Ravana crouched low in the forest clearing, her caramel fur shimmering with her markings of lavender as the sunlight filtered through the canopy above. It was spring now, not winter in which she was born. Her wide, curious eyes, bright and rich in color like lilacs, sparkled with a spark of mischief and dark intrigue. Before her lay a lifeless rabbit, its body limp and still, recently caught in the snare of fate and Ravana's growing ruthlessness.

The young girl studied the rabbit with a fascination that bordered on the macabre, her sharp-witted mind eager to dissect and understand the mysteries of life and death. She tilted her head, examining the delicate creature from different angles, her growing dagger teeth glinting ominously as she smiled a coy, almost wicked grin.

“Little one, littler than me.” She murmured, her voice a soft whisper, more to herself than to the rabbit. “Now you are mine to explore.”

Ravana's nimble paws moved with surprising precision for one so young, parting the rabbit's fur to reveal the pale skin beneath. A slice she had already made with a blade stolen from her mother, Absinth. She pressed gently at first, feeling the texture, the resistance, the slight give. Her fascination deepened as she traced her claws along the rabbit's belly, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

With a deliberate, almost ceremonial motion, she used the knife in her jaws and made a small incision, her breath catching in excitement as she saw the crimson life force that had once animated the rabbit. She watched, enraptured, as the blood welled up, her sharp mind noting the color, the consistency, the way it pooled and trickled down.

“This is your life, right?” She whispered, her voice taking on a reverent tone. “Look at how it flows.”

Her curiosity was boundless, her young mind racing with thoughts of anatomy, of the fragile thread that tied life to this world. She probed deeper, parting flesh and fur, uncovering the secrets hidden within. Her fascination with the rabbit's heart was particularly intense; she stared at the organ with wide eyes, her nose twitching as she sniffed the metallic scent of blood.

Ravana's experiment was not one of mere cruelty; it was a quest for understanding, a dark and twisted form of education all her own.

ravana

Walking near the edge of The Polar Sound, Sephiran is patrolling the borders, his gait purposeful and deliberate as he covers every inch of his domain. Just beyond the entrance to the valley is the Wall, a structure that divides the North from the rest of the continent. Even now The Syndicate's ravens were patrolling that area, keeping tabs on the traffic coming in and out of the North. Multiple eyes scanning the skies, ready to be used at his disposal. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but Absinth’s manipulation of the birds had been very beneficial thus far.

Having finished his patrol, Sephiran instructs his panther to remain near the borders. His falcon immerses itself alongside the raven’s patrols, and his serpent remains loosely wrapped around his neck, slithering through his fur. He’s heading inland now, traveling to his newly claimed domain to complete yet another patrol. The tedious tasks of a Sultan. As he comes around a bend in the forest, he arrives at the outskirts of a large meadow, stopping in the shadows as an interesting scene unfolds before him.

The high-pitched squealing of a rabbit resonates from the clearing, a small, pup-like silhouette hovering over the creature. The smell of blood follows, sweet and metallic in the air, beckoning to the Sultan’s instincts and coaxing him forward. He’s assessing her as he approaches, noting the golden hue of her pelt and amethyst markings. A telltale trait of the Saxe bloodline. Though, he wasn’t sure who this girl belonged too; Elysia recently gave birth to a litter, and with Absinth’s mixed brood, there were too many mouths to feed. Expendable rats consuming his resources. He could hardly walk around without running into a child, and that irritated him.

Stopping behind her, Sephiran looms over the girl, a palpable shift occurring in the atmosphere- as if the air was bending beneath the weight of his presence. He’s commanding her attention, his eyes looking beyond her to see the blade and the rabbit. He doesn’t say anything yet, but his eyes are fixated on her with morbid interest. Will she defy him like the other pup did? Or would she bow before her Sultan. Her reaction would set the tone for the rest of their interaction, as Sephiran could be quite the volatile creature.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Ravana’s ears twitched at the approaching footfalls, her lilac eyes darting up briefly before returning to the task at hand. The scent of the rabbit's blood mingled with the earthy musk of the forest, each breath heightening her senses. She felt the imposing presence behind her, the shift in the air heavy with authority. No need to turn. Father Aresenn? Uncle Caedes? No. This was far more hostile.

“It’s strange.” Her voice was soft, almost musing, as she continued the delicate dissection. Sephiran’s gaze bore into her, but she remained focused, young paws working with surprising precision. “How life can be snuffed out so quickly. It takes so much effort to grow, and then it’s gone.”

She paused, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes with a boldness that belied her youth. Caramel fur and lavender markings caught the light, giving her an ethereal appearance despite the cruelty staining her paws. Her lips curled into a small, knowing smile as she observed the Sultan’s reaction.

“Sultan?” Her tone was impassive, detached, devoid of fear as her nose dipped for a moment. Respect was earned, and he had earned it from her with the intent to kill at her back. “I’m Ravana. The sultan is my sire. The King of this Syndicate.” Her gaze flickered to the blade beside the rabbit, then back to Sephiran, measuring his response. No. Mother said to navigate carefully after Xairo’s incident. But following advice to the letter? Not her style. His eyes. She liked those eyes. Purple and green.

She knew her place in the hierarchy, yet a distinct lack of emotion colored her contemplation of their connection. Ravana’s mind raced with possibilities. Hate her? See her as a nuisance? He could try to kill her. Would she be the rabbit, and he the hunter? Would he cut her up the same?

“Would you like the heart? I can gift it to you. It’s my favorite part.” The moment hung in the balance, his silence pressing down on her, but she remained undaunted. Her eyes, light amethyst stared almost blankly between the rabbit and him; but they weren't truly blank. No. Those eyes, they carried obsession and intensity within. A cold, cruelness that was not quite realized yet. She rose to all four paws, facing him completely, her small stature compared to his setting her heart thudding in her chest. So close to danger. But her question remained the same. Her youthful curiosity and burgeoning ruthlessness were not easily quashed, even by a figure as formidable as Sephiran. Besides, wasn’t that a good present? A heart. A first. Maybe he’d want her’s, too.


ravana

Sephiran’s gaze bore into Ravana's tiny frame, settling on her with a maniacal intensity that demanded acknowledgment. But she was too consumed by her morbid desire to satiate her curiosity, soft musings spilling from her lips as she dissected the rabbit.

Normally, Sephiran would have been enraged by her ignorance. But as he stared down at the child - the youthful embodiment of macabre fascination, a harborer of gruesome intrigue - Sephiran saw a glimpse of himself. His head cocked slightly, memories flashing inside of his mind, a sense of deja-vu washing over him. There was no doubt about it- this one must have been one of his.

Sultan? Sephiran’s ears twitched, eyes widening slightly, portraying an eccentric look of intrigue. But the overwhelming sense of malevolence and power that accompanied him did not fade, his demeanor marked by an air of arrogance and superiority, even in the face of a child.

Ravana. Her name was Ravana, and her sire, was the Sultan. King of The Syndicate. Sephiran’s lips twitched, cracking into a curled, predatory smirk that exuded a cruel satisfaction. "Yes- the Sultan. Your Father." He confirmed, deep baritones splitting the silence between them.

This was a moment of ecstasy for him, an indulgence in his title as King. Though, in the corners of his fragmented mind, was a spark of disappointment. Thus far, this child seemed to share the most similarities to him- but she was a female. And in the Saxe culture, that meant disparity and suffering. As is the way of the Saxe.

Would you like its heart? I can gift it to you. It’s my favorite part.

Sephiran is pulled from his thoughts, his eyes trailing her as she turns to face him. She’s looking up at him with a gleam of obsession and intensity shimmering in her eyes, her little heart pounding in her chest, as she reveled in the danger looming above her.

For several moments, Sephiran is silent, allowing tension to build, until it is thick with the weight of dominance and control. It seemed as if Sephiran would snap at any moment, his volatile nature swirling in the depths of his pupils.

He would finally break the silence and command her. “You may try.” He says, before settling down on his hind end, sitting before her with an expectant look. He wasn’t sure if the girl could successfully harvest the rabbit's heart- she was young, and lacked skill and precision. But perhaps she would surprise him.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Ravana's lilac eyes sparkled with a dark curiosity as she gazed at Sephiran, her pupils dilating as if to drink in every detail of his imposing presence. Despite the formidable shadow he cast, she remained undeterred, almost reveling in the weight of his gaze. Her chest rose and fell steadily, each breath measured but thrilled, a testament to her unflinching nature and anticipation. Her mother had taught her well, after all. She tilted her head slightly, a slow, deliberate movement that revealed her growing intrigue. “Why try when I can succeed?” She said boldly, voice is a chilling blend of confidence and cold detachment; not understanding the challenge – she had offered it to him; why would she say something she couldn't fulfill?

She silently turned back to the rabbit as he seated himself, a slow switch back into utter focus. Her nimble paws moved with an eerie precision, her fingers flexing like an amatuer pianist preparing for a concerto. Her eyes gleamed with a sinister light, her lips curling upward into a smile that spoke of her fascination with the morbid task at hand. She continued her work with as meticulous of care as she could, her young mind focused intently on the delicate process of extracting the rabbit's heart. Child or not, she needn’t be a surgeon to pull out a heart from a dead cadaver.

The incision was already made, and she let the knife drop from her jaw with a soft thud. Her teeth, unnaturally dagger-sharp and glinting in the dim light, took over as she widened the cut. Her small paws pressed down on the ribcage, the bones cracking under the pressure as she made a soft little grunt noise. A hehe leaving her caramel lips as her fluffy tail swished in the air. She pushed past the fragmented bone and slick blood with her nose, her tongue flicking out briefly to wet her lips and taste the claret as she tugged the vital organ into view. So warm. So bittersweet. Sephiran's gaze was like a burning force on her back, a pressure that only spurred her on. Her father was watching! Watching her! He must have been like her, she must have been like him. Even her mother twisted her nose up at her projects at times, despite the affection she showed.

The silence between them was thick, the air crackling with the challenge. It wasn’t about making him proud. Ravana cared about sharing this part of her that not many understood. And even that was a fleeting act of whimsy. She liked when she had an audience, liked when she was someone’s focus. She grasped the knife again, her movements swift and sure as she snipped the tendons and arteries. It wasn't perfect; a spray of blood arced out, splattering her face and chest. She paused, her brows knitting together in brief irritation before a giggle bubbled up from her throat, her laughter light and eerie. Silly rabbit. Revenge was for the living.

Finally, she lifted the small, still-warm heart, her eyes locking onto Sephiran's with a twisted glint as she turned to him. So small, seated before her sire, dropping the heart at his feet. The cold was seeping into her young bones by this point, a shudder wracking her frame; but she was so invested in their interaction that she kept her paws firmly planted. Not wanting to return to the den quite yet. She wasn’t done yet! Not with the rabbit, not with the sultan! “For you, Sultan.” The little girl said, her voice tinged with a mocking sweetness for the poor little heart. Her lips curled into a small, wicked smile as she offered the heart to him, a macabre gift from one budding predator to another fully realized one. The meaning of the gleam in her eyes was clear: Take my heart, Father. Take it, take it!


ravana

Although this pup was young - a mere amateur in the art of anatomy and pathology - she was not discouraged. In fact, she reveled in her inexperience, choosing to learn from this exposure. Her tiny paws moved methodically, shifting through entrails, avoiding the sharp prominences of bone and the acidic cavities of gastric organs.

While she worked, Sephiran did not turn his attention away- he watched her, his gaze burning into her frame, hyper-focused on her performance as he analyzed every move she made. There was no warmth in his eyes- only a calculated, indulgent cruelty that reveled in her desire to cut, to slice, to mutilate until she obtained her prize.

Arteries split, blood splattered, and soon, Ravana was lifting up the heart, presenting it to him like a sacrificial gift, hoping for the mercy of a god. She dropped it at his feet, offering it to him. This was a crucial moment in their development as pup and Father- Sephiran could use it to forge a budding bond between them.

But as his unforgiving, calculating gaze inspected the organ, a look of disapproval slowly worked its way onto his face. He used a paw to swipe the heart away, his eyes locking on her even as it rolled into the underbrush nearby. “Botched and messy.” He hissed, rejecting her offering. Wanting to see his rejection make her squirm.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Ravana’s heart sank, but her gaze never faltered. For a flicker of a moment, disappointment lanced through her, raw and sharp like the blade she’d just wielded. The scattered pieces of her disheartened pride swirled in her mind, yet there was no shame — only a simmering hunger, deep and relentless. She met Sephiran's piercing eyes, unblinking, the faintest tremor of a challenge curling at the edges of her lips. She was boiling, writhing on the inside, but just that.

Her tiny body trembled slightly, whether from the cold or a renewed excitement, she couldn’t say. If anything, his rejection felt like fuel — an icy sting spurring her onward. She relished it, that bitter taste of failure, knowing she would turn it into something greater. “Not good enough…” she murmured, voice soft and laced with a dark lilt, “but soon.” She tilted her head, nose pointed toward where the heart lay half-buried beneath the fallen leaves, a crimson spot in the dark forest floor. Her tail swished, its slow rhythm a promise to herself. The blood on her chest and maw, splattered across her face too—it was all cold and hot at the same time.

“Next time,” she continued, lifting her chin defiantly, “I’ll carve a cleaner prize. One worth a Sultan’s admiration.” She punctuated her words with a soft, eerie laugh that echoed in the silence, like the distant chime of some ghostly bell. Her gaze held a defiance that mingled with twisted devotion — a vow to seize his approval by any means necessary, a promise she had etched within her bones.

Without waiting for his response, she turned back to the rabbit’s remains, intent on dissecting every piece with newfound care, knowing he was watching, and determined to give him no choice but to one day see her worth.

ravana