Black Queen

One

"...ye... Rye... Save them... ve the Morti...on's...aughter..." A voice solemnly spoke in the back of the mind of a small boy. He rubbed the back of his head with his left hand, and glanced at his surroundings.

"Rye. Save. Mort. Morti... cian. Mortician. Aught. Aughter. Slaughter? No. Daughter. Daughter." He repeated over and over.

The room was dark and lit by only a sole torch, burning so low that even the smallest breeze would extinguish it. A dark shadow loomed in the corner, coming closer, taking the figure of a massive beast with immense horns protruding from its head. Its eyes, its glowering green eyes watched Rye's every movement, every breath, every signal of life. It knew that Rye was conscious. It was now only a few feet above his body, terrible white teeth dripping in hunger.

It growled, "When the blood of the monarchy has been shed, the Black Queen will rise. When the blood of the monarchy had been shed, the Black Queen will rise."

Rye, shaking, glanced at the beast. From his mouth came words that he had never heard, nor thought of before. "Beast of beauty, beast of night, I present myself to thy. Within this pact, I seal my life to you in exchange for your power and might. Help me now, or be forever damned by the wrath of the Snake."

The beast blinked slowly and proceeded to hinge open its great gaping jaws, its dangerous ivory knives glinting in the dull light of the single torch. Its thin purple tongue rolled out, and flicked a drop of its black, tar-like blood onto Rye's supple, youthful neck.

"Ah!" Rye screamed in agony and writhed on the stone floor. The monstrous beast hovered over him, and with great care, used two of his four paws to hold him down with gentle weight. The beast swung its tail around and pressed it into the blood wound, and when it swept its tail away, a mark was left, branded into the skin. It was a simple shape in black of a few lines and circles, but overall resembled a startlingly menacing butterfly.

The beast stepped backward and bowed its horned head to the ground before Rye's feet.
"I am yours now, master Rye. I am forever at your service, child. My true name is Verus Altari Cruor, but please call me Cruor."

Rye gained the confidence to stand on his feet. Wobbly and unsure, he took a step, his left foot lifting up and stepping down back onto the cold cobblestone floor. Walking cautiously, approaching the beast, Rye bent to his knee and placed his hand upon the beast's forehead. "Rise, Cruor." Cruor rose. "Can you tell me anything of significant use about the Black Queen?"

Cruor winced, as if he were experiencing immense pain. "I apologize for that, Master Rye. I'm afraid that those memories of mine are too painful to pull from the wretched abyss that they have been so carelessly thrown into. If you would like me to, I will attempt to retrieve them, however, it may drain my energy enough to cause great damage to me, even death. Blood-beasts, although quite strong, take their only mental strength from their masters. In order for me to fetch you the thing you desire, you will need to strengthen yourself. If you will allow me, I can lead you in this training."

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