"Thus wakes the moon, ruler of lands,
The Black Queen inflicted with holes in her hands."
Her heart beats loudly in her chest. Damn him. Damn him to hell!
She begins to clench her fists, then stops as the scorching fire of pain heightens. She tries to ignore the wetness dripping from her fingers, to forget the sight of the black decay now spreading up her wrists. She is running out of time. She is dying. Her hands convulse. Once, twice.
"Soon she will meet the fate that she dreads
promised in black by the words he hath said."
"BE SILENT!" she shrieks, viciously turning on the cloaked figure. A wild cackle bubbles from her lips, which widen into a crazed grin. She points a black finger at him.
"You think you've won! You think I am doomed!" she stumbles toward him, glaring into the void of the hood, "But I will triumph! I will live and you will regret this - this - treason against your queen!"
The hood remains mockingly silent, and her mind vaults back to the past. Back to the Feast of Nights, when her father reigned, when the world had turned awry, when betrayal was revealed. Even now she feels her blood begin to boil at the memory.
Eva - oblivious, naive little Eva! - hadn't taken her hints, hadn't noticed her sister's unrequited love. And so on that horrid Feast of Nights, Eva married the man that should have been hers. And then he had knocked. Once, twice.
"The moon! The moon! with a black wicked sheen,
Has--"
The Black Queen lets out a screech of fury, curling her fingers into the blood of her palms, the pain unheeded as emotions welled. The cloaked figure shifts and takes one step forward.
"What!?" her voice snaps. Then she chides herself. Control is vital.
He lifts a sleeve, motioning to the full moon that would soon be immersed in red. His age-old voice resonates, exploding through her conscience, reminding her of that stormy night five years prior:
"All power forbidden will now be yours
For five years hence, through peace and wars."
The howl sounds, its cry reverberating through the forest. The cloak turns toward her, almost seeming to shake his head. She snarls.
"You've left me no choice - this is the only way. Her death is miniscule, insignificant to this world. With her gone, he will see that, and he will come to me."
The Black Queen waits. No answer.
"But if he holds no love within,
Ten-fold be suffered for this sin."
She shudders as the words dispersed, and quickly shook off the mounting dread. And then she hears it once more. His howl.
It has begun.
She raises a bleeding hand to smooth the black wisps from her face, then stops, annoyed. She will not allow her beauty, once praised by many, to be marred by blood.
She lets her hand fall, its mutilated mass dropping like a numb weight. Casting spells is impossible now - but that is inconsequential. She smiles. The wolf is already blinded by her dark magic. She quietly turns and approaches the cloaked figure, the rustle of her silk gown gliding over the marble floor of the palace. Then she holds out her mangled hands.
The cloaked figure stares at her, and she growls.
"Since you have begun the pains of your retribution so early, I cannot transport myself. Now that duty falls on you - unless you do not want to see the finale of our story?" her voice drips with sarcasm.
YOU ARE READING
Murder of the Sun
Short Story"What are you doing here at night?" he whispered. Her breath caught in her throat. The urge to run, the instinct to scream--everything seemed to freeze as his golden eyes pierced through hers... One death seems insignificant to a world of troubles...
