• I was sixteen years when I was engaged to Raamses Nikolai. A forty-three old man, with enough ties to the police, everything he did was either swept under the rug or seen as a godsend. With hair as gray as a nickel, and a lecherous grin that could put perverts across the nation to shame, Raamses snuck in blood diamonds. From owning the town's largest diamond factory, and a sweat shop with underage workers (8-16) this man was due to be struck by lightning.

    And my mother, Dyllis Vasos, wanted nothing more than his money. He wanted a young girl to bear his children, to give him a heir. They came to an arrangement, my mother would allow Raamses to marry me when I came of age, and she would put into the will for fifteen percent of his money.

    I was only five when they had made this arrangement. It was from then on mother made sure I, Lorelle Vasos, was mentored in the art of being the perfect housewife. Mother was never able to bear anymore children after I was born. Her repoductive system had become too damaged from giving birth. It was unavoidable. Mother said it had been my fault everything in her life was messed up. That I owed her.

    I knew better, Ebony, my nanny, always made sure I did. See mother use to be a ballet dancer, a very well known dancer in Russia. Critics said she was the Beyonce of her generation. A particular critic took notice of my mother's potential, and did his best to push her by critizing her instead of praising her. Though it frustrated mother to no end, it indeed allowed her passion to flow and be seen in her performances. And one day, by chance, the two met, at a coffee shop. You could say it was love at first sight, but you'd be damnable liar. They were complete opposites in every aspect. In careers, personalities, even in food choices. And it took eight months, twenty-three dates, and over fifty critisms from him to get my mother to admit she had feelings for my father, Riccardo Vasos, the particular critic. Mother never liked talking about father. Always said he had just up and left, probably to another family. Ebony said father was to kind for that. But said nothing else .

    Oh Ebony. Ebony Venazeula was there for me, more than mother ever was. I loved her so much. She helped me run away that night. She woke me up at twelve o' four, and whispered, "Its time to go little one."

    Maybe thats where I went wrong, thinking I could run away from my problems. Maybe I should have stayed, and gotten married to, shiver, to Raamses. But my life would have been hell. Well I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I?

    That night, it was raining, like it was a sign, an omen even. Ebony had a prepacked duffelbag, with a few pair of clothes, my art supplies, and journels in one hand, and me in the other. We got into a car, one of those hand-me-down buggies, and we drove into the night. The man driving the car looked as if he had been up for days, only running on cups and cups of coffee with his hair messed, and bags under his eyes, even though they were wide open. I never got to ask for his name. He was speaking to Ebony in what sounded like Spanish, but I couldn't tell with how anxious I was feeling.

    I tried to calm down, but there was something about leaving the house I have lived in my whole life abruptly, the speed they were going, and how the rain felt like it wasn't going to be letting up anytime soon. Ebony must have sensed my uneasiness, because she squeezed my hand. I wanted to squeeze back, to let her know that it was going to be okay. We were going to be okay, and I was thankful.

    But I couldnt.

    Not because I didn't want to.

    But because I never got the chance to.

    Something made the back wheel's brakes give out. And the buggie couldn't handle the sudden loss of movement, and skidded across the pavement. It happened so quickly and suddenly, the man's head hit his side of the window. The glass shattered, and pierced his neck. The blood splattered across the windshield, and he started convulsing. If only he had died instantly. I wouldn't have devolped a high aversion for blood. What did they calll it? Hematophobia.

    And Ebony. Oh my savior, what did she do deserve to that? Why couldn't it have been me instead? She wasn't wearing her seatbelt, and she went flying through the windshield, glass and all. As my own head rocked between the front and back seat, I could only think she couldn't have survived that. Newton's first law of physics states an object in motion, stays in motion unless acted upon by an outside force.

    For some reason, the car did not apply to this law. The car stopped moving completely. And the only reason why I knew it had stopped was because it felt like my body wasn't spinning but just my head.

    Maybe that was my second mistake, not questioning the logic of the whole situation. When my head finally stopped spinning, and I was able to gain coordination of my body, I got out of the car. I tried not to notice the man's occasional quivers, still spitting out blood.

    I looked for Ebony, and I nearly gave up, until I saw her a bit a ways down the street. She had went so far, and it didn't even look like she was breathing. I limped my way over to her, trying to get to her as quickly as possible. But the spinning in my head never went away completely. And the feeling of lead filling my legs was increasing by the minute. It seemed like hours before I finally reached her. I could barely recognize her, with all the glass stuck all in her. There was so much blood, the white apron she had been wearing had been soaked till it looked pink.

    Dropping to my knees, I crawled to her side, looking to see if I could hear her heartbeat. The faintest of ba-thumps reached my ears, and I didn't even have enough energy to show my joy. I moved to put her head in my lap. It wasn't till she stirred did I see how much pain my nanny was in.

    Have you ever had trouble distinguishing the rain from tears? I did before that night. It felt like I could see her tears so clearly. I don't even know how she had the strength to lift her arm, she was shaking so badly. She placed her hand on my cheek, stroking it softly, as her beautiful, hazel nut eyes started to dim, with a smile of sorrow. She whispered the only word she has been telling me my whole life.


    And maybe that's where I had made my last mistake of the night; wishing for her to come back, for some goddamn way to make me take her place. Because as I craddled her now limp hand in my face and cried, she came. Aries.

    "Sweet pea. It's time to go home." She said in a gentle voice.

    "But- I can't- I can't just leave her. What'll I do without her?" I heard her crouch down next to me, and put her hand on my arm.

    "You'll come with me, and I'll make sure Ebony will be fine." I lifted my head slowly, not wondering how this girl knew my nanny's name, still clutching her hand, and turned towards the girl.

    With hair that could burn if accidentally rubbed against, eyes that sparkled a jade green from years of perfecting her deviousness, and a smile that made, no forced me to trust her. The sense of security I gained as her soft smile widened, clouded the aura of evil she had been permitting the minute she stepped onto mother nature's ground.

    The better part of my judgement was screaming at me, telling me to run. But I didn't listen as she moved Ebony's hand from mine, slipping her own fingers in place, and motioned for me to stand.

    As my surrondings melted from the dreary landscape of the world, into the fiery pits of the underworld, Lorelle Vasos was left behind as well. And Teer Taliposa was born, or to be exact, reignited. To be honest, it didn't burn as much as I had imagined it to. Or am I just too masochistic to know the difference? Oh well.

    Who am I? I am the reincarnated daughter of Baalberith and Ipos. I have the ability to fortell the future. Anger me enough, and I could destroy your ties to your family and friends faster than you could beg for mercy. And I will be taking my father's place as Chief Secretary to Satan.

    My bestfriends are Aries, Satan's Daughter, Asuma Kyoko, Ward to Aries' prisoners, and Azurah, The Judge of Souls.