"Father-" Morgana's voice choked, staring up at the man before her. He towered over his daughter, faced shadowed with merciless darkness.

The gold glow of his eyes pierced right where her soul was. Where her soul should be.

This wasn't her father. He never was. He was just the man - not a man, more akin to a horrible demon made to torture her - she'd gone to in desperation when she was six. He'd made her a warrior, made her able to finally defend herself. But at the cost of human life and her soul.

And she wasn't the only one. She was one of seven. His seven little warriors. Seven children that he'd ruined the lives of. And she was the oldest of these siblings.

So, she'd taken it on to be their protector. Be their guide, and the one to show them anything other than the cruel rage their "father" had displayed. They were the only good part about this all.

She'd even say she loved them. But the demon who oversaw her would see that as weakness.

That's what was happening. Kil had seen weakness and he was there to purge it.

That weakness?

His eldest "daughter" gently was rocking her brother Alasair after he woke up from the nightmares that often plagued him. The boy was the third youngest, only thirteen and suffering too much. So, she'd held him and shushed him, trying to keep the faint sobs quiet.

But Kil heard anyway.

And before Morgana knew what was happening, Alastair was being snatched from her arms and she scrambled to her feet. The demon's nails dug into his skin, drawing a cry of pain and he struggled to escape.

Morgana only stared in horror for a moment, her whole body frozen. How immature... thirteen years being trained to kill, and she froze when her brother was in danger.

She knew Kil would kill Alastair if she didn't do anything, so why was she just standing there?!

"Father please!" Morgana screamed, approaching the monster before her.

Kil's glare was merciless, his giant claw wrapping tighter around Alastair's chest. He screamed again, his dark gray eyes shutting tightly as he gasped for air.

"You'll kill him!" Morgana pleaded, clasping her hands.

"If he dies, he was unworthy to begin with." Kil growled, voice gravelly and low.

She could almost cry, staring at Alastair- his face turning pale as the skin around his torso was broken.

"Please... Father, I'm begging you... don't do this..." Her voice became weak, broken into hurt.

Silence. Cruel silence.

Morgana let go of whatever dignity she had clung to and dropped to her knees. She groveled before him, tears now flooding her eyes.

"Don't kill my brother... I'll do anything you say. I won't fight you, just don't kill him..."

With a faint scoff, Kil released his grip on Alastair. The boy dropped down to the ground and stayed there, gasping for breath and crying in pain.

Morgana rushed to his side and pulled him closer.

"Brother...?" His voice was soft and faint. A question that was warm but painful.