The Antagonist

1. Tick, Tock.

Howls of rage flew across the nearly deserted land and the sea, alerting the inhabitants of their mistress’ unhappiness.

She was angry.

The Queen’s anger echoed across the halls of her glass castle, disrupting the peace of the sleeping spirits she kept with her. She stormed down the stairs of her see-through towers, awakening any sleeping being within her land. She knew exactly where she was going and weaved in and out through the halls and going down a few sets of stairs.

Her glossy black hair practically flew behind her as she strutted to the entrance of her right-hand man’s living quarters. The doors burst open on her command and the resident awoke with a start. She stood there, hands on hips, watching him sit up in his bed and stretch.

“My Queen?” he asked, trying his best to cover a yawn.

She huffed at him, “Why doesn’t it work, Maurus?”

Maurus’ head bowed in apology. “My Queen, I—what does not work?”

“Fool!” the Queen screamed.

The dark skinned man was instantaneously off his bed and on his knees. His Queen could do damage beyond repair and he refused to be like her last assistant. “My Queen, I deliver my deepest apologies, I never meant to—”

“Off your knees, Maurus,” the Queen said with a harshly quiet tone.

Maurus obeyed immediately. He would never disrespect his Queen. He kept his head bowed, his chin near his chest, in submission.

The Queen threw her dark mane of hair over her shoulder in a scoff. “Maurus, there has been a technical difficulty.” Her eyes wandered around the room before looking back at him.

The wingman’s brow furrowed. A technical difficulty? In what, exactly? He knew everything about the castle and the people of the kingdom, but there were some things the Queen did that not even he was allowed to know about.

Hastily, the Queen stalked off, her anger vibrating everything she passed. Her long, dark hair seemed to float behind her as she walked. Maurus quickly threw himself out of his bed and followed her through the labyrinth of walkways the Queen called her castle.

She led him to her private quarters, an office-like place, where she kept many clocks. They all clicked at the same rate, they all showed the same time. The clocks were all the same size, and they all lined the walls as if they were paintings. Maurus had seen clocks that looked familiar before, but he had never seen this many.

Tick, tock.

“It won’t cut,” the Queen hissed. “Why won’t it cut, Maurus?”

Maurus instantly knew what was happening. He examined the glowing string carefully, the Queen holding the thin clock attached to it.

“My Queen,” Maurus said hesitantly. He knew vaguely of these devices; the Queen was supposed to be an expert in them, but apparently she was having some troubles. Maurus assumed and hoped he was right. “Someone doesn’t want this person to die.”

The Queen’s dark eyes narrowed. “Who?!” she exploded. “Who would be so important that this person could not be brought to me?” The Queen wanted this power. She needed it. Without it, she felt void and useless. Not being able to cut this string irritated her to no end.

Tick, tock.

Maurus looked at his Queen expectantly. “My Queen, I—”

His Queen’s eyes widened and her breath drew. “Maurus…” she said hesitantly. “Maurus, this could only mean one thing…”