the blood queen
I will burn until only flesh and bone are left, the products of my ambition standing right before me, looking me in the eye. The fire will burn, consume, and bring agony—but in its leftovers, from its burnt ashes, a monster is born. One with ambiguous morals. One with the mightiest power of all: the ability to have nothing left to lose.
In it, tears of blood-magma will form and seal every last bit of weak, feeble compassion. For what is a human with no heart called?
Thousands screaming a familiar chant in controlled unison. Thousands willing to die at my beck and command—the brave eyes of undying devotion screaming for acknowledgment, desperate to be seen. Power radiating from my mere fingertips. Penalty is death to those who question the queen: me!
A stern, guilt-stricken face, sensing the sharp smell of blood, awaits in small fleeting moments. A city will fall today, and many will grieve—but many more will be left in the ashes.
Death is the only freedom I can grant—one last act of mercy, until the poison dulls all senses left. They may say I was cruel, old, wicked... but I say I was necessary. What use is an army with no leader? What use is a kingdom with no king?
I was queen. I was everything. A woman, too—but still, I was a woman named Queen. A monarch. A monster. A madman. But who could dare defy me? To even question my devilish demands would cost you a head. So many chose to be sorry instead of saint.
Saints and heroes aren’t remembered. No one remembers the good, because the stains of the bad are too overpowering.
The evil, however—their stories are told. Songs are chanted. Myths are made to scare children to sleep. I’d rather be feared than loved. With these hands, I can give someone the right to live or die. I can do anything. No one can save you—not once you fall down the rabbit hole, Alice.
Sincerely, The Blood Queen
