Raven of Destruction

Purification

The masks were in an uproar. Apparently, while sacrificing Phantomhive to summon a demon, he had summoned a demon and the demon had gotten said boy out. Or something like that.

Who am I? I am Lady Raven Darkfeather, the only living member of my family.

And I was caged up. Not to mention the chains. Or the daily whippings, the scheduled branding, and--

You know what? I think you got it. I was in a terrible situation for an eleven year old.

Did Phantomhive think, 'Hey, maybe I should release that girl who sat across from me in her cage!'? No. He left me to rot.

Narcissist boy.

All of these thoughts ran through my mind as I was cut with a dagger once more. Don't these people have regular knives? Why do they have to be all fancy?

"It is time." Someone whispered. Drained, I didn't put up much of a fight as someone picked me up and took me to another room, where they laid me on another metal table. I sighed and closed my eyes.

"We must cleanse the spirit of this girl." A loud voice boomed. Oh, sacrifice the guys to the demons and try and cleanse the girls' souls? How sexist can you get? "She is tainted."

Pretty sure I haven't done anything that would taint my soul, thank you very much. Really don't need you to clean it or anything.

"Even now, her thoughts ooze poison." Gee, I wonder why. It can't be the fact that you're keeping my captive and torturing me, that would be crazy.

Wow, I'm really sarcastic when I'm in pain.

"Start the ritual."

I wanted to scream at them. Let's not start the ritual! I really don't want to be part a ritual!!

The men started to chant. It seemed really ominous. Not really what I had in mind for a cleaning spell. A searing pain erupted on the back of my left shoulder, and I really did scream.

A dam broke and I began crying for someone to save me, anyone, anything. For them to stop, please. The pain stayed despite my cries. It felt as if I was on fire.

"Make it stop, please make it stop!" I begged. It did, sorta. It lessened anyway. A man picked my shaking body up. It carried me to a vat of bubbling red liquid. That better not be blood.

The man dropped me. The liquid burned horribly. I opened my mouth to scream--something I would never do if I wasn't in as much pain as I was--and accidentally swallowed some. The man grabbed the back of my torn dress and pulled me out, coughing and retching. They did this many, many times.

When they finally stopped and put me on the table, I was whimpering at the slightest touch. The chanting picked up strength and grew louder. Pain shot through me, more intense than anything I had felt so far. The chanting was drowned out by my shrieks. It felt like my soul was being heated to white-hot temperatures. Overwhelmed, I passed out.

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-O-O-O-

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"What do you mean it went wrong?!" Someone shouted. I groaned.

"Her soul still has some darkness. It isn't all the way clean." Another voice answered calmly. "I suspect those two marks on her shoulder blades."

Marks on my shoulders? My weird birth marks? One is a weird black mark that looks like a M or bird, depending. The other looks like a snake in a circle.

But why the heck would they matter?! IT'S NOT LIKE AN OCCULT GROUP BRANDED THEM ON ME. (Holy fudge... read that like a normal sentence, I'm too lazy to retype it without caps lock)