The whip landed on her back, but the young woman refused to scream. It didn't matter if she did, or did not scream. Her pathetic excuse for a father didn't care if she cried out in agony.

What was the reason she was being whipped?  The most vile of words she could imagine.  Traditions.

Simple family behaviors where the middle born child was ignored as they grew up turned into traditions over hundreds of years. Those traditions often turned those middle born children into adults that formed no familial bonds, and had no love for the family that scorned them.

Over time, traditions became reinforced, and superstitions formed. Middle born children from wealthy families were often those with talent and drive while the rest were lazy as they were given all the privileges. Those middle born from powerful clans, clans with strong elemental experts as backers, often worked harder than those who were given the resources.

The talented and hard working were resented within the families, and therefore the middle born made their own way, even going so far as to leave the clan. When they grew stronger than their original families, violence often occurred, and the middle born children came to be called the Unloved, or The Accursed.

Dara was this young woman's name, although it had once been Lara. She was once the baby girl in the family, with an elder brother and an elder sister, both a year older, and two years older than herself. When a younger brother was born, and a younger sister, her status in the family fell to that of a servant, or a slave. Lara was the name of a beloved child. Dara was the name given to a middle child, now cursed to be without the love of her parents, and family.

She was being punished for no reason other than she existed.

When Liam Griel snorted, and threw the whip to the side, she knew that he was finished with her. The other servants untied her arms, and left her in a heap at the foot of the post she had been tied to.

She was the cursed child, and no servant would give an inch of their flesh to protect an inch of hers, so they left her there to bleed, and to die if that was her fate.

'Child.' Dara groaned as she laid on her side, her feet and arms had barely any strength left in them.

'Child.' A voice spoke at her ear again.

"Huh?" She whispered in a hoarse voice.

'Is the darkness in your heart strong enough yet?' The soft voice asked. 'Do you hate the way you have been treated?'

"Yes." She whispered.

'In the heart, darkness grows, and hatred sprouts. The Eyeless find strength in the dark. Do you wish for the strength to fight against those who wish you harm?' The voice was soft, but the promises seemed far too strange. Almost like a demon trying to find a home, or a place to invade.

Hatred? Darkness? Eyeless find strength?

"How?" She whispered, her eyes started to open, while those around her frowned. The servants couldn't see who she spoke to, but the hairs on their arms started to rise.

The light of the day was still bright, but even in the direct sun, the light had become subdued, and weakened.

'In your hand, you will find the seed. My child, I have spent all my strength to give you this chance at life.' The voice said weakly.

"Child? Are you my real mom?" Dara dared to ask.

'These foul creatures are not your parents, for as soon as you swallow that seed, you will be my child, and mine alone.' The voice soon sighed as Dara put the seed into her mouth, and swallowed it.

'My child. My beloved daughter. This will be hard for you, but once you assimilate the seed, you will have more power than anyone upon that wretched planet.' The voice breathed a mist into her ear, and sent a chill right inside her head.

'This is my last gift. Instincts that will teach you how to live. Live, my precious daughter. Do not just survive. Take the last of my life energy and live!'

* * *

"What's going on?" Liam said angrily. The peace of his afternoon had been broken as someone started to scream.

For a man like him, this would normally make him smile. A painful scream was something he liked to hear, but this scream sent shivers right down his spine. It wasn't one where a skilled torturer could make the victim screech from the pain of the strike.

This painful scream came right from the core of the person's being.

The servants pointed and moved out of the way. Dara's back had arched as she screamed, and the light of the sun was sucked out of the air in the courtyard, leaving only a thick gloom. As soon as it started, the scream stopped, and Dara's body went limp.

"Hmph. So much for that. Toss her body outside, and let the guards burn the corpse." As he turned, the servants stepped back fearfully. He frowned, and turned around. Dara was on her feet, and on her lips was a creepy looking smile.

Before Liam could say a word, Dara stepped forward. She was ten feet away, but in that single step, she moved like a shadow. Her hand came out, and grasped Liam by the throat.

She grinned as she lifted him off the ground with that one hand. Her mouth mesmerized him, but not from admiration, but terror. Her mouth was filled with long sharp fangs.

"Your right arm is the one you used to use to whip her, right?" Dara said.  If he could have analyzed her words, he would have realized that this was no longer his weak daughter. Before he could answer, which he couldn't as her grip was so strong that he was choking, she reached out with her free hand and clamped down on his wrist.

Liam screeched as the sound of bones breaking was heard. She crushed his wrist, and turned it into bone chips.

Dara dropped him like a bag of sand. He reached for his wrist, to hold it, and glare up at her in hatred. Her grin made him falter, as he finally noticed something.

She had no eyes.

* * *

"Father!" Liam called out in terror as Dara approached him again. Dara grinned again.

"Calling out one of those resident experts, Liam?" She grinned again. "They should already know better. Hm?" She tilted her head, and turned slightly.

"It seems they do not know better." Dara flashed from her spot, and appeared in front of a man who just ran into the area at high speed.

"What in Imera are you?" He asked. Dara grinned.

"Do you not recognize your own flesh and blood?" Dara said. "She could not take the pain of her pathetic father's torture, so my daughter now sleeps peacefully.  I shall act in her stead."

The Queen of the Varra, who had never walked upon Imera before, now used the body of her true daughter to inflict justice upon the strongest in that family.

She opened her as wide as a beast, and sank a dozen razor sharp fangs into the man's neck. She severed not only his throat, but all the arteries and veins were gone in that one clean bite.

Her face grimaced as the foul flavor touched her tongue. She spit the chuck of gore out onto the stone tiles.

'No cannibalism permitted.' A voice was soft on the wind, as if only stating a fact. 'She may have his core.' The Varra Queen knew better than to ignore the voice of the world, as she heard it upon her own sphere, and could easily recognize its gentle call.  It was always gentle at first, until you ignored the call, and forced its hand.

"The gods of this world have placed a restriction on this method of killing. You shall bleed out, and not provide your life force for Dara to heal." The Varra Queen grinned wide. Her fingers turned into claws, drove straight into the dying elder's chest, and pulled out a small stone.

"However, the goddess has given me permission to do this." Dara's face turned serene as the energy was sucked into her hand, and into her body.

"Now I know what my world did not have that my kind needed to thrive."