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It started with a whispered hiss, pulling her from the gauzy realm of sleep. "Child. Wake up you stupid slattern!" Chlor's voice was insistent, almost panicked. She remembered that, because in all the years she had lived with the cruel woman she had never once heard her sound afraid. "Sydelle, I said get up!" Cold, thin fingers grasped Sydelle's upper arm, tugging the sleepy girl into a sitting position.

Sydelle blinked her burgundy eyes slowly as the familiar sharp features of Chlor became more focused. "Whats wrong?" She asked, her voice fuzzy. "Chlor? Whats happening?"

"It's coming, that's whats happening you idiot. Get into the closet. Or under the bed. I don't care... just hide!"

"Hide from what?"

"The Reapers, you foolish child!" The woman drew herself up and Sydelle saw that she was dressed in the severe black dress she saved for meetings with the other guardians. The dress that was so black it never showed bloodstains. Chlor was going to fight, Sydelle knew. Chlor was going to fight, not just for herself but to save Sydelle's life as well. A strange warmth surged up in the girl's chest, but she knew better than to speak words of love or appreciation. Instead, she snapped quickly to full consciousness and the practical side of her began to focus.

"What shall I do if you die?"

"Pretend you're one of them. A human." The old lady narrowed her eyes. "Tell them I was going to eat you." It was the first time she had ever smiled at Sydelle, and the smile was a gruesome one. And then she was gone, and Sydelle never saw her alive again.

There were pieces of her, though. Splattered throughout the house. It had not been a clean death, that much was obvious. Chlor must have fought viciously. When the Reapers found her huddled under her bed the fear that vibrated in the air was not feigned, they only misread it as fear of Chlor. But it wasn't. The only people in that house the night that Chlor died who realized that those Reapers had been marked for death by a scrawny teenaged girl was the girl herself. Sydelle held no love for Chlor in her heart, at least not the warm gooey sort of love that most people thought of. But there was a fierce loyalty to the woman who had taught her to be what she was. Who had taught her control. Who had given her the skill to sit quivering in a room full of Reapers who would kill her on the spot if they knew what she was and remain undiscovered. Who was to say that wasn't love, after a fashion?

"The blood. So much blood..." The words were out of her mouth before she had even fully awakened. Sydelle sat up with a start, clutching her nightgown close to her slender body, eyes wide and unseeing. It was the same nightmare she had every night since coming to the Academy. Over and over she re-lived Chlor's murder at the hands of those Reapers and over and over she saw their faces, burned into her memory. She didn't know their names, but she would never forget their faces. They had wrapped her shivering form up in blankets and whispered to her that it was okay. That she was safe now, no Witch Eater would ever hurt her again. Did she have parents? No? Her mother had been killed by a Witch Eater? Ah, well then. Something must be done with her. She was too old for adoption, really. Perhaps fostering. Did she have any talent for magic? Some? Well then. The Royal Academy would become her new home. There were, apparently, scholarships for orphans.

Sydelle looked around the small room that had become her own. At first it had been so stark and bare. Which she had actually rather liked. It reminded her of Chlor. The woman's home had been full of rich furnishings and trinkets that nobody ever enjoyed. Despite it's appearance, it had been a stark life for Sydelle. At least her dorm room was honest. In her mind, it was more of a prison that Chlor's home had ever been. At least, that was how she had felt in the beginning. When she had been lost, not knowing if she would ever hear from any of the Others ever again. Not knowing how to contact them or even if it would be safe to try. They were trained from early childhood never to speak of the Others. That if you were taken, no word of the hidden organization of Majin must ever cross your lips, not even on pain of torture. The lessons were hard, but they were effective. So she had waited, unfocused and unsure, until they contacted her.

It had been a relief to have orders. Even if the orders were to remain where she was, blend in, excel and learn everything she could about the inner workings of the Academy. Sydelle had no way of knowing if there were others like her enrolled in the Academy. Not just Majin, but Majin who were members of the organization. It was possible, she supposed... She had been told that this sort of schooling was not the way it was done. But the organization worked in small cells, so information was always a little bit spotty. And the information that trickled it's way down to Sydelle has always been sparse.

After she had heard from the organization, things had gotten better for Sydelle. She had begun meeting people and learned that her fellow students were so highly emotional that the school was essentially a giant buffet of mana. To that end, she started making "friends" and focusing on her grades. It wasn't easy, though. The teachers were not foolish and the town was filled with Reapers and Knights. There was constant fear of being discovered. Sydelle found herself taking on the role of a vulnerable, victimized girl. One in need of protection and sympathy. People didn't look twice at her after that, and the dark circles under her eyes and the fretful crease in her brow was easily explained away.

"So much blood." Sydelle repeated to herself, letting go of her nightgown and running a hand through her hair. There would be more blood, she knew. And she would be the one to draw it. Some day. When she was stronger. When she had made the sacrifice and eaten her first Witch's heart. But until then, she would bide her time. Everything else would have to wait, including her nightmares - she had a history test in the morning.