* ᵐᵉʳᶜᶦˡᵉˢˢ 𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓.

nothing was quite the same for rema after that day, at just the mere age of 10 years old. she was still a child, (a child with no parents to cry out for) and yet now she found herself treated akin to an animal confined to the cold, cruel walls of a laboratory. she was to be watched at all hours of the day, monitored and examined; mentally, emotionally, physically. anything to keep an eye on the sudden, violent changes that seemed to be the norm for this sort of thing. it had been documented in many historical documents locked away for the seraphic accord's eyes of course, rema is certainly not the first to undergo the crucible curse's affliction, however her's was the most violent. no one had eaten another member of the church the way she did. the priests and cardinals grew too comfortable with their safety measures for the day of awaited awakening, so perhaps that is why in the days, months, years even ... they'd come to excude such levels of caution that some may call it fear. (how pathetic it is to walk on eggshells around a mere child.)

she was already a shy and reserved child before everything happened, but now rema had shifted into a something of a recluse. an animal frightened of her handler's after a terrible accident. she'd sit in the darkened corners of her room with her knees held tightly to her chest. staring at the wall for hours in silence, dissociating, because this silence appeared to be her new norm. she'd not speak outloud for nearly one year prior to the incident. almost entirely mute. with professionals she would communicate with nods or shakes of her head, with 'yes' or 'no' flashcards, though to herself ? you could tell the wheels weren't completely dormant in her brain. she was listening to something, communicating with this newfound creature sinking its unholy roots into muscle, blood, bone ... an invasive plant not belonging to this fraglie ecosystem, yet stays and remains anyways, albeit weakened by the large mapping of holy runes now branded into rema's back. they were learning each other. sizing each other up to gauge just how strong their individual controls are. "  I'M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU MY NAME,  " it tells her, continues to do so even in present day. "  YOU WON'T NEED IT. I'LL DEVOUR YOUR SOUL QUICKLY LIKE THE ONE'S BEFORE YOU.  "

an entity born arrogance and pride undoubtably, soon to be proven wrong entirely, for the day this thing shall destroy rema from the inside out has yet to truly arrive. this cycle will end with her.

as days progress, turning into months and months turning into multiple years, rema would begin to finally show signs of improvement and adjustment. some days worse than others, and her attitude becoming sharp like a blade fresh of the whetstone, (much to the dismay of her future tutors — they weren't used to such intense stubbornness and increasing abrasiveness. definitely not fond of the swearing) but the good seemed be outweighing the immense blanketing of darkness in a flickering light of hope. she'd be taught combat when deemed ready: hand-to-hand, ultimately upgraded to weaponry via holy bladed scythe she'd come to name OBSCURA, then quickly climbing the accord's ranks to general. to this day rema is still monitored for signs of change despite her infinite amount of defiance and dislike. she always will be for as long as she continues to live.