Fire sparks

Realm of Mortals The soldier slowly waded forward, carefully navigating the c*****e thoroughly coating the valley. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. He repeated the mantra to himself as he pressed forward doing anything but looking at the gore at either of his sides. He hadn’t expected less from the war, but he did expect something different. For five months the royal armies from every kingdom within the realm had gathered society’s most condemnable creatures for a ‘relocation project’ set in motion by the king of Far, Far Away. The early days of the round up had been simple enough; the enemies were caught off guard. Once word of the king’s plans had travelled, the forces of evil did the unthinkable: the entirety of the remaining villains set aside century old feuds to forge a dark army. Under different circumstances the unlikely comradery would have been considered beautiful, had the results not been so hideous.  The king commanded the soldiers to only take prisoners; kill only when absolutely necessary.  He had alluded to other arrangements he had for the villains, but very few people knew the details of those alternative plans. Unfortunately for the king’s men, the dark army had no morals. Their barbaric tendencies were amplified as they defended their own lives. The horrific displays only made the king more sure he'd made the right decision to contain evil once and for all... even as millions of soldiers perished in the wake of the war. Through the devastation, good had reigned almost victorious, save for two evil queens. One had disappeared long ago- before the war had even begun- and was presumed dead. The other hovered in dragon form at the far end of the battle field, her electric green eyes now steadily trained on the last standing soldier. His sword hung loosely from his hand, dragging in the muddied mixture of blood and ash sloshing beneath his feet. He took another wary step forward, his clunky boots betraying his efforts to remain silent- as if it wasn’t too late to go undetected by the beast. As his boot landed he skidded forward slightly before quickly catching himself. A sickening splash of blood rang through the mountains like a dinner bell. With nowhere else to run or hide the soldier assumed a fighting position.  Trembling arms raised his sword and shield as he prepared to die honorably. He had long ago accepted his fate; this meeting was inevitable. He just had to keep her distracted long enough for the Good Fairies to do their part. It’s go time, b***h. A masochistic smile spread across his face. He may be going to hell today, but he wasn’t going alone. The evil queen’s wings beat the air as she shortened the distance between her and the soldier. When she was still a hundred meters away he could feel the gusts of wind her impressive wingspan created. The soldier braced for the blast of fire he had witnessed reduce so many of his comrades and enemies alike to no more than piles of bone and ash. He pinched his eyes shut and whispered a small prayer. The fire did not come. The wind stilled and the earth went deathly silent. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe his prayer was answered. He dared to peak one eye open and was surprised to find he was no longer facing a dragon, but instead the stunning woman in her human form. He fought his eyes to remain on hers, to not trail her impossibly perfect body on full display. Evil can wear many disguises, but a face this beautiful was perhaps the most dangerous. Half a decade had passed before anyone began to suspect someone so outwardly lovely could be so cruel. It was a mistake the world had paid for gravely. She tilted her head at the man, carefully observing the evidence of war splattered across boots... only his boots. His sword was clean, save for the tip he'd lazily allowed to drag on the ground. His hair was perfectly in place. His uniform perfectly pressed and untainted by mud or blood. Her lips curled at the corners, settling somewhere between an animalistic sneer and a wicked grin. The queen stayed silent for a moment too long, waiting for the man to break under her judgment. The soldier swallowed down the urge to flinch or speak as those glowing eyes flared and remained tied to him. The corner of her mouth twitched and her perfectly arched eyebrow raised as she observed the quivering man. “I have to admit, I’m not sure whether to be offended or pleased.” She placed a dainty hand on her bare chest to emphasize her confusion. She tapped a thoughtful finger against her cheek. “A peace offering, perhaps? Or an insult?" The soldier didn’t dare to respond, though he very well knew the answer to her question. She continued to look thoughtfully at him; assess him. He held his fighting stance as he tried with every ounce left of his energy to summon courage that he would not find. “Here you are... the very last soldier on a battle field... hmm... but you're no solider, are you? No... you're just a prissy man playing dress up. Tell me, soldier, where have you been, while all these men laid their lives down?" She scanned his unscratched hands, flawless face, the too clean uniform. "But the uniform is real enough. You've been hiding, then."  The man's face remained expressionless, but she saw annoyance flash in his eyes as she voiced his truth. "And now you dare feel annoyed that your elusion hasn't gone unnoticed? You feel no shame, no remorse," She chuckled humorlessly, "and they say I'm evil. I wonder... what would the king say if he knew the truth about you?" The man blanched, but refused to answer. "A coward's heart beats in your chest! Some good hiding did, just to emerge from the shadows now." Her eyes narrowed.  "Why do you choose to show yourself now? Seeking glory, perhaps? Were you hoping to swoop in at the last minute and defeat the 'evil queen' all on your own?" Something in his eyes flickered, confirming the queen was once again correct about him. Her tongue clicked. "Well, here I am! Come and get me, coward." She opened her arms to either side in challenge, every inch of her body exposed but nothing about her was vulnerable.  The soldier did not move. His eyes stayed glued to hers. She realized he was waiting for something. What, though? "Such a selfish, spineless, coward- even now unwilling to fight your own battles. How could the king ever think men like you would ever stand a chance against me?" He finally took the bait. His mouth twitched at the corner. "You forget I created you, Maeve-" She didn't wait for the rest of what was sure to be a petty speech. Her words sliced through him like quiet knives. "I've never- for even a second- forgotten. And that is precisely why you must die." She’d had long enough to dream of this moment in a million varying scenarios. Excitement flashed in the queen’s eyes before her head tilted towards the sky releasing a cackle that would send shivers down even the most wicked gods' spines. When Maeve's eyes snapped back to the soldier, all traces of amusement- however dark it may have been- had been completely replaced by pure rage. She raised one hand, a long black dress materializing around her. Her other hand raised, a long billowing sleeve dramatically blowing in the wind. No words left her mouth, no trails of magic could be seen flickering from her fingers, but still, the soldier felt something twitch within his stomach. Something sinister twirled in the queen’s glowing eyes that made the soldier’s stomach do a different kind of flip. In a moment of bravery, or perhaps self preservation, the soldier attempted to retreat, but found his courage had come too late. He was paralyzed in place. He fought to move his eyes, but couldn’t tear them from the trance Maeve held them under. Through his terror he found relief, as a sudden flash of glittering sparkles appeared around her raised wrists. She didn’t notice, her mind too focused on her creative plans to end the man's life. The sparks whirled offering glittery hope until shackles formed around the queen’s wrists. As they tightened, she became aware of the restraints. Maeve only briefly observed the cuffs, her eyes quickly tracing the path of the accompanying thick chains to where they seemed to disappear deep within the earth several meters to her rear. She knew this must have been what the soldier had been waiting for... why he'd let her speak for so long uninterrupted. He'd been stalling.  The soldier was surprised to find her simply shrug at the restraints- as if they was nothing more than a mere inconvenience. She gave him a tight smile that he understood to mean, ‘just a moment.’ Maeve stared at the chains briefly before her brows twitched, a slight hint at her irritation. She calmly began whispering foreign words to the shackles, but they remained firmly in place. Rage flashed in her eyes as understanding sunk in- the restraints held more than her body captive. She desperately tugged at the chains, but her efforts were all for not. This was it. Her time of freedom was over. Her eyes slowly moved back to the soldier, who even through paralyzed choking, managed to glare at her in silent answer: 'Gotcha, bitch.' "Let's see how far that cleverness gets you in hell." She growled, hoping that whoever was responsible for her capture was near enough to hear- and smart enough to understand the words were not meant only for the man visible to her. The earth shuddered before crumbling into itself, forming a gaping hole where the chains had been anchored behind her. Gut wrenching cries- plea’s- could be heard from within, but nothing except an unnatural darkness could be seen. The chains that held her so tightly began to tug her towards the gateway. She bent her knees and ground her feet into the slick red earth. She looked back to the soldier. What she found effectively replaced her fury with a violent smile. Her spell had continued to ravage the man. His mysterious accomplices couldn't save him now, and she was going to enjoy this last display of her power before being imprisoned in the king's hell-scape. She'd planned so much more for him... but this would have to do. The man’s eyes bulged from his head as blood vessels visibly burst from within them. A nasty bruise began spreading from his neck to his face. A desperate gurgle slipped from his parted lips before blood dribbled down his chin. The skin on his exposed arms bubbled and blistered before peeling back from the muscle completely. The chains holding her continued to tighten, pulling her through the sludge and towards the oblivion. She fought hard, needing to see the final flicker of life leave the man's eyes. He was so close now... just a few moments longer and she'd accept her fate.  The soldier’s outer shell continued to disintegrate and blood began to ooze through every inch of his pristine armor. Though his body was quickly liquifying, his eyes continued to bore into the queen’s, unable to look away. The queen could feel the silent plea from the man. His eyes screamed ‘help,’ ‘make it stop,’ before finally begging, ‘kill me.’ She revelled in his pain. She’d waited so, so long for this. This was what it had all been for.  As the man's life drew nearer to death, she willed herself to feel the contentedness she'd so long awaited. Instead, she found a new sort of hollowness spreading through her stomach. Maeve tried to sort through the flood of emotions that roiled within her, but the only one she could distinctly name was disappointment. "You deserved worse." The words were a whisper, not that his bleeding ears could have heard them even if the queen had screamed. Finally, the soldier's body completely disintegrated. The queen thought this would bring her peace, but now she only felt empty.  A short, jerking chuckle left her. She continued to stare at where the man had stood. Another, longer chortling sort of laugh erupted from her. And then, an entire fit of horrible, manic, ironic laughter flowed steadily. She yielded to the chains, her body falling clumsily into the muck as she was yanked her into the awaiting Dark Place.  The earth reformed, but the queen’s cackles continued to reverberate off the limestone and dance across the mountains long after she'd disappeared.  *** The Dark Place Maeve’s POV The man had died violently and painfully at my hand, but I was left unsatisfied. Perhaps something slower, crueler would have been more fulfilling, but I'd never know for certain. And to think I'd given up my freedom just to feel disappointed. Who could have predicted that my insatiable hunger for his suffering would ultimately lead to my demise?  C'est la vie, I suppose… The situation at hand was anything but humorous, but my laughter continued. I became vaguely aware that I was no longer descending; no longer shackled. My howls intensified. How tragically poetic had my capture been? The king must be so pleased with himself. I felt air fill my lungs only to fuel the next wave of laughter as I imagined the party King Charming would host tonight. They would dress to the nines, drink decadent wine, and indulge in too much food. They’d celebrate until the men wheezed from too many cigars while the women bloated beneath their corsets.  Fucking pigs. Those people thought themselves so good, so much better than me. How good could they be, though? For months, they’d slaughtered and entrapped tens of thousands of beings. Some of the captives crimes were horrible, sure, but many were not that bad. Yet, everyone had been punished equally. Should a petty thief really be charged with a life of imprisonment while a tyrant who dedicated the last six months of his life to mass g******e gets to sit fat and happy on his throne?  I think not. But what could I do now? Nothing. So I laughed. It didn’t matter what was fair or just. I had been the last free outlaw. The last villain. The last hope of freeing these people. And now here I stood smack dab in the middle of… Wait, where is here? My maniacal laughter abruptly ceased as my eyes snapped open. I certainly wasn’t dead, despite the all-too-theatrical ‘drag me to hell’ escort I’d had out of the realm of mortals. I was relieved to find my eyes still glowed brightly. If I couldn’t shift into a dragon I was likely to become the monster the king had painted me to be. I glanced around to find I was in the middle of a crowd made up of eyes all looking to me. The space was drenched in a nervous silence. Long gone were the stomach-churning screams I'd only been partially privy to on my descent.  Though I was atop something, positioned slightly above the crowd, I could only make out a few faces in the incredible darkness. I blinked a few times, allowing my eyes to adjust. The realm was dark- I was right about that- but there were in fact a few small flickering flames gently illuminating the space. Still, I could only really make out details on the faces nearest to me. The anxious energy in the space was heavy enough to clue me in the crowd went much, much further than my eyes could detect. My attention flicked across the sea of prisoners, curiously assessing my new home. My eyes landed on worried faces, interested faces, and expectant faces. Of course they all knew who I was. I’d been the one to encourage them to form a unified front. I’d been the one to lead them in the war against the king and… this. Between rallying them all together and spending months on the battle field with them, I knew plenty of them, as well. But there was no one I would call a friend. I’d given up on the idea of that years ago. As I scanned the onlookers my eyes drifted to a very tall man who stood almost separate from the crowd, but near enough a torch that I could make out the details of his face. Much like everyone else, his full attention was trained on me. I'd never seen him before; of that I was certain. There was no way I'd forget a man like that. He was painstakingly handsome, but I could feel the danger exuding from him. Something about him felt familiar and comfortable, but I knew better than to trust that feeling. A beautiful face does not a good guy make. Not that I was one to speak on goodness. Not anymore. His lips parted slightly as he stared back revealing his pointed teeth. Everything about him screamed ‘stay away,’ but something within me wanted to do exactly the opposite. No time for that. Focus up, Maeve. I forced my eyes to continue scanning the crowd. I couldn’t see enough in the dim lighting to fully assess my surroundings. I needed to shift into my dragon form and take inventory on the realm. As everyone continued to watch me, I pictured my dragon. I imagined what it felt like to be a dragon. Nothing happened.  Huh. Interesting. I’d been shifting into my dragon for years and at this point it usually took no more than a few seconds to complete the transition. But now… now there was… nothing. I couldn’t feel the tingle beneath my skin. I couldn’t feel any part of my body expanding. I couldn’t shift. In a panic I uttered a spell to create a more effective light source, but again I was met with emptiness. My stomach rose into my throat. For just a moment, I dared a glance back at the tall, handsome man- unsure if I was checking for judgement or reassurance. His eyes were pitch black, but intrigue was still visible within them. When he saw my eyes land on his, he took a step forward. I couldn’t risk making an enemy so soon, so I tore my eyes away, swallowed down my panic, and did what I do best; led. “YOU HAVE BEEN WRONGED. Tonight the royal family will toast to their victory over the villains, but answer me this: are we really the bad guys?” I was pleased to find my voice carried through the space with ease. “Are we the ones that created an entire realm to imprison people simply because we do not understand them? Are we the ones who stole away unsuspecting people in the night? Are we the ones who sacrificed an entire army all in the name of protecting one woman… or are we the ones who fought hard to defend our friends, our homes, our lives?!” A few people nodded in agreement. A few cheers and shouts came from further back in the crowd. “They condemned you to darkness- condemned us to darkness, but we will rise again!” Cheers now rang out from the mass in every direction. I had no f*****g clue if what I was saying was possible, but I did know that without any hope and without any sense of leadership these people would eat each other alive. So I continued. “We will build a society, we will explore this realm, we will prove that we are NOT the monsters!” Everyone whooped and yelled and clapped. I heard a few brawls break out, but for the most part everyone’s attention remained on me. I glanced again across the crowd and found the tall man’s eyes still trained on me. He smiled when our eyes met and I found myself disturbed by the way it made my heart leap. I gave him a half smile in return, not because he’d earned it, but because I knew better then to let my excitement show. That would be foolish; dangerous. “Welcome to the Dark Place, my friends. Now, let’s get to work on getting the f**k OUT!” I stalked away in a direction as if I knew where I was going. Once I had found myself far enough away from the crowd, I sunk to the hard clay floor and cradled myself in the darkness. I felt pain stabbing in my chest, but tears wouldn’t come. My eyes stung, but the devastation of being without my dragon, without my magic, of being trapped unable to escape my body.  They took away tears?! Why!? What kind of f****d up mind came up with that punishment?! At least I got to make that man suffer before I left- even if I wished I'd had time for more. At least I’d have the memory of seeing him blister and choke to carry me through.  But in doing so, I'd found myself in inescapable darkness. I didn’t know how to live up to the promises I had just made, but I knew that I wouldn’t ever stop trying. I would do anything to get my powers back. I would stop at nothing to make King Charming pay for this special brand of cruelty. And when the world was done screaming my name in terror, I'd find a way to hell, just to make them scream again. I am not the monster.