#rwrites

Faster, she had to move faster. She knew, she could feel it, he was almost gone. Why did she have to sleep? It was just a nap and he promised he wouldn’t leave the throne room. Please…. Please…. Don’t be too late. 

She threw the heavy doors to the throne room open and gasped for air. Though there were only about twenty or so nobles present, the red liquid slowly seeping down the steps to the throne was quite visible. She took off in a run again, her shoes clattering hard against the solid and cold stone.

She shouted his name, yet she couldn’t hear her own voice as she ascended the steps. Her husband lay in front of her, blood slowly trickling down the steps from several stab wounds. She sank to her knees, tears forming in her eyes, her breath shaking as she pulled him into her arms. For the second time in her life, she held the one she loved most, as they lay dying in her arms. His beautiful blue eyes met her brilliant teal ones as she slightly shook her head. He mouthed the words “I love you” and then slowly closed his eyes. 

She let out a cry from the very depths of her being, a wail that sounded of a world-ending. Had her hair not already turned white from the events of her childhood, it would have done so now. The room grew cold and ice crystals began forming across the floor. The nobles glanced back and forth between one another, with several bolting for the open doors. The doors, as if making sure that none would escape justice, slammed closed, the nobles turning back to look upon their queen.

The light in the throne room began to dim, as outside, what appeared to be a solar eclipse suddenly and rapidly appeared in the sky. Hushed whispers of panicked voices arose in the room, all seeming to be some variation of “it can’t be”. The room plunged into total darkness and silence, save for a pair of glowing amethyst eyes near the throne.

Unearthly sounds could be heard from the windows followed by a beastly and deep growl. Small bursts of a purple-black fire ran along the walls, lighting the sconces along the wall with the strange magical fire. A deep, raspy voice echoed through the throne room, 

“My, my, my. What have we here? A murdered king in the throne room. Did none of you pay any attention in school? Or did you think it was all just an old legend meant to scare bureaucrats into not killing their rulers?”

As the room lit more and more, it revealed a man, or what looked like a man, with glowing red eyes standing near the throne. He was dressed oddly, wearing what appeared to be black dragon skin in the form of a long, tailored coat. He leaned against a cane, with a silver dragon head at the handle. His smile sent chills through the nobles who were present, especially when he ran his fingers through his black hair. He picked a piece of dust off the vest of his black suit, seemingly bored with the whole affair. 

A nobleman, still holding a knife drenched in crimson, spoke up, his voice trembling, “A-are you?”

“The one who appears whenever a Wizard monarch is murdered? Yes, that would be me. Please tell me you remember my name at least? One can’t go around bringing about prophecies and fulfilling old legends properly without the requisite knowledge of just who is smiting who, now can we?”

“Dracten? No…. it… it can’t be.” The noble shook his head in disbelief. 

“Ah, well, at least your schooling was good for something. Now, let’s see here. I count…. Five of you with blades, several more with magical residue. My, my, what did he do to deserve such a death?”

“He and his queen have yet to save us from the undead scourge that is threatening to take over the realms.” The noble replied.

The same beastly growl filled the room from before and the man dressed in black slowly walked towards the nobleman, looking quite annoyed. “If you mean to lie to a god, I suggest that you do a better job of it, mortal.”  Once Dracten was right in front of the noble, he tapped his cane on the ground, “Let’s try that again, shall we?”

“He’s only half wizard. Not fit for being a royal.”

Dracten’s eyebrow twitched and his expression grew stern. “THAT is why he was murdered? Not for power, revenge, personal vendetta, the throne? No, you all chose to kill someone, over THAT?”

“Without a pure-blooded heir, the Wizard kingdom would surely suffer a lack of power against the other races.”

Dracten inhaled a few times, seeming to start speaking before pressing his lips together, only to repeat the process over again. “You…. Are an idiot.” Dracten walked away, shaking his head, making his way to the grieving queen. He stretched out his hand to her, which she reluctantly took as he helped her stand. He looked her over and then sighed, “My, my. Being the one to fulfill the prophecy of reuniting the realms apparently was not enough, was it? As you know, I am here at your service, especially seeing as you are the last of the royal bloodline, are you not?”

Her eyes had grown puffy, and her tears had crystalized into ice along her cheeks. She nodded and then spoke in a hoarse voice. “I am.”

“What is your request then? Torment for all eternity? Death, destruction and chaos? Come now, I must have an answer.”

“Any of you who had nothing to do with my husband’s death, leave now.” Her expression grew distant as the doors to the throne room swung open. All but a few hurried out of the room. Just beyond the threshold of the door, several sets of eyes watched with great interest and relief, thankful that they were not caught in the ancient enchantments of the throne room. “Dracten, my wish, in part of my family’s agreement with you ages ago, is to borrow your power for a time.”

He grinned with a deep laugh, “Now THAT, is one I have never been asked for before. Very well, you will be granted my powers for a time. And in return?”

“You may do with their souls as you wish. This I grant you, not only as the queen of the Wizards, but as the rightful heir to the Angelic and Demonic thrones, unifier of the races and restorer of the realms.”

He hit his cane on the floor twice and laughed again, “Excellent! I do love a good show.” He hopped over to the throne and sat down as if getting ready to watch a highly anticipated play. 

The nobleman spoke up, now visibly trembling, “Your Majesty, please, understand what we did was for the good of the kingdom.” Her eyebrow quirked and her gaze met his, her eyes both glowing a deep blood red. “Please… there must be someone far better suited, that you would prefer.”

The ice that had initially formed across the floor now spread, coating every nook and cranny. Dracten watched and laughed, “I’m afraid that won’t do when she loved him dearly. Be a good mortal and die with dignity, or do you mean to grovel?” Dracten’s laughter filled the room. It was an unnerving laugh, one that only one who enjoyed death and destruction could produce. He hit his cane on the floor twice and his eyes glowed brilliantly, the amethyst hue pouring out of his eyes. Blackened smoke, with purple lightning, began to pour out from him, taking the shape of a serpent dragon. It surrounded the queen until she was completely enveloped. 

When the smoke cleared, she stood there in the room, one eye glowing red, the other purple. Dracten now held a goblet and took sips here and there as he made himself more comfortable on the throne. 

“Hear me now. I will never love another. There will be no heir and the royal line will die with me. Then this realm and all our underwater cities will lie in ruins, all for your intolerance of someone who was merely half. And while I will defeat the undead and necromancers that plague us, I will do so on my terms, the same with the remainder of my rule.” She spoke clearly, yet her voice shook, not with sorrow, but with rage. “Tell me. You know me as the Phoenix Queen, yet, have you ever seen a dark phoenix?”

“Erm… no, your Majesty.” He replied, afraid not to answer her. 

The same creepy smile that Dracten once displayed now took hold of her lips as a dark shadow grew from behind her. The fire on the sconces dimmed and the screech of a bird sounded. A great many screams were heard afterward, as retribution and an old bargain was once again fulfilled, the floors stained red, and the sky darkened.

In the days that followed, several funerals were held, the queen standing by at each, expression ice cold, her teal eyes hollow and devoid of emotions. She never cried publicly over the loss of her husband, but rather issued a decree stating what had happened that day, the surviving bureaucrats signing as witnesses.