Mansi's mind replayed the scene again and again for her, allowing her to relive those last horrific moments over and over, until the other part of her finally managed to gain control, shunting that memory aside, the memory of such a selfless act by such a selfish woman. Someone whose life had meant nothing, but in the last moments had made it all worthwhile, had redeemed herself by her sacrifice. Inside her the other being wept at the new memories, memories of terrible bloodshed, war that raged unending for who knew how long? The loss of so much that was pure, good, holy, the punishments inflicted upon the mortals and their protectors for their rebellion.<br/><br/>Yes she had suffered, for she thought of herself as a she as much as any of her kind could be considered male or female. Had not though her mortal charges suffered as much? Their memories had been cut short, so much of what they had known was lost. How could they be blamed for their punishment when their own protectors had failed them?<br/><br/>Memories bagan to boil to the surface of her confused mind. A eing of pure white descending upon her, fiery sword in hand, her own blade held in hers as they clashed. The humans below cowering in fright, some wielding their own weapons and trying to aid their protector. She remembered her blade piercing the chest of her attacker, hearing the words on that dying beings lips, "You will forever regret your rebellion Mazela."<br/><br/>Mazela. The name sparked a barrage of memories, each popping into existance than fading from view. She fought desperately to cling to them, to try and regain some of what she had lost. Slowly some pieces coalescled together, others remained fleeting, beyond her grasp, her mind unable to contain so much.<br/><br/>"Mansi, what is this letter?" Her father asked, looking rather angry. "It says you failed all your classes this semester!"<br/><br/>"Yeah dad, I quit." Mansi answered, shrugging.<br/><br/>"You quit? You QUIT? You know how much that school costs me? Your mother? And you quit?" He screamed, grabbing her arm, yanking her close he raised his other hand. The letter flew from his grasp and the hand descended, slapping hard across her cheek.<br/><br/>Mansi screamed in pain, felt the taste of blood in her mouth, she heard her mother shouting as Mansi fell. She caught herself on her hands, heard her father undoing his belt, looping the leather cord in his hands. "You stupid whore! You waste my money, embarass this family!"<br/><br/>She felt the belt connect with her back, drawing a shriek from her. She heard a scuffle, saw her mother wrestling with her father, watched him throw her into the dining room table, heard him scream for her to go upstair. Mansi watched as she did, then screamed again and again as her father beat her. Her vision became hazy, she next felt herself lifted, thrown bodily onto her family's sofa, heavy hands tearing at the Sari covering her. Heavy hands pawng at her body, pushing her legs open. She batted weakly at the hands, but she had no strength to defend herself. She felt him then, between her legs, pushing himself into her, violating her. She managed to open her eyes a crack, to see who would do this to her. Beaten, abused she croaked out the words, "Father... no..."<br/><br/>Mazela returned to the surface, burying the lifetime of mortal pain. So unlike, yet so similar in feeling to her own. She felt pity for these creatures, admiration for this ones sacrifice. Perhaps they could yet be redeemed, perhaps they all could. Rebellion had been a mistake, that was painfully clear, perhaps there was a path to redemption. There were memories of some religion that spoke of such things. Perhaps there was hope, if not, at least the world could be remade, rebuilt into the paradise that once was. It would take time, but she had all the time in the universe. Now, it was time to experience this world!<br/><br/>Mansi's eyes fluttered open and she looked about, her fingers twitched and drew the attention of a nurse. 'Doctor! Doctor she's awake! She's moving!" she heard a voice cry out. A female voice, the language was so strange yet so familiar, so distant from the perfect language it had once been. A hollow imitation of the glory that was. So many things to set right...<br/><br/>A rush of doctors swarmed about her, men with clipboards in white coats and other strange looking, yet so familiar clothing. While she wondered how she knew the word doctors, her vision blurred and she fell unconscious once more.<br/><br/>"Is she back in a coma doctor?" Sharon asked.<br/><br/>"No, she's just unconscious, her body is responsive to stimuli. She seems to be getting better," the doctor responded. "Let me know if she wakes up again."