i don't own Teen Titans or Teen Titans Go. This is a introspective fanfiction of Raven's mother, where I'm just elaborating on the story of Raven's birth.

Angela arose from the ground, dusting her black hooded robe off as she pushed herself up, readjusting her hood in order to cover her black hair. Moonlight shone through the church's stained glass windows, reflecting several different colors into the crumbling cathedral. Dust hovered just above the wood pews that filled the church, and floated around the thick pillars lined up beside the benches. The church had no light with the exception of sunlight and candles.

Angela was simply gazing, taking everything in like she did every morning, until a sharp, low voice shrilled, "Angela!"

The seventeen-year-old girl, upon hearing her name, stepped carefully through the congregation hall, moving slowly and as elegantly as she could. She was the youngest person in the Hail Trigon cult in Gotham City, and she wanted to prove that she could be older and more mature than she was. Ever since she had joined the cult she had messed up some part of the group's rituals, from singing haunting songs she didn't know the words to, from eating unleavened bread out of sheer desperation, she'd even messed up pouring red wine into a cup. A simple cup.

At sixteen the girl had run away from one of many foster homes, continuously seeing what she thought were demons in everyone's faces. All Angela saw was black holes instead of her caretakers' faces, which scared her immensely. At the time, Angela had believed that if she devoted herself entirely to whatever being was causing her to see monsters, creatures she never wished to see, she would be freed. But alas, the visions still sometimes appeared right before her eyes, screaming, scratching, hissing. Maybe she'd missed something.

Angela's mother had abandoned her at birth while her father remained a stranger to her; she'd never known a thing about him, not even his name. She'd gone through a series of foster homes, all of which threw her out when they'd heard of Angela's little "visions" for fear she would harm herself or others. At the age of ten, she ended up in a very Christian foster home that told her she would get satisfaction through being a follower of "Jesus," but this promised feeling never came, and when she was fifteen she turned toward Satanism as an alternative.

At last Angela joined the other members in the very back of the abandoned Catholic church. There were around fifty members in the group, all surrounding a tall wooden table featuring a single stone statue of the one they worshipped, Trigon.

This room was simply called "the back room." It was completely dark with the exception of the dripping, flickering wax candles surrounding the sinister statue of the satanic figure of Trigon the Terrible, who was believed to be at Lucifer himself's right hand, born in Hell itself, but now believed to have spawned in Azarath, the alternate dimension in which Angela had learned much about but had never actually been there. Trigon had hundreds of sons, all named after ghastly sins, and had had several hundred brides which he had raped and impregnated in an attempt to birth a daughter who would be his portal to the final dimension he needed to dominate, Earth. This was where Angela lived, in an isolated part of the United States, completely cut off from civilization. However, every maiden Trigon defiled died either in the act, shortly after, killed the infant knowing what it would represent or committed suicide due to the sheer horror of the event. Trigon was several thousand years old, having come into being when the first group of pacifists similar the cult Angela was currently in exorcised the dark passions of their souls from their bodies and cast it into the space beyond Azarath. These great amounts of negative and evil energy floated in space for years until finally coming to form a single being, Trigon.

Since then he had one goal: to make others suffer. He wanted a sense of control. He wanted everything and everyone he could possibly have. He destroyed mercilessly, planet after planet, all those who defied him dying slow, horrid deaths. He had slaughtered the very cult responsible for his birth, which included his own mother. In less than a year after he was created, he had conquered his entire planet. By the time he was thirty, he had conquered several million more dimensions and worlds and still sought out more every second.

But he still had not managed to break into the earthly plane due to an Azarathian prison that sealed him into exile for eternity. It prevented him from entering Earth in his true, most powerful form, the only form that he could kill with, which was greatly angering to him. So he continues to search, continued to destroy until he found the right maiden to birth the daughter that would be his portal to Earth.

A few yards behind the group of darkly-clothed people was a large stain-glass window image of Jesus Christ, beautifully put together, almost radiating the sun itself. At least, before the cult smashed the window out, breaking every last piece of the formerly stunning mural.

The goal of Hail Trigon was simple- to summon the demon lord so he could at last fulfill his plans- to dominate the entire universe.

The chants were starting. "The gem shall be his portal. He comes to claim, he comes to sire; the end of all things mortal."

Angela blinked quickly. She had been distracted for a few seconds. Crap. The teenager squeezed her eyes shut and began mouthing the chant, folding her hands in a prayer position in front of her chest.

She was finally getting immersed in the chants when the hooded person next to her elbowed Arella in the side.

"Ow!" Angela yelped, her eyes flying open. There were several "Shhh's!" from the group.

The same person grabbed her hand firmly and yanked it down so they were holding hands.

"Hey- oh." Angela had forgotten that holding hands was necessary in order to have a chance at summoning Trigon. Angela pressed her lips together and closed her eyes again, trying to focus.

"Angela!"

Angela, startled, dropped the hand she was holding and opened her eyes again. What did I do now?

"Why are you not speaking?" the head of the cult at the top of the hand-holding circle, called Brother Blood, demanded. There were disapproving mutters from other members.

"I-I wasn't? " Angela hadn't even noticed that her mouth hadn't been moving, she had been concentrating on trying to do everything else right. Her hands grew clammy and began to feel moist with sweat. "Brother Blood, I'm-"

"Just go," the towering man boomed. Back to the sanctuary. We do not have time for this incompetence."

Angela just stayed put out of fear, legs and lips quivering. The candlelight loomed ominously over Brother Blood's face, making him look even more intimidating to the girl. Angela felt a rush of cold air, and began to shiver. The black holes were coming back.

"I said GO!" Angela took off, almost running back to the sanctuary, not even trying to be graceful or precise like everyone else seemed to be. She just knew she wanted to shut her eyes and never open them again.

Angela burst into the cathedral, gasping, not stopping until she reached the blanket she slept on, sprawled across the velvet floor of the church. There she collapsed and dropped her head into her arms, crying. She'd never be able to fit in here.

They couldn't make her leave, could they? Angela had nobody else, not that anybody in the cult was much of somebody. Nobody but the black holes and the wailing creatures. Oh, how she wanted them all to go away.

That night Angela cried herself to sleep.