Saint

## **What makes a monster?**

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*"Most people hear the word 'Saint' and think of her as an enemy, a terrifying voice, sound and person. But, no one wants to ask what made the name Saint, become so bad."*

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In the heart of Mexico, on a fateful March 22nd in 1845, "Saint" came into the world. The room, bathed in a gentle light, bore witness to her first cries, drowned out by the shattering of bottles against the walls. Swiftly, her mother swooped in, cradling the infant and hushing her to stillness. Beyond those walls, a war raged, but within, her father wore the face of a monster. Her mother's gaze lifted, apprehension etched on her features, fearing the threat he posed to their child. Yet, he staggered away, consumed by drink, leaving them alone in the shadow of uncertainty. Two years slipped by, and Saint gained four siblings - Camila, Isabelle, Andre, and Miguel. Time pressed forward, and at the tender age of two, Saint bore witness to a horrifying tableau: intruders, malevolent and uninvited, claimed her mother's life in a brutal act of violence. In desperate haste, her father snatched her away, leaving Mexico behind for the sanctuary of Paris, France. It was here that Saint truly came of age, embraced by a father determined to forge a brighter future, unburdened by their haunted past. Yet, an unsettling air pervaded their new life. Secrets lurked in the shadows, and unexplained wealth flowed freely. One fateful day, her father unveiled his "factory" – a realm teeming with laborers and fervent devotees. Saint found herself captivated, though perturbed by its eccentricity. Her father prophesied that one day, all this would be hers to command. But as the years passed, Saint, like any adolescent, recoiled from the notion of becoming the heir to his dubious empire. She bore witness to the grim realities her father concealed: blood spilled, fortunes pilfered, and the very system corrupted. He became the infamous Saints, a name etched in infamy across Paris. Rejecting all he stood for, Saint fled to the sanctuary of Saint Denis, yearning for a better life. Here, she found solace, freedom, and a love for the vibrant town that cradled her hopes. One fateful day, in the warmth of a quaint coffee shop, destiny intertwined with her gaze, leading her to Ryker Ambrose. He would be the one to light up her life, with just the right hint of cockiness that spoke to her heart. Their years together bloomed into a promise of forever, and she cherished him dearly. Yet, time wore on, and a darkness crept into his soul. Harsh words escaped his lips, a chilling echo of her father, and soon, those blows turned real, shattering the fragile tranquility of their union. In the depths of her terror, she clung to the hope that he might change, that their love could mend what was broken.

In the hush of twilight, when the world seemed to hold its breath, Saint knew. She knew in the marrow of her bones that the time had come. This was the moment she would step forth, her heart pounding in rhythm with the footsteps of destiny. And so, with a courage borne from the depths of her soul, she chose to defy convention, to rewrite the script of their lives. In the tender glow of a Parisian dawn, she knelt before Ryker, her voice steady, eyes alight with determination. The words spilled forth, a declaration that echoed through the ages, a vow to change their world. He, stunned but filled with a quiet reverence, whispered a resounding 'yes' that hung in the air like a promise. Time flowed, swift and inexorable, like a river winding through the heart of their days. And then, on the eve of a momentous day, when the world held its breath once more, Ryker vanished. Panic gripped her, a tempest of fear and worry swirling in the depths of her being. It wasn't a mere gang skirmish that stole him away, she knew. No, this was something deeper, something shrouded in shadows. Her father's name echoed in the caverns of her thoughts, a dark specter lurking on the edges of her mind. In the winding streets of Saint Denis, she sought answers, an unwavering resolve driving her steps. Telegrams flew, reaching out to friends and acquaintances, their replies cruel echoes of her desperation. The walls of the police department held no solace, no sanctuary for her weary heart. They, too, were enshrouded in mysteries, their knowledge as elusive as smoke. Their words were sharp, a bitter sting to her already wounded soul. For days, the world closed in around her, a suffocating darkness threatening to consume her. And then, in the depths of despair, a wail pierced the silence, carrying with it the promise of new life. Her friend, a beacon of light in those shadowed hours, rushed to her side, a lifeline in the tumultuous sea. In trembling arms, Saint cradled her child, a fragile, precious soul named Abby Ambrose. The room seemed to hold its breath, caught in the sacred pause of this moment. And then, as swiftly as a candle snuffed out by an unseen wind, the cries ceased, and the world stood still. Disbelief washed over her, a tidal wave of sorrow crashing against the shores of her heart. Her friend's voice was a distant echo, lost in the cavernous chambers of her despair. Abby had slipped away, a fragile dream never fully realized. The days that followed blurred together, a canvas painted in shades of grief and loss. Each heartbeat echoed with a hollow ache, a symphony of pain that seemed never-ending. Her very essence seemed to fray at the edges, unraveling in the wake of such profound loss. In the months that stretched ahead, Saint descended further down the abyss, seeking refuge in the arms of oblivion. The world became a haze, a tapestry woven with threads of sorrow and blurred edges. It was a life lived on the periphery, a spectral existence adrift in a sea of pain.

## The Beginning of the Saints

Down the twisted alleyways of her existence, Saint was enveloped in a tempest of vices. The very air seemed to hum with a dark energy, pushing her further down a path of self-destruction. Her father, once a looming figure of dread, now stood as a haunting reflection of her own choices. By day's light, she wanted nothing to do with him, but with each passing sunset, the lines between them blurred. In the seedy underbelly of the city, Saint navigated a world of shadows, the taste of sin on her lips. Brothels became her sanctuary, a place where the desperate and damned sought solace. With deft hands, she picked the pockets of unsuspecting souls, hungry for the next score to fuel her insatiable cravings. Yet, in the depths of her darkness, a new revelation dawned. A sinister idea clawed its way to the forefront of her mind - the birth of a gang, a force to be reckoned with. Nights turned into months as she pondered over a name, a moniker that would strike fear into the hearts of those who heard it. One fateful night, after a transaction was sealed in the crimson-tinged halls of a brothel, Saint's reflection in a tarnished mirror bore an eerie resemblance to her father. Anger surged, threatening to shatter the glass, but in that suspended moment, she hesitated. The decision was made. If she was to embrace this dark legacy, then she would wear it proudly, a defiant echo of her father's infamy. Thus, Saint and her gang, The Saints, were born from the crucible of her turbulent soul. At the tender age of 22, she embarked on her mission, a whirlwind of chaos and calculated ruthlessness. Doors splintered, lives overturned, and children were claimed, their futures now bound to hers. Factories and workhouses fell under her dominion, the gears of industry grinding to the beat of her command. In the shadowed alleys of Saint Denis, her name became legend. It was amidst this maelstrom that she encountered two figures destined to leave their mark on her legacy. Rowen Mercier, once a wayfarer in the den of vice, became her willing instrument. Jones Retford, scorched by the flames of fate, emerged from the embers, his loyalty pledged to her cause. Yet, it was one serendipitous encounter that would alter the course of her dark tale. A woman of opulence and allure, Sophia Kiramman, emerged from the opulent tapestry of privilege. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, bore witness to the wealth that adorned her. Intrigued, Saint's watchful eye fell upon her, a chess piece in her ever-evolving game. As the nights unfolded, secrets exchanged in the hidden chambers of their encounters, Saint learned of Sophia's world. The Kiramman Estate, a bastion of wealth and power, opened its doors to her. Sophia, a woman bound by vows of matrimony, became a tantalizing enigma, a puzzle Saint was determined to solve. The tendrils of their entwined fates tightened, drawing them deeper into a dance of shadows and intrigue.

Under the cloak of night, Saint would slip into the Kiramman Estate, a shadow in the moonlight, shielded by the heavy slumber of Sophia's oblivious husband. Sophia's care was a balm to Saint's fractured soul. Generous gifts of money flowed freely, a testament to the depth of their connection. Within the opulent walls of the estate, Saint's keen eyes observed the presence of numerous children. A plan took root, a seed of audacity that whispered of expansion. She would infiltrate this gilded realm and claim her prize - Julia Kiramman and Layla Kiramman, offspring of the formidable Charles Boucher. Under the shroud of night's embrace, she ventured forth, a specter in the darkness, her mission clear. When the deed was done, she signaled her comrades, a silent call to seize the children and secure their fate. As she emerged, blood-stained but resolute, her gaze locked with Sophia's, a reflection of terror mirrored in those wide, searching eyes. Without a word, Sophia fled, her footsteps a panicked cadence in the night. Saint pursued, catching up to her, the weight of their shared secret hanging heavy in the air. In that moment, Sophia's fear struck a chord within Saint. She saw in Sophia's trembling form, the ghost of her mother, a haunting reminder of the choices they both had made. The threat hung unspoken but palpable, an unbreakable bond forged in fear and necessity. Sophia's reluctant agreement was a whispered surrender, a concession to the darkness that threatened to engulf them both. As the days unfurled, Saint played her part, the villain in this twisted tale. Her grip on Sophia tightened, the threat of exposure a constant specter. Yet, amidst the shadows, new figures emerged - Judy and Ezra Kiramman, two souls drawn into Saint's orbit. Judy, the girl with the ravens, a creature of the night in her own right, earned the moniker "Raven" in Saint's world. Ezra, a whirlwind of chaos and mischief, became the endearing "Gremlin." Their presence brought a strange sense of kinship, a reminder that even in darkness, there could be moments of light. Time passed, and Sophia's once warm demeanor grew cold and distant. The demands of Saint's own empire in Saint Denis called, leaving her torn between two worlds. Her vigil over Sophia intensified, her hunger for the children and wealth burning brighter. In a bold move, she returned to the Kiramman Estate, a proposal in hand - adoption papers, a bid to claim the children as her own. Confusion danced in Sophia's eyes, met with a renewed threat, a reminder of the stakes. With a trembling voice, Sophia asked for time, a plea born of desperation. In the dance of shadows and secrets, lust mingled with power, a dangerous concoction that bound them together in a twisted alliance. The lines between savior and tormentor blurred, leaving them both ensnared in a web of their own making.

In the hushed interlude that followed, Saint seized the opportunity, allowing Sophia the time she needed to ponder the adoption papers. Amidst the estate's opulence, however, a watchful eye bore down on her. A sense of unease prickled at the edges of her consciousness, a phantom presence lurking in the shadows.

One moonlit night, returning to her sleeping quarters, she found her world unsettled. Papers were missing, the adoption documents notably absent. Instinct led her to Alasdair and Evelyn's abode, where a pool of lamplight spilled onto the cobbled path. Drawing nearer, she overheard Evelyn's voice, a tremor of urgency lacing her words as she confided in Alasdair. Panic clawed at Saint's chest. What was she to do? The weight of her choices pressed down upon her, a decision crystallizing in her mind. With the dawn came resolution, the chilling finality of her actions guiding her steps. Evelyn, unsuspecting, ventured toward the public market. Swift and ruthless, Saint intercepted her, dragging her into the obscurity of a back alley. There, amidst the veil of darkness, Evelyn met her fate, the echoes of her final moments fading into the night. Returning to The Kiramman Estate, Saint displayed the lifeless form upon the fountain, a stark testament to her wrath. Anguish and anger coursed through her veins, propelling her away from the haunting tableau. From a concealed vantage, she witnessed the aftermath, her eyes locked on Alasdair's pained countenance. The die had been cast, and he departed, his children in tow, leaving behind the haunting memory of their former lives. In the wake of the gruesome act, Saint's conviction held fast. Judy and Ezra remained the focal point of her obsession, their fates inexorably linked to hers. The rift between Sophia and her husband grew, a fracture that would ultimately sever their union. One fateful morning, Saint awoke to find Sophia gone, a void in her place. Panic coursed through her veins, uncertainty a shroud that left her adrift in the sea of her own choices. With no other recourse, Saint returned to Saint Denis, resolute in her mission to expand her empire. Her gang and organization grew, members rallied under her banner, and children found refuge within her ranks. And then, like a specter from the past, her sister Camila emerged, a question mark in the tapestry of Saint's life. Camila's probing questions chipped away at the carefully constructed façade, until one day, pushed to the brink, Saint's hand was forced. Camila's life extinguished in the harsh light of truth, leaving Saint to grapple with the weight of her own actions. Regret gnawed at her, but she knew there could be no other way. The shadows of her past would not yield to inquiry.

Years passed, the world ever-changing, until one serendipitous encounter beside the bank changed everything. A small figure sat there, a puzzle piece from the depths of her memory. As she drew closer, the truth unveiled itself - it was Judy Kiramman, a haunting reminder of the tangled threads that bound them all together.

Time past, she adopted Judy into the Saints and trained Judy over the years. Judy then abandoned Saint. Find out more in Judy Kiramman. She figured out shortly after, Victoria Kiramman, a former member of the Saints convinced Judy to leave for good.

Time went on and Saint continued to terrorize and take over Saint Denis, she continued to haunt Judy and watch Victoria closely, after all the events that transpired after Judy left and her massive killing spree, Victoria came to her one day with documents she felt she might would want. Victoria cut a deal with her and told Saint if she pledged to leave and never come back or see her or Judy again, she would hand over the information and documents she's been waiting to see and hear her whole life. Who really killed her husband. Saint accepted the deal and took the papers, as she rode off from where she met with Victoria, on the back of Rowen's horse. She smiled, knowing that just because she made a promise doesn't mean Victoria and Judy got away with Saint never being around again. She found out that a man of Salvatore Sinclair, killed her husband. A former Saint member back in the old days.

## Ruthless

Now in Ruthless, she's on a mission to find Salvatore Sinclair again and finish what they started, alongside with re-appearing and showing herself again to Victoria and Judy. Saint Denis has only yet to see half of Saint's pure terror and chaos.

The author of "Saint" will be written in a book, and have a whole book on just her alone in the near future. Named "Bleeding Dahlia", "Saint Chronicles" and "The Almighty"

Stay tuned.