Blood.

There was just so much blood. It covered her front, the floor, and her captors' blade.

For hours, they'd relentlessly attempted to gain information, demanding answers to question after question. They threatened to end her life, to slit her throat and let her bleed out. But, her lips were sealed. She dared not open her throat, not even to scream as he littered her skin with bloody lines.

Her brown eyes were cold, lifeless. They spoke of her acceptance of death. She was not easily defeated, but she knew this battle was lost. The chains that held her down were enchanted, inscribed with wards that blanketed her abilities. But, even without the restraints weakening her, she couldn't fight. They had beaten her so many times and injected so many drugs into her that she couldn't function properly. Her eyes barely open, mouth unable to close fully, and body lax; she was as good as dead bait.

Her captors, on the other hand, were restless. They paced around her with clear agitation. Occasionally, they'd stop to whisper ideas and thoughts to one another before continuing the circle around her. It was clear to them that she wouldn't release her tongue long enough to give any information, so they settled to silence and beatings as they waited.

Her body, bruised and covered with cuts, was on the verge of collapse. Her mental state was no better. She knew well enough to not matter a syllable, but other than that, she was in shambles.

Life memories seemed to play out in front of her. She could see her sisters planting flowers in the garden. She could see her mother, smiling kindly at the scene of them playing tag in the field. She could see her sisters as well as herself laying in her mother's lap, listening to stories of adventure. But she could also see her father. His hand raising to smack his eldest daughter after pummeling his wife into nothing but a bloody mess of skin. She could see the bruises he left on her. She see her mom, bandaged and still bloody, kissing her wounds and comforting her.

Then, she could see him.

Before she could truly witness her times with him, in walked the head of this whole torture operation. She didn't even have to look to know he was nearing her. His metallic footsteps gave him away, the clank of the metal almost enough to make her ears bleed. But it was his arrogance that truly let her know he was there. It rolled off of him in waves, nearly causing her to be physically ill. How could one man be so cocky? Did he truly find himself that worthy?

She was pulled out of her musings, quite in the literal sense. His armored hands fisted her long hair and yanked up, forcing her dull eyes to meet his sinister gaze. He gave a sly smirk, basking in her weak state.

"Not so powerful now, are you?" He mused, pulling her hair tighter. "You almost seem human - to a fool, that is."

He forced her head to the side, his gaze lingering on the gash across her temple. "Beaten, bruised, yet defiant. It's something to marvel..." He released her hair with a shove, letting her head snap down painfully hard. She didn't flinch though, unable to truly feel anything, "...you're stupidity, that is."

He stomped over to the others by the wall. They muttered and conversed with one another. Of course, she could hear every word they said, but she didn't register the meaning of what they meant. She didn't care, anyhow.

She knew she should fight, attempt some form of struggle, but she just couldn't. Her body was just far too weak and her mental health was falling apart. And as far as she was concerned, her silence was fine enough. That proved at least some defiance.

Metal scraped against the floor once more as he pranced over to her. His motives were unknown, but she suspected some form of torture was about to commence. Now, whether that was physical or mental torture was a mystery to her.

Her long, blood-matted locks were yanked once more, his silver fist tightly wound around the hair. "We could torture you for the rest your life, you know this. We could beat you until your insides poured from every tiny pore of your skin. We could cut out your tongue and force it to wag the information we seek. You know what we could do to you, what we will do to you." His gaze hardened as her eyes stayed lifeless, hopeless. "But we won't do anything of the sorts. It would be useless and prove futile. Rather, to save valuable power and time," he raised a golden cup, "we'll welcome you to the New Generation."

And for the first time in months, a reaction was received.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the black sludge in the gold chalice, panic dominating the iris. Her body awoke with energy, her frenzied movements rattling the chains. The stone walls surrounding shook with her struggle, but it was all in vain.

She'd seen what the contents of that chalice did. She watched many of Holy Knights burn, bleed, break because of that chalice. She'd seen men and women alike turn into horrendous creatures of destruction, in both form and soul. She'd seen how that chalice ruined and failed many people.

But even worse, she'd seen it work and win over others.

Her struggle remained pointless for her body was too weak to truly escape. The chains only obstructed her power as well, leaving her to the mercy of the Holy Knight in front of her.

Wordlessly, he brought the golden goblet closer to lips, but getting her to drink would be a chore. Not only was she fighting his grip in her hair, her lips were sealed tight. Snarling, he growled, "Drink."

Still, she fought.

He pushed the cup against her lip line even harder. "I said drink, you worthless bitch."

But, she refused.

Already tired of her struggle, he barked at his comrades. "You, hold her head still. You, keep her jaw open."

"But sir, what if she bites-"

"That's the least of your worries. Hold. Her. Mouth. Open!" He snarled at the disobedient subordinate.

With much force, the one locked her head in his arms and the other pried her jaw open, leaving it prey to the blackened contents of the goblet. No matter how hard she struggled, it didn't match the force of the captors. She was just too weak.

Slowly, the chalice tipped over. She watched with fearful eyes as the dark sludge fell in chunks from the golden cup; and, poured right down her throat.

And suddenly, she screamed.

Her three captors sprang far from her, backs to the the walls as let loose her pain. Tears poured from her wide eyes, shrill screams tearing apart her throat and the black goo spilling from the corners of her mouth.

But it was too late.

It was inside her. An infection dominating her systems and clawing her apart. It wormed it's way into her blood, attacking the purity of it and ruining it with its wretchedness. It infested her veins, coloring them black. Soon, the dark shade crawled to the surface of her skin, webbing across her once tan body. One might confuse her for a porcelain doll that had been dropped one too many times, that is, it the person was deaf and had poor eyesight.

With each passing second, the pain worsened and she felt like her skin was bubbling. The chains began to melt, the enchanted metal dripping off her body and onto the floor.

Thudding onto the stone floor, she began to convulse. Her eyes rolling into the back of her head as fell apart from the inside out. The screaming had ceased, now replaced with bloody chokes.

She twisted to her side, a dark aura beginning to glow from her paled skin. It enveloped her shape before expanding slowly.

She arched off the ground, mouth open in a silent scream as the pain ascended closer to its climax. It made her eyes burn with bloody tears and her skin to crack apart.

What would he think?

The aura expanded further and further, swallowing her figure and dominating half the room. It fed off her agony, growing bigger as her pain worsened.

Soon enough, the aura nearly covered the whole room, barely brushing the Holy Knights' armor. They looked in awed fear at the spectacle before them. Never had they seen such a transformation of this magnitude. Yes, every transition was different, but this was by the far the most captivating one yet.

Her body was no longer on the floor. She levitated feet from the ground, eyes still shut tight and mouth open to a muted scream. Memories played once more behind her closed lids, but they swam away as fast as they appeared.

She saw the first time she killed someone, all the blood she'd spilt. She saw the horrid expressions on everyone's faces at her state. She saw the life she ran away from and flew straight into the new she procured.

She saw them all. The day they all met and they accepted her. She saw them sitting around the fire, laughing and smiling at each other. She saw the battles they entered and won, the power each one exerted.

Then she saw him.

A blood-curdling scream ripped through her throat suddenly, the pain becoming unbearable. The aura pulsed once before slamming back into her body with a loud clap. She flung down with force, the stone floor splintering around her.

Then silence.

The Holy Knights remained still, observing her motionless figure with apprehension and curiosity. It was minutes before the Lord moved towards her body, ignoring the protests of his subordinates. Approaching her slowly, he watched her face for signs of consciousness. None appeared, but that didn't mean she wasn't awake to the world.

Her body was healed, all gashes and bruises nonexistent. The skin had meshed itself back together and her complexion was tan once more. One could truly fool her as human, he mused.

As he looked her over, he failed to notice her eyes snapping open. A gasp from his subordinate made him meet her open gaze. The original color missing from her irises. Gone the deep color of brown. Only a black shade remained.

She had successfully transformed.

A sinister smirk took over his face once more, an evil chuckle passing his lips. He'd finally won against the sins.

"Rise," he ordered with his booming voice. "Rise, Kellee, Wolf Sin of Vainglory. Rise into the New Generation!"

And so she did.

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