Azula screamed.

All her life, she'd strove for utter perfection. To be praised, valued, and cherished byone person. The only person of more significance, of more value than herself; her father.

It was a lie she told herself, a lie that she'd tried, desperately, to ignore. She craved validation, but the only validation she craved was her own. But that was a lie too; she wanted to be wanted. She wasn't a monster! She, her, Ty Lee, Mai, Zuko; they, her father! He loved her! He made her Fire Lord!

She moaned as she fell and collapsed against the hard iron grates. Tears leaked from her eyes as she felt the icy water soak into her bones, shivers passing through her body as she seethed flames of blue from her mouth.

She'd lost; she'dlostshelost! (She was a monster! Her own mother didn't love her! She was a failure!)

Movement caught her eye and she lunged, a breath of flame blowing from her mouth; Zuko weakly gesturing a hand towards the flame, the movement blowing her flames to the wayside. She glared murder at her brother, weakly collapsing to her knees, straining against the chains; then kicking back, desperately trying to rip herself free. She felt skin tear and rip at her wrists, bones popping in her hands. She cried in pain, but she had to win! She had to!

She collapsed, energy spent as she moaned once more.

Azula felt the agonizing pain from one of that fucking savage's ice blades flare along her inner thigh, she moaned, pressing her face against the grate and glaring down in murky darkness. The flames of their fight burned and cast reflections against the flowing aquifer below, allowing her to see the drip-drip of a dark liquid leaking from her leg.

"Zuko! We have to help! She'll be fine." She heard the savage utter, pulling at her brother's arm.

She growled weakly, glaring up at her brother who hesitantly stared down at her just the same. Then he pulled away, and she watched him leave.

"Zuko!" She screamed, "D-don't…" She hissed, "Please! Don't leave me here! Brother!" Azula screamed, begging him.

She was so cold.

Azula shivered weakly gasping as all energy had been pulled from her body, she gasped out breaths of air; hopeful eyes staring up at…

No one.

She shivered once more, tears leaking down her face as she curled into herself on the cold and hard metal. She bawled, abandoned by her own flesh and blood once again; Zuko, her Mother, Father, Ty Lee, Mai!

'They'd all pay!' An insidious voice cried.

She moaned in pain, bones and fractures creaking in her body, gasping breaths of air being taken as her beating kept raging; more blood was leaking, more life and energy fading from her. She tried to warm herself, but all that was conjured was a pathetic orange flame that slowly dimmed itself into an off red.

As energy slowly left her, her thoughts drifted.

She'd lost…

For what?

Her father, he'd become the Phoenix King! He'd save her! He gave her…

He gave her a meaningless title. Subservient to him. An empty title, kneeling before Ozai like one of his sycophants. She saw how he looked down at her; a tool, a weapon, never…

Never as a daughter.

Azula took a deep, weak and raspy breath.

'I'm dying.' She dimly realized. Panic surged through her, and it only had her bawl even more. Her tears were fat and thick as death's grip surged through her, and as she slowly bled away into the waters below; Azula felt fear. Her voice, weak as it was, rasped out names; the names of her friends. Names of those that she needed to love her; to care for her.

No one came for her.

Azula slowly realized as she bled out on a grate; 'I'm going to die alone.'

Tears flowed, until they dried up. Her body grew colder and colder, her heart hurt with each slowing beat; and with one last intake of breath…

Azula died.

"It is a female."

It was the first voice she heard.

Azula screamed as she was taken up by large hands, curling around her body with a cold warmth to them. She was handed off to something, bathed in water that had her remember the Savage, before she was swaddled in something soft.

Energy, warmth, and life came to her; Azula's mind spiraling as she was taken into hard and steady arms, braced into a soft bosom.

"Aww, she's so cute!" She heard a chipper voice speak, the words and language foreign to her ear, but she understood them all the same. Azula went to glare at whoever dared speak of her as such and found a massive face smiling down with a radiant smile.

She was a beautiful woman with a few braids in soft pink hair, although the unnatural color looked good on the woman. Her bright face held a brilliant smile as she cooed and took a large finger to tap her on her brow.

Azula went cross eyed, before the woman turned to someone else. She tried to follow the gaze, but was incapable of doing so, swaddled as she was. "Would you like to hold her, Aim?"

She heard a masculine hum, and she was lifted, and then deposited into new arms. They carried her up, then turned her to face whoever held her in their arms.

Azula felt her mouth dry up and eyes widen. The man that held her was unfathomably handsome; whoever the woman that held her previously was, she was uncannily beautiful -and a small piece of her admitted that she was more beautiful than she was- but this man…

He was uncanny.

He smiled, and it was false; fake. His eyes curled into crescents, projecting a mask of emotion that couldn't hide the inquisitively cold purple eyes that they framed. She felt naked under that gaze, felt cold, stripped bare, and judged.

"You too, huh?" She heard him mutter, "Do you have a name for her?" His eyes never left her own, although the question was obviously projected to the woman in the bed.

"No, I figured you'd want to name her."

The man smiled, "Albedo." He stated, curling her into one arm and bracing her against his chest. His other hand stroked along her cheek, "Her name shall be Albedo Haborym, Daughter of Aim." He stated, then glanced at the woman.

Azula managed to turn her shocked and bewildered gaze to the woman, struggling to follow what was happening; what has happened. She felt lethargic, lost, dizzy, her eyes weren't focusing right. She growled, growing angry at her weakness.

"We did not discuss much on how to raise her; or at least, you made no mention." Aim, the large man holding her said to the woman on the birthing bed. Strange men silently served her, bringing her a refreshment that she took, replacing pillows and blankets with fluidity and grace.

"You already seem to have a plan." The woman, her new mother (?) shrugged. Azula struggled to comprehend the fact that this woman was her mother; but evidence was mounting.

"True." Her father stated, a sigh escaping from his mouth. "The war is culling back with the emplacement of the Gates; the Angelic forces seem more concerned with defense and their offensive actions into Hell are paltry." Her father mused, "I won't have my progeny be worthless, so I'll see about testing for talents; anything would be notable, although martial talent would be valued. Anything would, really." She stared up at her father who was pulling a disgusted expression; "Our race is so very uncultured."

Her mother gave a large yawn, "You do that, dear." She gave Azula a curious gaze, "Am I allowed to visit?" She asked, a tentative hope in her tone.

Her father hummed, "Of course. Be sure to entertain her as much as you find agreeable, but for the most part her education will be left to the Brains and my Servitors. I have needs elsewhere, of course, so any time that could reinforce a social connection to at least one of her parents would be desired." Her father's voice was clinical as he explained child-rearing, and Azula wondered if Ozai sounded the same when she was born.

The pink haired woman smiled, "What activities do you believe we should engage in?" Her mother gave her something of a lost look, "I don't believe the common activity of Haktih is good for a child who doesn't have our gift of accelerated development." Azula blinked at the word Haktih, a noun that meant 'killing Hell-Beasts crawling out of the Pits', a sport of sorts.

Her father's chest rumbled with amusement, "No. She'll be growing up within the realms of Apocrypha and the Imperalis Sanctum. Of course I wouldn't deprive her of more combative needs, so I'll likely see about engineering something similar when she reaches an acceptable level of maturity." He gazed down at Azula, her new father's purple eyes peering down at her in a way that made her heart squirm within her tiny chest. "I'd like to take her to visit Rubedo, if you wouldn't mind?"

Her mother gave a tired yawn and waved them both away, and with her father she was taken away from her mother. He lifted her up as he walked, exiting the infirmary into a grand and expansive hall that greatly reminded her of the Fire Nation's Palace. However, this hallway was even more expansive, with arching ceilings done with marvelous texture and patterns in the stonework; and as they walked Azula found herself inundated with artworks draped along the walls. Kept inside of glass displays, marvelous glasswork, pottery, earthworks, statues; wealth, riches, and adornments covering every inch.

Servants bowed, many kneeling or outright groveling on the ground as they passed, making Azula's eyes widen. Even her father didn't project this level of fear and terror that she saw in the eyes of the supplicants, although there were many still and stiff men who wore odd leather masks with bulbous glass eyes -reminding her greatly of the Fire Nation Engineering Corps- who merely saluted.

Her father took her along these halls, fresh from her birth Azula felt fatigue catch up to her; the warmth of her father's breast and the comfort and odd safety she felt in his arms lulling her to sleep. But her pride and curiosity left her awake, her eyes catching sight of wonderous pieces of artwork, many of which had her pausing in shock at their depictions.

Brutality and murder, battle and war, horrific, grand, and mythical in their depictions. Each artwork her father casually walked by, Azula felt should've been locked away in the most sacred of vaults to preserve their marvelous splendor. Winged men and creatures of odd geometry faced down against mishappen beasts and horrid monstrosities, odd powers and mystic splendor being depicted like benders, but of light, of odd energies, and of strange powers.

Her father's voice startled her out of her introspections, "Your soul is unique, my daughter." His voice was calm and quiet as he spoke, but it was obvious he was addressing her. "You are not an infant, and if I were to guess." He paused in step to glance down at her, "A girl of fifteen? Sixteen years of age? Somewhere around there."

Azula felt her heart pounding, fear at the perception of this man who called her daughter. "You are not unique in this, little one; so is my other daughter, and when I first noticed it in her, I felt the need to dash her skull against the cobbles; harvesting her soul to better understand this phenomenon before me." Azula squirmed. What sort of man casually spoke of killing his own children! "But Lucifer would be cross with me, and in a way; I do still feel a lingering bit of emotion towards you two. Perhaps I could become a loving father one day, but for now, you will need to adapt to me as I am now."

She heard the man sigh, "I believe introductions are needed. My name is Aim Haborym Morningstar; I am the King of Hell, servant to my Queen." He felt her stiffen in surprise, "Yes, Hell is indeed a Matriarchy, although Lucifer was initially a man before I made him my wife." She stared.

Aim chuckled, "It does sound odd, doesn't it? Your mother too was once a man, but he too was made a woman. Zepar, or Zepp as I call her, was a gay man. He loved his own gender and propositioned me numerous times; to which I agreed to under the stipulation I would fuck him as a woman, not a man." Her father turned his eyes towards her, "Zepar, your mother, is a lustful being. I would be rather cross if you were to follow in her footsteps, but I'd understand if you do. Just know that any partner you seek to carry with you for a significant amount of time will need to be worthy in my eyes; and do watch out for possible assassination attempts, committed by yours truly." He chuckled, "It'd be a good lesson to learn how to protect what you love and care for, yes? Lessons for the future, my dear. Lessons for the future." His finger tapped her on her baffled and horrified face.

"Continuing on, as you are my spawn and the spawn of Zepar; you are Wild Oats. A bastard if you would." Azula froze, horror etching itself into her being. That was bad. Very bad.

"Oh? You seem to understand what that means. Well, truth be told, I don't truly love your mother. Only one being holds my heart, and that is my wife, Lucifer. As my indirect spawn, you were to be fodder, in truth. Trained and manipulated to become a deadly and loyal agent that I could leverage to my needs. If such a thing appeals do tell, but for now I shall tone back the indoctrination and manipulation attempts. As you grow, I shall constantly test you, but your future and fate are in your hands in truth." Her father smiled wryly, "I shall give you any resource you so desire and shall offer you the greatest education I can gather. While I truly doubt you capable of dethroning Lucifer and claiming the Throne of Hell, if that is what you want, I at least won't kill you when you fail; unless you're a dick about it, then the gloves come off and I'll break you into a gibbering fool." His apathetic gaze turned towards her as he rounded a corner, "Don't test me, dear daughter. I promise to be as lenient as possible but exploiting that allowance will have the boot fall."

Azula felt herself hyperventilate. Her father was a fucking psychopath!

She froze as she realized that wasn't anything new.

'W-was this how Zuko felt around Ozai?' Azula thought with dawning realization. She swallowed as her father turned into a room and she was met with a large crib-play area, a girl laying within. Her father set her down on a chair and scooped the girl within, before taking her into his arms and kept walking.

"Wake up, Rubedo. Come on." Her father cooed, "There we are." He woke the other girl, her sister, or half-sister.

Her sister's orange eyes, pale skin, and white hair laced with strands and locks of purple were beautiful. Far more developed than Azula was, fleshy potato as she was, her sister looked divine; like a spirit made flesh. Her sister flinched at her father's gaze, looking away from and squirming as if scared of him. Azula didn't blame the girl; their father was very...intimidating. Azula noted that Rubedo was just as cognizant and aware of her surroundings as she was; likely another reincarnate. The girl stared at her just the same, and likely made the same connection

Taken by their father, the two siblings, half-siblings, started to listen to him speak to them again. "My little girls. I wonder what you two will want to do in life. Perhaps one of you could be a scientist? I'll have to show you my birthing laboratories. Oh, I can't wait to get a few humans to experiment on; delightful creatures they are. Maybe I could create a menagerie for them? Humans living within Hell, the primitive creatures fighting and fucking for sport. A stable population would be nice; but with God sealing the Underworld like a total bitch we'll have to wait until we can play with the mortals."

The two sisters stared at one another in a mutual and shared sense of abject horror. Their father took them to a massive balcony adjacent to the room, holding the two of them to his chest. Azula gazed out with wide eyes at the massive construction taking place, her eyes then drawn up to the burning red skies that were rife with chaotic storms of purple lighting and golden light glaring into the realm.

'Am I in the spirit world?' Azula thought distantly.

"Look down there, my little ones." Their father said softly, "Marching, marching on." He whispered.

The two of them looked down, staring at the matching throngs of warriors; soldiers that looked like small specks from how high up they were within this massive palace. Azula was unable to count how many there were; an unending chain of soldiers spewing out and into the distant horizon at a constant marching pace.

"Hell is currently at war. I'll expect both of you to fight in the war, for many reasons. It is expected of you by the Noblesse. They are cowed for now, made aware of their place, but they will plot and seek to earn themselves freedoms and power beyond their station. Do not allow them to dictate to you, and to do so you must cow them in turn. Make them kneel, as there is little better way to do that than force them." Their father's eyes curled into a smile, cold and corruptive as he stared down at them.

"I expect you to be better than them; you are of greater stock, you are more mature, developed in soul and mind. Thus, you shall be inherently greater than the sinful throngs of the Pillars. You, by your right of birth, have been allotted resources beyond imagining; magical knowledge, skills and arts beyond counting, funding and wealth. Anything and everything you so dare desire, I shall provide, although I shall expect results from such expenditure of resources. You must request, and then pitch an idea or concept to me first if you so desire my support. The only thing that I shall provide to you without question, is if you are deficient in a skill; speak to me and I shall fix it for you. I will not be kind in doing so, so make those requests at your own risk." Her father's voice was a calming and measured thing, focused and determined with power and intelligence coating each word. Azula felt odd, for what he was offering was so unreal in scope. Her father held her and her sister up, gazing intently into her eyes, "Be great, my daughters. Rubedo and Albedo…" Her father frowned, "I will have to broch having sex with Beelzebub with Lucifer." Her father mused idly; his thoughts lost although his muttering was salacious to an extreme. "Nigredo…" He muttered, likely another name.

Azula felt an odd pulse flow through her body, a sudden weightlessness overcoming her as her father took one step to clear the balcony guard and float out into the open air. He crossed his legs as he floated in the air, keeping both her and her sister within his lap and arms. It was an intimate and strange position, Azula feeling an odd sense of protectiveness and safety from the idle gesture, mixed in with no insignificant amount of awe from flying weightlessly through the air. It was obvious that her father was lost in thought, his hands idly stroking through her sister's divine hair while his rough knuckles stroked along her cheek. The affectionate gesture had Azula's heart racing, the fear of the man holding her twisting into an emotion she wasn't unfamiliar with.

Just looking out over the towering spires that were reaching up to the unnatural skies above, Azula felt her mouth dry as the sheer sprawl of this massive project she was witnessing spoke of how great those resources her father was offering. Azula never thought herself a greedy person. Prideful, she could self-reflect. Her birth was a panic inducing event that had her desperately try to ignore her demise. However, as she floated within her father's lap, overlooking such a grand expanse of some divine city held within a realm of obvious mysticism; Azula couldn't help but reflect on her life.

She'd died…

Alone.

She wanted to blame her friends, her family, her father, her brother; she wanted to blame everyone. A bitter hatred brewing within her heart, but as she died, as she lay bleeding out on that damnable grate; Azula knew the truth.

It was her fault she died alone.

Her ambition, her treatment of her friends; every mask she wore to better act as Azula, Princess of the Fire Nation was at fault. The broken, scared little girl who cried at night because her mother called her a monster was at fault; and the masks that the little girl wore and lashed out through, acting as the monster her mother thought her as was at fault.

"Do you know what your name's mean, little ones?" Her father's voice called over the breeze, breaking her out of the fugue of self-doubt and insecurity.

She and her sister turned up to their father within his lap, staring at his smile, specks of real genuine joy in his eyes as his hands filtered along their forms. "Nigredo - The blackening or melanosis, is the first art that is associated with the concepts of decay and entropy. Albedo - The whitening or leucosis, is the second art associated with the concepts of analytical observation and purity. Rubedo - The reddening, purpling, or iosis is the third art associated with concepts of unity and harmony. I named you after two of the three, arguably four, stages of alchemical processes that led to the creation of the Prima Matter, The Magnum Opus, or the Philosopher's Stone." Their father smiled softly, "In a way I see you two as my Albedo and Rubedo; a personal self-reflection on life, to look at what my loins have created. Together, I hope you sisters, and any future siblings I spawn will work together; for only in concert shall you create your own Magnum Opus. Perhaps that shall take the form of defeating and dethroning your mother? Or shall you in turn kill me, establish your own faction and reign? What goals shall you two form? What interest shall capture the eye? I can't wait to see what you shall work into this world. I've created horrors and wonders both, but it is your combined potential, and all my children's potential, that fills me with utmost anticipation. A distant and withdrawn wonder and hope of what my children will work."

Azula glanced to her sister, the older girl staring at her just the same with wide eyes, likely mirroring her own. Then they both curled into one another as their father spoke one last statement.

"Whatever it is, I shall simply say this." Their father turned his haunting gaze to them both, staring each in the eye for a moment.

"Do not disappoint."

'Isekai was real.'

Her birth wasn't one that she remembered greatly; her death was rather…violent all told. She remembered a face, an uncannily handsome man, and silver-hair; then she was taken to a crib, and it was only then that she started to regain some of her cognitive functions to really act on what was happening.

She was an infant, fast growing and still a Devil. She felt her Demonic Energy within her, powerful as it ever was; although she felt something keenly missing, her blood not singing with the raging Power of Destruction that brimmed with untold might, and instead she felt a spark within her soul blazing with light and fire. Small sparks of what she knew to be Holy and Demonic energy mixing in flames that were white tinged with edged black flickered from her fingers, not drawing the attention of the emotionless servant that was watching over her.

She couldn't help but flinch when she first summoned forth the bit of Holy might from the flame within her soul; trauma from her death at the hands of Kokabiel vividly remembered. His spear ripping an arm away, then another lash of the spear, decapitating Sona, a blast of light from his offhand rending her knee from her leg. A stab to the spine, a stab to the shoulder, cruelly dragged along the shoulder blade, a foot pressed into her skull, grinding her screaming face into the asphalt, the breaking of her nose, then a hot burn at the nape of her neck.

And darkness.

She'd been out of it for a long while, her body feeling lax of energy and it was hard for her to keep her thoughts focused without flinching back to her friends; her peerage, her family, her life that she'd lost behind. However, even as she flinched and trembled with the trauma of her death, what she'd left behind and lost, she couldn't deny reality. With curious eyes she tried to summon forth the child within her soul, the one that was grinning with glee at the fact that Isekai was real.

Except it wasn't, and instead she found herself within a regression novel. Which made her panic, because Manhwa were infamously brutal; and it wasn't long before she stumbled into several crying facts of her situation that had her living with a deep-seated fear in her heart.

Her mother was the first person she interacted with, the Devil's All-Speak allowing her to understand her mother's words; and it certainly didn't take her long to figure out that the beautiful woman with white-horns and white-hair wearing a domineering fitted black suit with crimson-red eyes was in fact Lucifer.

The Morningstar.

Humans were still frolicking around on Earth as hunter-gatherers, it was currently BC something-something; holy shit the Great War was being fought still! It was a revolutionary discovery, finding out that her mother was Lucifer; whom she keenly remembered being male in the history books. Which then left her realizing that she was in an Alternate History of her own world, located deep into the past, which in turn had her freaking out that her own parents, her brother and his wife…

Everything would be different. She couldn't in any reasonable capability steer this world, this universe to give birth to her friends. And even if people like Issei, Aneko, Kiba, or Koneko were ever born; then they still wouldn't be them. Not to mention her own parents meeting and marrying again, for her mother was certainly not the Lucifer she remembered from stories or history books.

Her mother cared for her, cooing and smiling, commanding her assigned servant to take utmost care for her. Rias, or as she was known now as Rubedo, was taken into meetings, war-rooms and all sorts of pompous courts. There, in a crib and taken care of by what was known as a 'Servitor', she listened to her mother's work.

Hell Gates, a Seal on the Underworld, new Legions of Hell; alterations, new advancements, guns being used by armed guards within the palace in which she was being raised. She was confused on if this was an alternate universe where Lucifer never died, but they spoke from a timeline of just a few years that the Great War had been fought, warping its way into a battlefield she harshly recognized from her education.

It was several days of these rotations before her mother stated that her father was coming to pick her up. She'd thought that her Father would be a nice break from the rather stressful interactions and proximity to The Queen of Hell. That he'd be someone like her Brother who she could look up to, protect her; make her feel safe from the machinations of the court and future responsibilities.

Rias was wrong. Oh, so very wrong.

The man silently appeared in her room, stole her out of her crib, and brought her to Pandemonium, where he started to literally experiment on her. Fantastical arrays of magical circles, the likes of which shouldn't have been invented until Merlin walked the Earth; paired with dark chanting in a mystical language that had her soul turn into relaxed puddy at the calming reverberations of the deep speech. Then there were the needles! He drew blood, bone marrow; everything was done entirely painlessly, but the principle of the violation was still horrible. Then, after his initial tests were done, her father performed ritual after ritual, tattooed her bones, injected her with everything under the sun. Then came the final revelation, the first words that her father spoke to her during his work beyond idle muttering and mystic chants.

"Your soul is seventeen years old? Unwashed by Samsara." The devil muttered as he gazed down at squiggles of blood being written in the stone. "A reincarnate, huh." He mused, cold purple eyes staring down at Rias.

She'd thought she was about to die. She knew he thought about it. She knew he was thinking about killing her, and she knew it wouldn't be a clean or easy death.

He then cleaned her up and silently took her back to her crib, sitting by her and rocking her crib softly. "I am trying to keep loving you, my daughter. The small little speck of love that my blackened heart holds for you; how betrayed do I feel that the soul within my daughter is not one of my own creation? That it belongs to another, one who calls another man and woman their mother and father?"

He fell silent for several more minutes, Rias feeling her hopes of this new life quickly shrinking in on itself. This never happened in the stories.

Her father then breathed deeply, and he introduced himself. "My name is Aim Haborym Morningstar. You are Rubedo Haborym Morningstar. I will not ask you to forget your life, but I will demand you move past it. They are gone just as you are, and now you exist here, as my daughter. And I demand excellence, I demand love, I demand substance. Not towards me, but to your mother, and to your siblings. This is a secret I will keep to myself; although if my other child, your half-sibling, shares similar qualities; then I shall tell them. You will grow up together, be forged together, and you will strive together. Make much of this life; for I will be watching if you are deserving of it." Her father's eyes narrowed, "Am I understood?"

Rias nodded her head.

His face laxed, nodded back, and then left without another word.

The following day she was roused from her sleep by her father with an infant child in his arms. A girl, as she later realized, named Albedo. Her father took her outside for the first time, flying over the impossibly massive structure that millions of the so-called 'Servitors' were constructing.

The ending note of that conversation didn't just chill her spine, but froze it stone cold.

It was without another spoken word that her father returned both herself and her younger sister to her own crib. The two of them sat there, her father nodding to a servitor that watched over them, then walked away.

Rubedo stared at Albedo.

Rubedo frowned and felt at her throat, babbling a word, then focused her Demonic Energy. Devils were shapeshifters, so manipulating her vocal cords…

"He..Hel..Hello." She babbled out.

Her sister perked up and gave a hesitant wave. "O-old?" She pointed.

The girl, a newborn babe that was merely a potato of baby fat frowned, holding up her hands and showing ten fingers. Then closing one hand and keeping the other up.

"S-sevent-een." She brokenly pronounced, pointing to herself.

Her sister nodded, frowning as she looked a bit lost. Rubedo frowned but understood what the body-language was from her own experience.

She'd died too.

She waddled over to her sister and hesitantly enveloped her in a light hug. The girl flinched, staring at her with wide eyes, before tears started to well; then rage and anger. She was hit with a weak baby-slap, Rubedo giggling as she glomped her little sister, the two wrestling within their crib.

'A new life…she could do that.'