The knife was wet with her mother's blood. Thick and red, it dripped slowly from the savage blade, glistening in the harsh light of a dozen candles. Lifeless eyes stared back at her in shock and horror, offset by the smile of parted flesh that marred the woman's throat in a grotesque grin.
Around her, the bodies of several cultists lay dead, their ruby robes hiding the crimson stains of their wounds where her magic had shredded flesh and twisted limbs into unnatural positions. There was fratres Theodor and Simon, soror Margret, and pater Demos. They had raised her since her birth. Now they were dead.
The broken circle of salt burned against her skin, but she ignored it. They had thought it would be enough to stop her, but they'd been wrong. Salt worked on demons and some witches, but she was part human too. Humans could overcome those things, if the will was strong enough. Her will had been stronger than theirs, bolstered by her by the burning rage of her demonic father.
Across from her, staring down at the woman who had born him his daughter, was the image of her father. Trigon, the terrible, the terrifying, the destroyer, was carved in the image of a man with four glowing ruby eyes and antlers coming from his forehead, seated on a throne of skulls. An idol, just like it, rested in the temple above. She'd been raised to love and adore that image.
Now she bore it nothing but hatred.
At sixteen years old, Rachel Roth earned her liberation via the deaths of the two dozen people she'd called family. Her teachers, her friends, and now her mother. She'd left none of them alive. Only the final kill had been one of mercy. Her mother had been trapped down here for fourteen years, her limbs removed from below the elbow and knee, her mouth sewn shut, bound to an altar as an ever living sacrifice to the demon who had raped and defiled her with a demonic child.
Crimson eyes, like those of her father, gazed at the carnage of her rage. Today was her birthday. It had been meant to be a celebration. Mater Solomon had been baking Rachel's favorite angel food cake, so sinfully light and fluffy and sweet. There were going to be strawberries and freshly whipped cream, with little black candles to mark how old she was.
She'd even been planning to sneak away that night with Frater Simon. They'd gaze at the stars, and make out, and after he went down on her, she was finally going to make love to him. A reward for his years of loyal service and absolute adoration. Now he was dead and she was the one that killed him.
Her slim, sensual body shook as what she'd done struck her. Everyone was dead. Everyone who had served her. Who had worshiped and loved and adored her. All of them. Because she'd learned the horrific truth of what they'd done all those years ago to a woman she'd never even known or remembered.
She fell to her knees in the blood, the salt it had absorbed irritating her bare skin. Tears fell from her eyes and she let out a bone chilling scream of pain and rage. Ebony waves of power lashed out, making the crimson liquid splash in the gusts of wind that tore the air in their wake. Candles flickered and died, leaving her in a darkness lit only by the crimson eyes of her father's idol, the burning orbs in her own hauntingly beautiful face shut tight in torment.
It had happened so suddenly. She'd touched Pater Demos' arm as he'd tried to guide her away from the pile of presents.
'It's not yet time, my dear little Raven,' he'd said with a smile. A smile filled with adoration and love. How many times had he bounced her on his knee, or tickled her, or tucked her into bed with a bedtime story? This time, however, she'd seen what was behind the love. Seen the moment of her conception, as Pater Demos had held the rope that bound her mother's wrists over her head as the manifestation of Trigon took his pleasure in the young woman who had joined the cult looking for somewhere to belong. Seen the moment when, years later, Pater Demos had held that rope again as her mother's limbs were hacked off with a saw because she'd tried to run away with her child.
A child destined to open the portal for her Father so he could claim this world in fire and blood.
Raven. The name made so much more sense now. She'd been told it was because of the birth mark on the small of her back, which looked like a scrollwork tramp stamp in the shape of a bird with its wing spread in flight. The carrion crow. The one who would feast on the corpses her father left behind as he slaughtered the world into subjugation.
She'd snuck down here, into this secret place, revealed in his memories, while they were all busy getting ready to celebrate her special day. The day they would use her to bring her father into this world. The day she was born for. Found her mother, mute and mutilated on the alter in a circle of salt where she wasn't supposed to be able to reach.
Lived the woman's memories. Memories of meeting Frater Andrews and thinking she was falling in love. Being initiated into the cult slowly, till one night they brought her here, bound her hands, spread her legs, and let the devil take her. First in the form of the man she loved, then as his true self. Felt everything, every touch, every caress, every pain.
Lived through the memories as her mother decided she needed to escape with her daughter, to get the child away from this horrible, evil place. Only to get caught at the last minute. Forced to watch as her child was taken away to be raised as a demonic witch, while she was dragged down into hell, cut to pieces, and sealed away under the baleful gaze of the one she had betrayed, the one who had raped her with child.
She'd gone back upstairs, dazed, confused, broken. Ignored everyone's questions when they noticed something was wrong. Till she couldn't ignore it anymore, and needed to know who else had been behind the masks at her mother's rape, her mutilation. They had cried out in pain as she forced her way into their memories.
It was one thing to suffer something and another to do it to someone. Mater Solomon, who had pretended to be her mother's best friend, the one who chose her for the ceremony, was the one who had cut away that dreadful night. A chef's skill wasn't so different from a butchers or a doctors. Meat was meat, especially meat that had to go.
Frater Theodor, who had taught her all her magic and spells, had been the one to summon her father to this world that night. He'd been the one to bind her mother's soul to her tormented flesh and set up the protective circle that would prevent Rachel from ever knowing where her mother was or what had been done, much less reach her. Had it not been for the Pater's slip, she would never have known.
The pain, the betrayal, the fury, had been too much. She was her father's daughter. Her power had raged and killed the lesser members of the cult. Then, while the rest were stunned, she'd run back down to her mother. Why, she didn't know. All Rachel knew was she had to go there. To the place it had all started.
The place it would end.
They'd followed her, found her slamming herself against the circle in an attempt to release her mother. Mater Solomon had been the first to fall, pierced by Rachel's black power through the heart. Pater had tried next, only get his head almost twisted off his head. Frater Theodor had tried to cast a binding spell, only for Simon, sweet Simon, full of faith and lust for her, to try and stop the sorcerer. The binding spell hit him, breaking his mortal shell. Raven tore out her teacher's guts for stealing her potential lover away.
The blood had washed away enough of the salt that she could cross. Her mother, she didn't even know the woman's name, had stared up at her helpless and terrified. For a moment, Rachel had though of releasing her, taking her to a hospital, but one look at Theodor's spells and she knew the woman was bound there till Trigon himself released her. There was only one thing to do, so she did it.
Now she was all alone. Alone without her family, without worshipers, without anything but her magic.
Alone with the knowledge that Trigon was coming. He would use her to reach this world and turn it into a charnel house of blood and brimstone. She couldn't let that happen. They'd told her that she'd be a princess when her father came, given dominion over this world and that they would love and care for her eternally when Trigon raised them up. Now, though, she felt that a lie. Everything had been a lie her entire life. Nothing she knew was real, or true, or right. Not the cult, not her mother's fate, her father's designs, none of it.
Slowly she picked herself up from the bloody pool and left behind the corpses of her once family. She would go out, out into the world she'd never visited. Find people who would help her keep her father from this world. Yes, that's what she would do.
It was time to leave Rachel Roth behind. She would become something new. Something born from this death. The Raven.
As she walked through the echoing stone hallways of her labyrinthine home, she stripped off the clothes they had given her. Those were the clothes of a cult's goddess and a little girl. Not what she would be from now on. By the time she reached the main hall, her only garments was the blood she had shed.
She caught sight of her birthday feast, now in ruins, and the pile of presents. On a whim, she went to them and opened them one by one. A cloak of crimson silk from her Frater. A metallic chain belt with containers faced with crimson gems from her Mater. A spell book, ancient and powerful, from Frater Theodor. A black leotard, high cut and with long sleeves, made of latex from dear, sweet Simon, picked out of a catalog he'd found one day. A tear trickled down her cheek. They would never be together now.
She waved her hand, black power flowing down her body to cleanse it of the blood and leave her clean. Gently, she slipped into the leotard, running her fingers under the fabric over her hips and ass to adjust the thong style back to fit better. It clung to her like a second skin, making her think of how his arms would have felt that night when they were finally alone. The cloak went around her shoulders, pinned in place by a broach one of her soritas had gotten her in the shape of a black raven. The belt went around her hips, closing with a snap. Of the rest of her gifts, she took what she thought might be useful, putting them into her belt if they would fit, and then slipped the rest along with her grimoire into a leather bag someone had given her, which she slung over her shoulder under the cloak.
The last things she took were the cash, gold, silver, and gems she could easily carry. How far they would take her, she didn't know, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that she had them for now. It wouldn't, couldn't, be that hard to get more later if she needed. Not with her magic and power.
The exit from her former catacomb home came out in an old abandoned church. The unconsecrated grounds no long held any power to harm her, though it had disguised her presence well enough while she had grown up. With a wave of her hand and effort of her will, she sealed the great stone shut over the entrance and sealed it with three words, "Mea voluntas manifesta."
Her bare feet made soft slapping sounds against the ancient boards till she reached the doorless vestibule and looked out upon the city. The sights and sounds of nighttime Paris greeted her, welcoming her to her new life in a new world.
A soft hiss escaped her as a piece of broken stained glass cut the bottom of her foot. Looking down in the darkness, she saw the face fo the Virign Mary staring up at her, pale skin stained with crimson blood made black in the night. For all her power and heritage, she still had weaknesses in this world. Her bare feet were vulnerable to things like this, and her footprints could render her vulnerable to certain attacks.
Carefully, she wiped away the blood and rose up into the air. Frater Theodor had given her a potion as a child that allowed her to fly. She would use that for now, until she found some boots to protect her feet. Something stylish, to go along with dear Simon's gift.
With an effort of will, she closed her second set of eyes and made sure that her human ones did not glow with demonic power. There were those out here who would try to stop her. She doubted that those she left behind were the only ones who worshiped her father, and there would be others who would want her dead, controlled, or otherwise dealt with because of him as well. It was important to stay hidden until she had found some allies.
There was a small fountain by the door where once holy water had been collected for the faithful. Carefully, she let the blood she had collected from her foot drip into the rainwater that had replaced it. The scum and algae burst into flame and smoke as she muttered a scrying spell, her power flowing into the sacrilegious waters.
Slowly an image formed. A young boy, with black hair, furious expression, garbed in crimson and black like her, but armed with a warrior's weapons. A dispossessed prince, hungry for his kingdom of assassins. Skilled, potent, and potentially powerful enough to face her father's cults.
Perfect.
AN: This all started with an idea on a thread about a darker verison of the Titans called "The Olympians." That thread had the idea of Robin never escaping being Slade's apprentice, him forming a relationship with Terra, and a host of other good ideas that I thought about writing. In the end though, something else came about. The idea of "what if Raven's mom never escaped the cult, but Raven still decided to oppose her father." And so, drawing on elements from several different versions of the Teen Titans, as well as some other lore, I ended up writing this 'origin' story for my own idea of a darker set of titans with three characters at the core: Raven, Damian, and Blackfire. Three teens, all nobles in their own right, each stripped of the throne that should have been theirs. Chapters should be going up around every Saturday.
On an aside, for readers of my other stories, I am working on a sequel to Steel Leashes, which focuses on Kim Possible and the effects of SL on her and her life. I have also begun posting my original novel, The Demon's Rite, for beta reading since several people expressed interest in Blackwolf and the other characters who played a part in Steel Leashes. It can be found on AO3 under my pen-name Sulla_of_Rome, with chapters going up around Mondays.