Walking beneath a lush tapestry of pines, Sephiran is looming in and out of the shadows. All around him the frost is bustling, the spring season bringing new growth, infusing the air in the resinous aroma of pine. In the pines are The Syndicate’s ravens, watching him with their ever-intelligent eyes, analyzing, assessing, contemplating. They’d taken a liking to some of the pups, one of them being his son- but Sephiran didn’t think much of it. They were servants of his kingdom after all. And Sephiran would use them at his disposal.

Approaching a fallen pine, the Sultan moves to leap over the obstacle, intent on continuing his patrol. But before he can reach it, the yowling hiss of a bobcat resonates from inside the hallowed log. He stops out of reflex, lips pulling back into a sneer, a guttural, hostile snarl bellowing through bared fangs. He could kill the bobcat easily, yes- but he found its existence to be… enraging.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Ravana crouched low amidst the underbrush, her caramel fur glowing with its lavender hues under the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy of pines. The scents of spring, as her mother had called it, and the melting frost of the forest surrounded her. The north would never fully lose its chill, but the small patches of new life were hard to ignore. She had been enraptured by the quiet lifelessness of the small rabbit she had been examining. Her ears twitched, picking up the distant sounds of the forest – rustling leaves, bird calls, and then something more distinct.

A snarl.

Her eyes, wide with curiosity and a hint of mischief, flicked toward the source of the commotion. The snarling was followed by a yowling hiss, a sound that sent a thrill through her. Without hesitation, she abandoned her lifeless experiment, her small paws moving swiftly and silently through the brush.

Ravana's heart pounded with excitement as she approached the scene, her sharp eyes catching glimpses of the imposing figure of Sephiran and the frantic movements of something within a fallen pine log. She moved closer, her steps light and deliberate, driven by an insatiable curiosity rather than fear. Peering through the undergrowth, she saw Sephiran standing over the log, his lips curled back in a menacing snarl. Inside the hollowed log, a bobcat hissed and squirmed, its eyes wide with terror. With a sense of eagerness, Ravana emerged from the shadows, her lilac eyes sparkling with dark intrigue. She approached Sephiran boldly, her gaze fixed on the trapped bobcat. What might she see here? She wanted to see something, blood, innards – preferably.

“Sultan.” She called out, her voice carrying a mix of innocence and a growing hunger for the morbid. “What will you do to it? Will you make it suffer?” She was eager to see the consequences of defiance, to understand the depths of the Sultan's power and the suffering he could inflict. It must have ignored the carcasses that littered the borders, the stupid thing. Her tongue flicked out to lick at her lips, claws digging into the ground before her.

Her eyes flicked between Sephiran and the bobcat, anticipation radiating from her small frame. She had no fear of the Sultan, only a burning desire to witness the punishment he would deliver, to see how far the lines of suffering could be pushed.


"Ravana Seraphim Saxe"

Emerald and amethyst eyes were fixated on the hallowed log, intensely focused on his object of interest as he beckoned the bobcat to emerge from its lair. He didn’t notice Ravana emerge from the sidelines, creeping out of the underbrush to boldly approach him amid his confrontation. An ear flicked in her direction, her voice momentarily drawing his attention but he kept his gaze focused on the log, watching as the feline crawled slowly out of its hiding place.

It leaped onto the log, defiantly swiping at him, trying to protect its domain. As is the log did not belong to the Sultan. Another enraged snarl, and Sephiran was lunging at the feline, grabbing it by the neck to violently throw it onto the ground. Right in front of Ravana.

What will you do to it? Will you make it suffer? Her words echoed in his mind, blood dripping from his jowls as he watched the bobcat scramble back to its paws. He’d injured it, but it wasn’t a grievous injury- there was enough fight in it for Sephrain to explore. “Ravana.” He says, deep baritones rumbling from his maw, his intense, manic gaze shifting to the small girl. “Will you make it suffer?” A question and a command, paws shuffling beneath him as the Sultan took a step back. Forcing Ravana into the crosshairs of the bobcats fury.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Ravana's eyes gleamed with dark delight as she watched Sephiran's brutal display. The sight of the bobcat being thrown in front of her, its body twisting in pain, sent a thrill through her. The fool. It chose to defy the sultan, defy a creature so much bigger than it more so! She stepped closer, her small form radiating an eerie calm and thrill; the two emotions existing within her equally. Her fur did not bristle, no, instead her dagger fangs flashed, eyes wild. The trial laid before her, what daughter would not obey her father’s whims?

Her ears twitched at his words, a swish of her tail behind her caramel frame. “Oh. I will.” She replied, her voice a mix of innocence and malevolence. It sounded sweet, but the malice within, the obsessive nature that blazed to life in her lavender eyes betrayed her true colors. Her eyes locked onto the bobcat, now a helpless victim caught with no escape. Ravana's paws flexed, claws gleaming as they met the ground. This violent girl, coming to life at the challenge before her.

She moved around the injured creature, her gaze never wavering. The bobcat's hiss and attempt to lunge at her were met with a swift sidestep and adjustment. It was injured enough to not have proper balance, a fact she took full advantage of. Her lilac eyes flickered to Sephiran for a moment, a sly grin spreading across her face. “So silly. You came to a place when you are prey, not predator.” She purred in her girlish way. She advanced on the bobcat, her claws extending, ready to test the limits of its endurance and her own fascination with suffering.

She lashed out, her claws raking across the bobcat's side, drawing fresh blood. The feline's yowl of pain was music to her ears, fueling her dark curiosity of this new prey. With its new cries and fear-scent to record. Ravana’s eyes danced with morbid fascination as she prepared for the next strike, eager to see how far the line of suffering could be pushed. Maybe it would attack her in full, draw her blood in a way none ever had. She found herself wishing for it, eager to experience the sting of pain.


ravana

That manic, frenzied gleam in Ravana’s eyes. The way she lunged into the fray, unwilling to bend in the face of fear, enthralled by the delight of bloodshed and gore. Sephiran would never admit it aloud, but her display of violence, her yearning to satisfy and indulge…. It made him… proud? He’d never felt this emotion before, not to this degree. But he was also spiting the universe for making her a female- it had condemned her to a life of injustice. Even at her young age, she was showing signs of promise- her traits aligning with those of a merciless, and successful Saxe Sultan.

Sephiran could only hope that his two sons would follow in her paw steps soon. Or they might see the rise of a Sultana- the first in several generations.

These thoughts are racing through his mind as he watches her, savoring the scent of fresh blood in the air. She’s almost dancing with it, taking her time and savoring each and every blow. The morbid fascination in her eyes is on par with his- his gaze alit with twisted delight. This is a moment of perverse joy for him, a perverse indulgence in the suffering of others. Even if his daughter is the one inflicting the pain.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Ravana felt a surge of exhilaration as she plunged into the chaos, driven by an unyielding hunger for carnage. She reveled in the crimson splatters, the symphony of agony and despair that surrounded her. Her fur stood on end, a dark cloak of primal energy enveloping her lithe form. Each movement was precise, her muscles coiling and uncoiling with an eerie elegance, the sinister dance of a predator in her element. She could sense the Sultan’s eyes on her, a silent approval that fueled her fervor. The universe may have deemed her unworthy by birthright, but she would carve her own path through the blood and bones of those who dared underestimate her.

A slash with claws, and snap with jaws. She continued her fight with the bobcat. Her form moved with youthful grace, each strike a calculated one of brutality. She relished the visceral connection to her prey, the tactile feedback of flesh yielding beneath her claws. Her tail lashed with excitement, and her ears were perked, capturing every whimper and hiss from the bobcat. Ravana's eyes, wild with morbid curiosity, never wavered from the suffering she inflicted, her heart pounding with dark satisfaction.

She knew she was different, a paradox of innocence and malevolence. Her lips curled into a sinister smile, revealing her dagger-like fangs glistening with fresh blood. She glimpsed Sephiran's pride in her actions, a rare and twisted bond forged in the crucible of violence. Ravana would not be constrained by tradition or gender; she would rise above, a force to be reckoned with, leaving a trail of blood and terror in her wake.

Every howl of pain, every drop of blood, was a testament to her power, a promise of the relentless dominion she would one day claim. She danced on the edge of madness, her father's silent approval a potent elixir that spurred her to greater heights of savagery. She desired to prove she had his blood. Ravana would not be denied her place in the annals of their clan's history, a… Sultana born of chaos and cruelty.

With a swift, calculated movement, Ravana circled the bobcat, her eyes locked onto its every twitch and tremble. The bobcat attempted to rise, its wounded side causing it to stumble and collapse back to the ground. Ravana's heart raced with a dark joy, her claws flexing as she prepared to strike again.

"Poor Thing." She taunted, her voice a chilling blend of sweetness and malice. "Did you think you stood a chance?"

She lunged forward, her claws sinking into the bobcat's other side, raking down with savage precision. The bobcat's yowl of pain was music to her ears, and she watched with morbid fascination as the blood flowed freely. The feline's attempts to retaliate were futile, its weakened state no match for Ravana's relentless assault. She danced around it, her movements fluid and brutalistic, a display of violence and indifference.

The bobcat, in a last-ditch effort, swiped at her, its claws grazing her beautiful cheek. Oh. Ravana hissed in response, feeling the sting of pain mixed with exhilaration. She welcomed it, embraced it, the sensation fueling her ferocity. She leaped onto the bobcat, pinning it down with her weight, her fangs bared in a triumphant snarl.

"You fuck." she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. "You waste."

With a final, brutal bite to the neck and twist, she ended the bobcat's suffering, its body going limp beneath her. Ravana stood over her fallen prey, her chest heaving with exertion, blood staining her fur. She glanced up at Sephiran, her eyes blazing with pride and defiance.

“Sultan. I have slain it for you, what will you make of it?” She declared, her voice carrying the promise. A harsh resolve.


"Ravana Seraphim Saxe"

Slowly, methodically, violently, Ravana etched away at the bobcat, satisfying her hunger for carnage, trying to prove her worth to her Father. Her Sultan. And Sephiran, the grotesque, perverse, monstrosity of a man, was enjoying every second of the bloodshed. Call it a visceral reaction- but the mere sight of blood being spilled, the yowling of the wounded bobcat, the dripping sweat, the musk of pheromones, and the heavy breaths as both participants fought with every ounce of strength they had left. Fuck, it was arousing.

The Sultan shifted his weight from side to side, his grin stretched into a wide, grotesque parody of joy. His eyes glinted with malevolent glee as he reveled in the suffering of the creature, his arousal a sickening sensation, growing and festering within him, begging for release.- But he would not unleash it on his daughter- that thought never crossed his mind. Not yet, at least.

Her voice made his ears twitch, his head cocking to the side, saliva dripping in strings from his greedy maw. He was salivating. She pinned her opponent down, twisting its neck between her jaws- the grand finale of her carnage. She turned to him then, wanting his direction. And the impulsive man would give it to her. “What will I make of it?” He croons, taking a step in her direction, eyes blazing with perverse delight. “No, no, no." His voice seemed harmonious, but the chilling aura surrounding him gave insight into his thoughts. “What will you make of it?” He’s circling her now, looming over her like a shadow. “More,” He croons. “Give. Me. More.” More bloodshed. More insanity. More depravity. He wanted her to proceed with her mutilation of the corpse.

"Sephiran Saxe"

Ravana’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, her body trembling with the aftershocks of the kill. The blood still ran warm beneath her claws, soaking the earth in a dark, sticky pool. Her heart thudded in a rapid cadence, a pulse in perfect rhythm with the violence she had unleashed. The scent of the bobcat’s death, the iron tang of blood, and the acrid musk of desperation still clung to the air, heavy and intoxicating. Every fiber of her being was alight with the thrill of it all, every instinct urging her to sink deeper into flesh and bone. She didn’t care about the how or why.

As Sephiran’s voice slithered into her ears, that oily, honeyed tone laced with twisted satisfaction, Ravana’s fur bristled—not with fear, but with anticipation. His words dripped with expectation, each syllable pulling at the strings of her darkest desires. He demanded more, his eyes glinting with a hunger that mirrored her own, though twisted into something darker, something far more grotesque. Exactly what she herself craved.

She met his gaze with a fierce, unyielding challenge, refusing to flinch beneath the weight of his looming presence. His command resonated within her, stirring the need to continue, to push further into that abyss of depravity. She felt his delight, his pleasure at watching her, and instead of recoiling, she leaned into it. If he wanted a spectacle, she would give him one—a performance. Others liked those, didn’t they?

Ravana’s lips curled back in a feral snarl, revealing dagger teeth still slick with gore. Her gaze dropped back to the lifeless corpse at her feet, the once-arrogant bobcat now reduced to a broken heap of flesh and fur. The Sultan wanted more. She would not disappoint.

With a low, rumbling growl, she set to work, her claws carving deep furrows into the already mangled flesh. She tore and ripped with a fervor that bordered on worship, reveling in the sensation of muscle giving way beneath her touch. Each tear, each fresh spurt of blood a reminder of her triumph, and not a single sinew went unnoticed by her rapturous mind. A bone to carve with small claws, the almost rubbery crush of artery and membranes within her maw. She liked reducing its life, it’s body, to nothing.

She was aware of Sephiran circling her, albeit distantly, for did not waver in her attention to detail. This was as much for herself as it was for him.

When at last she looked up, her fur matted and stained, her eyes gleamed with a wicked satisfaction. The corpse was barely recognizable, an unholy splatter against the cold ground. The girl herself was nearly dyed crimson herself, her face entirely soaked in the coagulating liquid, falling in chunks down her chin and cheeks. But those lilac eyes of hers, they were sparkling and bright – wide with the thrill of her dance with death.

“This,” She rasped, voice thick with exertion and dark glee as she stepped closer to her father. “Is what I will make of it.” She licked the blood from her claws, savoring the metallic tang on her tongue.

"Ravana Seraphim Saxe"

Sephiran craved a performance from the young Ravana- needed to witness the progression of her hunger for carnage and bloodshed, as she bent to the will of her darkest desires. He knew impulsivity dwelled within the twisted souls of the Saxe lineage - the true Saxe lineage- and if she was really his daughter, that obsessive impulse would fester into depravity that needed to be satiated.

Sephiran was no Father figure- he never would be. But in his own, twisted way, he would feed into his children’s desires, instilling a deeply-seated understanding of power and control. The subtly of influence, the unrelenting will to dominate and control. They would become weapons, but would not wield themselves recklessly- but instead, they will move with calculated intent, and will be ruthless in their methods all the same.

That’s how they would differ from their maniacal father.


These thoughts lurk in the catacombs of Sephiran’s mind, welling to the surface before vanishing at a moment's notice. He’s too consumed by his desire to indulge in the pulverizing of the corpse- which Ravana completes in a wicked, delightful manner. When she is done, there is nothing left but an unholy splatter against the ground, the bobcats remains adorning her coat like macabre jewels.

She steps closer to him, and Sephiran stops, craning his head down to bring his face beside her own. His lips crack into a wide, grotesque smirk that exudes his indulgence in this moment of perverse joy. His tongue snakes out of his maw, strings of saliva creating a tapestry between his fangs, before he slides it across Ravana’s gore-coated head. “Delightful.” He hums, his pelt bristling down his spine, muscles growing taught beneath his fur. Like a venomous serpent savoring the agony of its prey.

"Sephiran Saxe"

The bobcat’s remnants clung to her fur, thick and metallic, seeping into her very skin as though binding her to the scene. She drifted closer to Sephiran, irresistibly pulled to his presence, a force neither warm nor paternal, but something far darker and dangerously magnetic. A kinship, perhaps—though she felt no tenderness in it, nothing that tasted of sweetness.

Her eyes flashed at the recognition in his gaze, knowing she had earned his approval, maybe even surpassed his expectations. A tremor of exhilaration surged through her as she felt his predatory eyes roam over the carnage, lingering on each blood-slicked detail with a hunger that reflected her own. She stayed still, every nerve alert, as his tongue swept across her gore-streaked face, leaving a faint trail that felt more like a mark of triumph than anything repulsive. She took it as a reward, an acknowledgment of her worth.

Her lilac eyes glistened wide and feverish, burning with the sinister thrill of her dark baptism beneath his intense, serpentine gaze. “Thank you, Sultan,” she murmured, her voice slipping into a sickly-sweet lilt. “For showing me how to push beyond my limits… to see something far more…. worthwhile.” The excitement crackled through her words, raw and unhinged, as she savored every flicker of his delight. A twisted hunger clawed at her insides, craving his approval, desperate to see him bask in the glory of her savagery, to see him revel in the monster he had helped unleash.

He was like her. No... No. She was like him.

Ravana felt a creeping awareness settle within her, sharper than ever, marking the stark line between her and her siblings—not in the way of blood or the violence they all shared but in the twisted nature of her mind. The thoughts that thrilled her, the things she craved—these were hers alone. Her heart still hammered, not from the fight but from the pure, consuming satisfaction that lay in the ruin at her feet. She stared down at the mangled remains, and a quiet, unsettling truth surfaced: this was fun. Not just thrilling, but deeply, achingly satisfying, in a way that felt... natural. Yes. This was her.

"Ravana Seraphim Saxe"