"Razenshia," a soft voice called out, a chillingly amused edge in his voice. Fighting against the excruciating pain rippling through my body, I weakly lifted my head from the cold examination table. A man stood at the side of the table. His features obscured by the blinding light above me. His body shook with insanity, laughter as he rose both arms high in the air. "Oh Razenshia, my angel. You are the one who will end God's hateful reign upon this world he has forsaken."

Tears pricked at the corners of my narrowing eyes. Even though I had long thrown away my trust in God, I couldn't stop my arm from weakly reaching up towards the light in a vein hope of being saved. Darkness engulfed my pleading mind.

The sound of muffled cries of pain shatters the darkness of sleep's cruel embrace. Wearily fluttering my eyes open, I find myself staring at a faded carousel of painted animals adorning the white ceiling above me. Confusion engulfs my mind as my eyes wonder the childish room in my tired stupor in an attempt to clear the haze of sleep from my mind. The room I lay in, only illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight, is filled with stuffed animals and toys. It isn't until my eyes fall upon the unfamiliar reflection in the mirror that the pieces of my memory fall into place.

Gleaming, golden orbs stare back at me with unveiled disappointment. "And, I'm still in this body. Wonderful." My words annoyingly come out as intangible babbles, only adding to the surrealism of my situation. It's only been says since I found myself breathing my last breath, losing the luster of life from my eyes. I had accepted my early death with reluctance, having only lived a little over twenty-years. Who knew I would open my eyes again, this time in the body of an infant in the Victorian era. With odd topaz eyes and a tuft of silver tresses, I can only wistfully long for my normal life. Despite being born only days ago, my mother's hatred for me is painfully apparent. The ghost of her hands wrapping around my neck still lingers as I recount the many times she would stroll into my room with eyes deliriously shaking, murderous intent obvious in her glare. Each attempt has been thwarted by the servants who have been keeping an eye on their crazed mistress. As for my father, there's not much to say. My interaction with him up to this point is limited to the time of my birth. The minute he saw me, his eyes morphed from weary discontent to utter disgust. The only words he uttered to me were: "What kind of fucked up mister are you. I can't even sell you as a slave like the other girls." Rude.

I'm ripped away from my bitter memories as my door flings open, the hyperventilating figure of my mother bursting into my room. Her quivering eyes fall upon my still form. Stalking over to my unmoving body, she lets out a menacing crackle. "If I'm going to die," she gasps, her hands reaching out towards my neck, "I'm going to drag you to hell with me, you monster!" Wearily, I simply stared at the woman with uncaring eyes as her hands inched closer.

I classify myself as an opportunist, someone who will take advantage of any opportunity to the best of my abilities at all times. Therefore, I would rather not die again. The problem lies in the fact that I, in no way, can defend myself nor would this woman care to think sensibly.

Just as her hands wrap around my frail neck, a deafening gunshot rings through my room. My mother jerks away from me in favor of cradling her bleeding shoulder as she screeches out in agony. Standing behind her, shadows dance upon the faces of two figures. With a gun pointing at my mother and smoke steaming out of the silver barrel, a young boy stands with a single blue eye narrowed into a blazing glare. Behind him, a taller man draped in an immaculate tailcoat and amber eyes gleaming with amusement simply stares at the scene unfolding before him.

"Damn Queen's dog!" my mother hisses, venom dripping from each word. The boy seems to straighten his back with pride at her words.

"You and your husband have troubled the queen with your disgusting human auctioning. As the head of the Phantomhive family, I will kill anyone who causes the queen concern." With his hold declaration, the young boy again fires his gun, this time ending her rasps for mercy. The silence of the night returns as her limp body falls onto the floor with a heavy thud.

I realize that the normal response at this moment would be to cry with mournful sorrow at the death of my mother. However, after being threatened with death time after time by this woman, it's a bit difficult to summon any sympathy for her. Rather, I can't help but to a bit curious of the two figures.

Turning their attention to me, the boy and man gaze at me with cold eyes. I stared back at the young boy with pity, his one eye dimmed by the troubles no child should carry upon their shoulder. Perhaps seeing the superficial condolences in my eyes, the boy snarls as he pressed the warm barrel against my head. A small sigh of acceptance escapes my tiny lips as I watch the boy with unfazed eyes. The boys eye grows wide at my sigh, his mouth slightly parting with surprise. Glancing over at the man behind him, I can see intrigue pooling in his amber eyes as they flash an inhuman magenta.

Now, as I have stated, I am in no way dumb enough to take my second chance at life lightly. However, I also have little to lose, no loved ones to assets to my name. Therefore, dying now would be much better than losing everything later. And again, any resistance will only annoy the temperamental boy to end my life faster. I am not so naive to think that I'll be spared, the goal of their visit obvious. Why would they let the child of their targets live?

Therefore, it was my turn to gape with shock as the gun at my head is taken away. My eyes again settle on the boy as he tucked his gun away in his coat. "Sebastian. What is she?"

The man called Sebastian gazed at me with elated eyes, a sinister amusement laced within the pools of amber as he answered the boy. "Well she's mostly human but I can sense a small bit of her aura is out of place, though I'm unsure why that is." The boy was silent as he took in Sebastian's words, his eyes never leaving my own.

"Kid, if I could talk, I'd give you a lesson on DNA mutations and how proteins decide your physical appearance. Auras don't exist. Science does though." I silently snort at the two, earning their attention once more.

"What-" the boy pauses for a moment, biting his lip as he listens to his conflict inner thoughts validate their points. "What is her name?"

"It seems that she was named Rika Welter." Wow, I didn't know that those good-for-nothing parents even gave me a name. The boy nods and gently lifts me from my wooden prison. His grasp on my body is so soft, I worry he might drop me as he holds me in his hands, almost afraid to bring me any closer.

"She will now be known as Rika Michaelis." Surprise captures Sebastian's expression for a brief moment before it morphed into intrigue. "This is an order: you will raise this child under the pretense that she is your daughter that your wife left you after her death. This will allow us to monitor her until we learn what she is, as well as keep away those pesky women who keep coming."

I bite back a bark of laughter as the last part of the boys reasoning while breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. I suppose this second life won't be as bad as I thought. Taking a dramatic bow on one knee, Sebastian smiled a devilish smile.

"Yes, my lord."