Ferocious red eyes, blood splattered lips, dirt-tint white wingsand that time, I was clueless to the truth

of what they are, of what they do, of why they became like that. Because during that time, the scent of the rotting flesh clouded my mind, seeping into my consciousness, taking away my ability to think, completely blocking my judgment of what they are gonna do to my family, of what they did to them. I had no clue of how such violent beauty can ruffle my hair gently; petting me like I am some kind of breakable glass, or how his deadly smirk appeared as a compassionate smile in my vision. I was clueless, oblivious to who he is or how much his existence will affect my whole life of how meeting him brings me into this terror. I can remember everything clearly. The strange, low, and husky voice whispering sweet lies into my ears, of the empty promises of purifying me and protecting me from them, whoever they are. Or how his calloused hands felt like soft silk running through the thick strands of my crimson hair. His scent that seems to be a mixed of blood and cinnamon, making me inhale the dangerous yet tempting aroma. The strange man with white wings and bloody hands that spared my life 10 years ago. The man that I am supposed to meet once again to free me from my state of oblivion. I go by the name of Daphne Letha Avery, 17, and probably one of the youngest kids who survived the attack of the so-called Angels, mutations that was created by the Crotoneia, the rulers of Chaldea. I was from the deserted district of Solace, one of the 7 districts that joined the rebellion and the birthplace of the said savior of the rotten Chaldea, who is now lying 6 feet underneath the ground. Which leaves me in the merciless hand of the Crotoneia who uses us as tamers of the blood-thirsty creatures, publicly offering us to be a meal for these killers without any hesitations. The people from the Crotoneia calls us the singers, people who has the voice to calm and soothe the beast, most of the times ending up dead. We go underneath the wings of our counselors, talented but most of the times, lucky, veterans who survives their lifetime or until they find a suitable apprentice without getting killed by their assigned nightmare. My counselor, Katrina, currently 26, is a woman with fine brown hair which reaches down her waist who is also a really good fighter, probably the reason why shes still alive, and because of her amazing voice that seems to hypnotize you every time she speaks in the right manner. Shes strict and appears to be the mean type but shes actually really caring. She was from the district of Thordoria, and was caught by the Crotoneia when she was 13. Right now, she already tamed Augustus, an angel with blonde hair and green eyes; hes one of the scariest animals when it comes to hunting but he is actually a very sweet boy who used to live from my district who was later on experimented to become of what he is now. Everyone everywhere despises them, even I, but Katrina says that it is needed, and that they suffer more than we do. I refuse to believe her, not really knowing how it hurts them, but she will just shrug off and states that I will understand once I get my partner. Being a singer means that you will become a puppet of the Crotoneia, helping them train and control their weapon, just to save your own life; selfishly leaving out the thoughts of how many innocent people dies because of you. Being a singer drowns you down with guilt, cruelly eating you alive, reminding you that youre also a monster, a part of the abomination that the Crotoneia is spreading, but you cant do anything, because youre you, youre weak, youre pathetic, just like me, just like everyone else from the district of Lone, the place where all saved singers are trained together, only to end up letting your so-called friends die because its wrong to save the weak from their death. But what makes

me feel afraid the most is that I am the sister of the savior, of the man who was destined to free us all. But before I can even continue myself pity Daphne Katrina called, her voice edging with annoyance as she slammed my door open, leaving me in the middle of my thoughts, mouth gaping like a fish. I quickly pulled a ribbon from my front pocket, pulling my hair up into a messy ponytail. Yes, Katrina? I asked, cursing myself because it sounded like some pathetic whimper from a kitten. I heard her sigh and felt her walk towards me. She grabbed my arms and then pulled me down to sit on the edge of my bed, awkwardly pulling the ribbon down. Dont be nervous, Daphne. Im sure that your partner will be easy to tame. And remember not to struggle when they take you, youll be safer that way. And be tough! Remember your name! Its Daphne, okay? It means that youre a poisonous flower, prove it to them she muttered. But we both know that were not the one who will decide about it. The Crotoneia likes to make us suffer, to prove that even though we escaped death, we are still under their power; that is why they make sure to choose a partner that will haunt us forever and ever. Just like Augustus to Katrina, they were lovers from the pastbut before Katrina tamed Augustus, he almost killed her for about 40 times. Since Angels are mutations or some sort, they are never normal, though they can breed and reproduce like human but most of their mates end up dead for no human can handle a hybrid. And thats where the leaders of Crotoneia find their entertainment. They always match the Angels to a human girl, watching them slowly fall in love or sometimes watching them die in pain of being together without love; but no one can do anything, because if not, they will be closer and closer to death after their 5th year in service, with the installed poison in their blood stream. And thats when I understood what Katrina meant by her words on my first day here in district Lone, the pain of being a freak, the pain of not being able to hold the one you love, the pain of killing innocent people, they all carry it on their shoulders, a pain that no one can ease from them, not even us singers. I breathed out a shaky sigh when I felt Katrinas slim fingers tie my hair into a much better version of ponytailnot letting any of the crimson strands flicker away from the ribbon. She then handed me a small glass flask, containing a shimmering teal potion. You will need that she says. I was about to ask her about the contents of the flask when the soldiers entered the room and dragged me away from her. I bit my lips, not even trying to break free, just like what Katrina told me. Before the soldiers completely shut the door, I caught a glimpse of Katrinas faceshe was crying, tears freely streaming down her face as she mouthed me something. Stay alive. And thats when the fear started creeping in. After years of training both physically and mentally, I thought I was ready, but no, I was wrong, I was never ready to face the wrath of the Crotoneia. I closed my eyes then quickly inhaled some air as I felt the large doors open, slightly trembling because of the fact that the judgment is about to begin. The sudden urge to throw up startled me; the scent, it was too familiar, too familiar that it disturbs me. I slowly opened my eyes, preparing myself for the bloody angel that the Crotoneia will make me handle, but no, he was not dirty nor bloody. True, he has a scar on his pale chest and some bruises that prove the torture he went through; but what made me feel nauseous

are the red eyes staring at me intently, the eyes of a mad man, the eyes of the angel who spared my life 10 years ago. And I know that the Crotoneias wrath is focused on me, the sister of the suppose-to-be savior, and now the tamer of the red eyes.