Prelude to Chaos: Part V — Let The Games Begin

The Queen's Residence - Papilio Palace.

The walls of the castle were painted with charred rock sourced from around active volcanos, carrying a certain scent of sulphur along with it, preserved with magic. In one of the high rooms of her majesty, the screams of a woman echoed. The knights stationed outside her room were solidified to the wall, hearing the chaos ensue, unflinching. They only stood to protect her majesty, nothing else mattered to them.

“Your majesty! Let me go, please! I beg of thee, show mercy!” the woman screamed as the queen licked her crimson tinted lips, a string of silk lingerie sliding down her shoulder as her hands lifted to throw in another lash of the whip. The scantily clad woman at her feet screamed, a beauty covered in blood, tied up, tormented and begging, wishing for reprieve.

Perhaps the woman’s beauty was exactly what flared her majesty’s temper as a splash of blood landed on her smooth luscious skin. The queen licked the blood of her cheeks before another round of lashing ensued, the woman’s screams drowned out by her majesty's laughter, her face contorting into a devilish grin until the body no longer screamed. The woman had passed out from pain.

The Queen wiped the blood from her hands with a silk handkerchief, throwing it onto the floor, bored as a knock appeared on her door.

"Enter," she commanded and a beautiful man entered, white robes covering his person, a shawl around his shoulder with golden scripts imbued on it. The golden curls of his hair matched the hazel shade of his eyes, a crimson crystal hanging low on his chest.

It was pope Vincent. He didn't look at the bruised and beaten woman, only at the Queen.

“I'm afraid the fun can wait, your majesty.” He bowed his head before raising his gaze to meet the Queen’s eyes. Her foul expression changed quickly to one of thinking.

“What has brought you to my door, Pope Vincent? This is a busy season for you isn't it?”

The pope didn't laugh at her sorry idea of a jest. “We do not have much time. The Calamity is not far, the goddess speaks to me with much urgency.”

“I suppose we do not have room for negotiation.” The Queen spoke calmly, throwing her whip behind her, walking up to Vincent with bloodied hands, staining the white fabric near his chest with her finger marks, chuckling.

"The preparations are complete," Vincent said.

"Is that so?" The Queen walked to the window, looking down at the distant lights of Sol Academy. " Chernobog would be disappointed if we rushed his precious little games. But my will is law. Do what you must. As for the Jester who moves in the shadows… flush him out."

"Indeed," Vincent agreed. 

Meanwhile, deep in the Staff Wing of Sol Academy, in a room filled with black candles and velvet drapes, Lilith sat before a magic mirror used for communication over long distances, but she wasn't looking at herself.

The reflection showed two figures standing there, shadowy, distorted versions of Musashi and Ophelia, the current 33rd Degree Mages.

Lilith was a gothic beauty, radiating a dangerous, seductive energy as she applied a coat of black lipstick, her movements sharp and impatient.

"So," Lilith purred to the reflections. "The Queen wants a show. The Pope wants a crusade. And Chernobog wants to play oblivious."

The shadows whispered back in a chorus of whispers. Sacrifice. Blood. Ascension.

Lilith smiled, revealing a row of teeth that were slightly too sharp.

"I hate overtime," she sighed, standing up and smoothing her lace dress. "But if there's going to be a bloodbath... I suppose I should get a front-row seat. Enjoy the festivities while you can. The bill is coming due."

She blew out the candles, plunging the room into darkness.

"Let the games begin."