Sheet lightning flashed and wind howled. Icy rain battered his body as the northern winds cut through his skin and bones. Filthy rags clung to his small lithe body and dirt caked his once beautiful face. His eyes were dead. The childishness from his sapphire depths had been leeched from him. He was only a shell of the boy he once was. A large hand griped his bony wrist and he was dragged from the rusty cage, he had sheltered in for a month. Small bare feet clumsily stumbled as he was dragged through ankle deep mud. The man grabbed his silver blue locks and threw him into the back of cart. The child only winced. A fleece blanket was thrown over his head. He knew it wasn't for his warmth or to help shelter him from the weather. It was so he wouldn't be caught by the yard. At the crack of a whip, the mare brayed and darted forward. Ciel was thrown around the back of the cart like a rag doll. He threw his skinny arms around a small barrel of hay for support. He buried his porcelain face into it and sobbed silently. He had overheard talk between two maids at the last house he was at. They were saying a few lambs where needed for bleeding at one of Sir Kelvin's party. And that he was going to be the first to go. Ciel was far from stupid he knew what that meant. He was to be killed. The broken doll cried silently into the hay for hours until he drifted off into a cold sorrowful sleep, from which he wished he would never wake from.

Thunderous hooves came to a halt and Ciel was jolted awake. He rubbed his eyes then in a flustered panic threw the fleece from his body. His feet where a long way away from the ground. But he knew the coach man would not lift him down. He jumped the height, a painful shudder coursed through his frame as his feet connected with the stone ground. But he walked on. He was taken around to the back of a huge mansion. He was stripped out of his rags and was doused with ice cold water. A pale man with watery eyes began to scrub him from head to toe with a rough bristled brush. He cleaned around his crotch more than they should have. Had it only been a few weeks ago Ciel would have thrashed and struggled to get away from the man, but now he paid no attention to the pervert. Displeased with the reaction – or lack of it-the man stood up and threw a flimsy cotton shirt at him. Ciel struggled to put it on over his wet body. But somehow he managed. The pervert who "bathed" him took him by the collar and dragged him inside the house. He passed through a dirty kitchen into carpets decorated with plush red carpet, that was warm under his abused feet. He was pushed into a room that had only a stone stair case.

The man pushed a bony finger into his back to make him walk. Ciel looked towards the stairs and let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. Like a zombie he stumbled down the staircase. Only to be met with a long stone corridor. The small boy walked along it, counting his steps. He had only been walking for about a minute when he reached a large oak door. The pasty man knocked on the door. It swung open to revel a woman. She had a long black cloak covering her eyes but the sick grin was still visible. Ciel looked at his feet, he didn't want to look at the witch that stood before him. She reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He felt tears sting his eyes, but he held them back.

"Let me see your face." She hissed as she pulled his head back. Ciel shut his eyes trying his best to avoid her. "Open your eyes, child!" Ciel complied. The woman gasped. "Beautiful like sapphire" she uttered to herself. "Our master will be pleased!" She pulled Ciel by the hair into a dark room that smelled of blood and rotting meat. The witch dropped to her knees in front of him and clamped something cold and heavy around his ankle. She pushed him back and he staggered into a large cage. "Sit." She commanded. Ciel slid down the barred wall, obeying her. She sighed. "You broke quickly." The boy looked up. "You caved in on yourself I can see it." He blinked. "Your eyes are dead." She turned began to lock the cage. "It's for the best if you give up on the will to live. You won't be here for much longer." The grin slid back onto her face and she laughed as she made a slow retreat from the room. The silver haired boy pulled his knees up to his chin and rested his head on them. He sat like that for some hours. Just thinking. Thinking about what the cloaked woman said. Thinking about his life, and how he got into this. As he spent his time in that cage, the first sparks of a fire lit in his chest. The more he thought, the hotter they got. For the first time in weeks; things began to stir within him. Anger, hate and malice. All self pity had been banished. Ciel had a fire burning in his chest. He had a plan brewing in him mind. Best of all he had a powerful spark in his cerulean blue eyes. He would not give up. He would pull through this. He wouldn't let his mother or his father down. He refused to let his name be sullied further by greed. The Phantomhive heir sat alone in a dark room in a cage. Not like the broken doll he was earlier. Like a tiger In captivity waiting to pounce on the bastards who humiliated him and his family. He swore over his own title he would lash out and have his revenge.