them. She blinked a few times, the paradox confusing her. Then she looked again. She was covered, partly. But most of her body was exposed. Then she made out the details. She was adorned, she thought. Heavily adorned with something that looked like...bones. Claws and teeth. Her thoughts were becoming clearer now. Her eyes found the shoulders. Across them was something similar to the ankles. More fur. Then she saw the fur trailing downward, making her eyes wander again. Shirt? No, she thought. A cape. A fur cape that covered the back she could not see. The figure had arms. Matching tones, also with nets. Beads, too. Like the feet, the nails were black; and long. The left hand, it had a strange mark. The pain in her neck began to pulse. She swallowed nervously. She looked back up to the highest point of the figure. The face.

She froze. She knew she froze, because body stopped trembling. Trembling? She had not noticed. The face was covered in a down of gray; a shadow veiled by...hair. Hair was everywhere, falling in spirals. She could still see the face. But she could not describe it. Her mind would not process. She was frozen, after all. But her eyes did know what they saw. A grin, gently curled. A pair of amber eyes, as if they were glowing, long lashes revealing its depths. Staring straight down. She thought her heart was going to burst out from her chest. More fire in her neck.

The figure had not made a sound. Only stared. An air of danger encased them, and something darker. Then the figure's mouth open. To speak? To breathe? She wasn't sure, but she was sure of the long sharp canines that glistened lightly despite the shadows.

"Do you know who I am?" asked the figure in a voice like flowing honey.

Another shudder ran through her spine, and she was trembling again. She had not realized she had held her breath upon the gaze of the figure, and began to gently gasp for air.

The figure crouched down quietly, quietly making eye contact. With such close proximity, the face of the figure was more defined.

Beauty, she thought. A dangerous beauty.

Slowly, the figure raised her left arm to carefully touch the neck of the child in front of her. The child leaned into the figure's touch, sitting on her knees despite her aches and instincts screaming mercy at her.

The figure cupped the back of the child's neck, feeling the fingernails brush against the source of fiery pain.

The figure closed her eyes, and once opened, they became a glowing crimson with narrow pupils. Like a predatory animal.

"Do you know who YOU are?", asked the figure.

Silence. Then, an eruption of massive pain from the child's neck. All at once, the child knew everything. She knew who she was. She knew where she was. She knew what they'd done to her. She knew what she'd done to them. She knew what was stolen from her, and she remembered the pain. She saw the bodies around her, still dripping like a never ending roof leak, forming little lakes around her feet. Their faces in eternal despair, flesh shredded with sharp tools. She noticed the figure, who had once more stood and stepped back, was also covered in blood. It stained her skin, the bones and the teeth. Her lips. The figure licked her lips. The child was sure she did not imagine that gesture. The floodgates of her memories were poured out, violently, as if they were trying to purge a disease.

The child screamed, shook like a leaf, looked all around in terror. The child was in a nightmare. A nightmare that had a name; reality. The child had been swallowed and regurgitated until she was reborn into a new life that smelled of rust and wild pines.

The figure only watched the child as she adjusted to the current events. She watched her squirm, yell and sob all at once. She hugged herself and flail; she dug her nails into her skin, drawing red scratches on her arms and legs. The figure blinked when she saw the child scrunch up her legs.

Eventually the screams died down to whimpers comparable to a lost pup. Her arms went limp and her legs went still. Her labored breathing slowed into slow, feathery breaths. Eventually, the child stopped shaking; and still the figure stood, silently witnessing, not interfering. Eyes still glowing, no longer smiling. Perhaps even rising in anger.

The figure did not help the child. There was no need, for the child had calmed on her own; and slowly, but surely, the child began to stand. Clumsily first, as if she had been shaken by an earthquake. Secondly in an awkward pose, ignoring her body's strain. Eventually, and thirdly, she was able to lift her head.

With tired eyes and sorrowful faith, she looked at the figure. The one she had brought. The one who created and end; and at the same time, made a new beginning. The child knew this now; she knew who she was, and she knew who the woman that appeared before her was. But most of all, she knew now her purpose. The child looked at the woman in the eye; a gesture that did not need words at that moment. A sign of mutual understanding. With that cue, the woman approached. As if on instinct the child extended her arm, reaching out to her new hope.

The woman took the child's hand carefully, as if the small being in front of her was made of glass. Then, the pain of her neck disappeared. Then, the child found her voice. In a voice that was but a whisper.

"You are my light"

Upon hearing these words, the woman closed her eyes. She bowed her head and bent on one knee, never letting go of the child's hand. The adornments swiftly chimed to her movements; and with humble breath, she responded.

"As you wish, my Lady"

Another silence followed; it was a silence no longer ruled by fear. This silences carried alliance, energy. A new resolve.

Somewhere, a morning bird began to sing.

A/N: There you have it folks. A whole different beginning to this revamped story. The writing was strange and progressively became more coherent; it was because I needed to portray the psychology and self identification of someone who had woken up to something horrifying. I hope I didn't do a bad job with that, I found this personal method to be interesting for me to explore. The ramblings of words to identify other specific words- i.e. Trying to identify "clothes" and the color "red"- was a bit of a reference to the Unwind Dystology (a series of books that are superb reads) where the author uses a similar thought/speaking process for one of the characters. I will be posting around three chapters including this one; and I intend to post in threes when the time comes to do updates. Reviews are the sole sustenance of my motivation, and even if its just to say hello or write praise, I will welcome every single one with open arms.