DEMENTED | Romance | Fantasy | Slight Thriller

Prologue pt. 2

Present Day, Absinthe--Western side of Chasm

Ebony sat on a tall dune of black sand, back against a tree of ash. She gazed out at her subjects below--a pile of old bones and a wilted shrub.

It wasn't the court she'd been used to in the castle, but it would have to do. They were her only companions here, aside from the constant threat of the giant volcano nearby, constantly pulsing magma light and clouds of ash. But while it seemed like an eruption was about to take place, it never occurred, and if it were to happen the lava would simply coat the western side of Absinthe and fall into the Endless Chasm splitting the two sides apart.

But when that happened Ebony would already be long dead, having rotted away into the pile of bones she watched from above.

That was to be her fate now--after her sister had become a bloodhound* and believed her a threat. Herself, who was little without the crown and title she'd inherited since she was but a babe.

The crown, with whatever possible threat it posed to her sister, was gone--taken from her right as she was exiled. The one possession she'd never wanted to lose; the one trace of her mother she had left.

A wind picked up from a dune nearby, tousling her long, midnight-black hair. It fell like an inky waterfall down her back until it ended just below her waist, and she ran her fingers through it as she let the wind caress her face.

If you stared hard enough into the distance, one might notice a flash of a Kingdom forged in obsidian and gold, a kingdom filled with nocturnal hollow-eyed absinthians much like Ebony--her home.

To see it there in the distance, perfectly fine and just as she remembered it, broke something deep inside of her. It seemed like they'd forgotten about her.

But of course, back at Absinthe's regal kingdom, they'd done anything but forget about her.

The Queen sat on a throne made of obsidian and gold, mirroring her kingdom's colors. Atop her head was a crown of obsidian and ruby, dusted in glittering mica flecks from Absinthe's mountains in the far east. Her attendance was Absinthe's court, called to order and all dressed in midnight-black and gold garments. And while everything around her was vibrant and regal, the expression on her face was anything but.

"This meeting has been called into attendance today to discuss the whisperings going on around the castle," The Queen announced, clearly angry. "Anyone who wishes to speak about my sister may now."

Her gaze traveled to one particularly gossipy middle-aged couple to her right. "My Duke and Duchess of Ember, report."

The couple stood up, visibly shaken from being called out in court.

"Your Majesty, Queen Crimson, we have meant no harm to the crown or the kingdom," the woman of the couple spoke nervously, inky-black hair pulled back into a tight bun. "We simply wish to know the reasons behind her exile."

Crimson watched them, intrigued. "I didn't know I needed a reason, much less to tell you one."

The Duke of Ember stepped forward, shoulder-length hair balding in the center. "Your Majesty, I apologize for my boldness, but we at the court believe in proper justice and fairness in Absinthe. We simply must know if Princess Ebony's exile had proper motives."

Crimson's eyebrows arched, surprised. "My dear Duke, I'm surprised at your brashness. This is the most bold I believe I've seen you behave in court!"

Laughter echoed through the hall from multiple courtiers. A smile etched its way onto Crimson's bloodred mouth, pleased at their response, but it disappeared as soon as she refocused her attention on the Duke and Duchess. "Very well, I will explain," Crimson spoke at last, clasping her ruby-ringed hands together in her lap.

"My dear sister, Princess Ebony, is a murderer." Multiple gasps echoed through the hall, but before anyone could ask questions she continued. "She murdered our father, the old King of Absinthe, before my very own eyes. And even years later after his death, once I became Queen, I could still see it--the murderous intent festering behind her eyes, the way she watched my every move--"

"She is a danger to the crown. And still a threat. I fear that if I had not exiled her sooner, she would spill my blood."

Once she was done, the hall erupted in choruses of murmurs and whispers, but the Duke still held his ground. "Have you any evidence? Any way to prove what you've seen?"

But Crimson ignored him. "This meeting of the Royal court is now adjourned," She cried, rising up from her throne. "Thank you all for your attendance."

Crimson retired to her rooms early that night, slipping on a red robe with a black silk sash and jewel-encrusted slippers with the help of a few servants.

As she sat at her desk in her retiring chamber, a servant wearing a red sash came in the room. "your Highness, the court dinner is all set."

"Good," Crimson responded, examining a stack of papers on her desk. "And the menu for tonight?"

"We chose to go with the kitchen's specialty this evening, your Majesty, and some of our finest ichor** aged fifty years in the archive," he responded.

"Perfect," Crimson said. "Lace the Duke and Duchess of Ember's ichor with poison, enough to kill the Duke and enough to scare the Duchess into obedience. I will not have brashness like this ever displayed again."

"Understood, Your Highness. Any preference?"

"Take your pick," Crimson smiled cruelly. "Anything that does the job."

The servant nodded once and left the room without another word. Once he was gone, Crimson noticed a bottle of her favorite ichor and poured a glass for herself. As soon as she'd filled it nearly to the brim, Crimson tipped her head of shoulder-length red hair back and downed the silvery liquid, letting it run down her chin as she poured herself a second glass. And a third.

Soon, she'd drunk the entire bottle, and savored the last bits of ichor left on her tongue. Then she sat up straight, wiped her mouth free of the liquid, and called for another bottle.

That night at the dinner the Duke and Duchess both doubled over, hacking. After a minute or so, the Duchess recovered, wheezing, but her Duke did not share the same fate. He died that night, but no one dared question what happened.

After that night Crimson heard no more whispers.