Within His Soul (Ciel Phantomhive x OC fanfiction 黒執事)

Part 1, Ashes of Memory

         Erin Bethany Rose Midford (she preferred Erin, long titles were just so dreary), was vaguely aware of her ancestry. Her great grandmother of her grandmother, Lady Elizabeth Midford, was rich beyond belief, and was the last and final heir to the infamous Funtom company in the Victorian Era. It was unbelievable that such a young processor to the company could have so much success, and she was even a woman. In the end she committed suicide in her grief in the loss of her late fiancé, who had mysteriously disappeared with his butler after the Great Fire of London. He was presumed dead, and with no other heir to the Funtom Company, Elizabeth distracted herself from her grief by carrying on her fiancé's business as best as she could. It was a very sad and dark history, twined with mystery like thorns around a rose. Erin found her ancestry line fascinating; who knew she descended from Knights?

Now Erin longed to know more about her ancestor's fiancé, who had the infamous title of Earl Ciel Phantomhive, the Queen's Watchdog. Just the name itself sent shivers up Erin's spine, an intimidating and mysterious title. A boy so young keeping track of the underworld had to be hiding something right? As Erin looked ahead to see two replica ruins of the Phantomhive manors, original and rebuilt, she was filled with a sense of irony. The first one burned down, only to be rebuilt exactly the same way. Then THAT one burnt down, leaving two ruins of the same manor right near each other. It seems that the mansion was destined to burn, one way or another. A thick feeling hung in the air, of loss and remorse....and evil. Something vile lurked in the shadows here, a presence not of this Earth. The unknown always bewildered Erin, yet she still seeked the truth. That was when she noticed a trail. A dirt path overgrown with thickets and ruins led up to what seemed an abandoned cathedral, where the feeling of agony seemed to radiate from, like it was imprinted in the Earth. Erin was glad she wore her combat boots today as she cleared somewhat of a path in the debris clouding her way. As she descended the road, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach steadily grew with each step she took upward, tightening into a knot of fear.

Finally Erin reached a desolate clearing, with large deep cracks in the foundation of stone. In the distance, fog gloomily shrouded a marble bench where a pile of stuff lay. As Erin approached the pile to get a clearer view, a small but bright glint caught her inquisitive eye. The pile seemed to be a heap of ratty cloth, and Erin gently separated it with her hands, fearing it would turn to ash. There in the center was a large ring, the gem fogged with dust. With a shaking hand Erin picked it up, the dull and cool weight of the metal reassuring in her palm. Erin blew off the dust, only to gasp at the clear and mesmerizing cerulean blue of the sapphire cut in the ring. What was something this valuable doing in a pile of rubble? Erin considered pawning it excitedly, but a feeling of curiosity once again washed over her. It was such a pretty ring, maybe she could keep it for herself...? Erin played with the idea, slipping the ring on her dainty index finger only to find it was a tad too large. Erin then tried her thumb, and gasped as a cold pang penetrated her chest.

A manor, a fire, a boy lost and afraid. A burning hallway, dead parents and a dog, all simmering to ashes. Two rough hands, a frightening mask, and a cage...Erin watched helplessly as terrifying glimpses of torture and selling of sex slaves flashed before her eyes, a frail boy stripped of his clothes, family, and dignity, and being branded with "the mark of a beast". She watched stabbing occur to innocent children from a deranged and wretched cult...and a loud cry for help, for revenge. Shadows, shadows swirled all around her and the boy, and Erin could only watch as nothing she could describe but a demon strut out to the boy, claws taking his outstretched hand. The demon listened to his plea, formed a contract in return for his soul, and thus the killing began. It was all flashing too fast now, Erin felt as if she was trapped in a hurricane. She had to pull this ring off! But it was too overwhelming; fire swirling everywhere, shadows engulfing her, she felt the absolute hate and fear and loss radiating off this one little boy. She saw flashes of a violet pentagram, of guns and war and pain. He was beautiful and dangerous, a king moving his pawns. Yet in the end he would trade his soul for his glorious reigning victory. She suddenly recognized the Earl with his butler clad in raven black, eyes a crimson red, wings unfurled and horrifying. This was...Ciel Phantomhive's life, his journey, and his prolonged death. And that butler, ever following, ever watching, would in the end, go in for the kill. He had consumed the perfect soul, an even balance of light and darkness, pure and tainted. He turned his back on the light, yet strived for justice. Erin gasped and yanked off the ring as it clattered to the ground with a thud. She curled up on the ground hugging her knees, panting for air, as darkness surrounded the edges of her vision. Black dots danced before her eyes, as she weakly reached out and gripped the ring, before slipping away into the abyss.