The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 2

Many artists working at the docks have gone out of their way to paint portraits of the Void Queen. Not to honor her or hang them up on the sides of buildings. In the eyes of our current queen, Millicent Terravale, that is a crime leading to death. A headless, breathless, soulless death.

These paintings bring the dark side of the Void Queen, darker than her appearance. Normally, her face is twisted or her hair, silver-like crystals, spirals into knots of snakes and spiders. To give citizens a visual to her obvious destruction of the void territory and the people within it. An idea Millicent Terravale applauds for everyone should fear the day her sister rises from a black rose throne to kill us all.

Staring at her now, I realize those paintings were wrong. She's nothing like what they created and made me believe. The Void Queen has a mature beauty only achieved by a razor-sharp jawline and profound cheekbones sticking out farther than a pair of deep-set, topaz eyes. Gold sees all. The Void Queen does, too. Soon, gold will shroud and smother all.

Where is the Raven Queen, Millicent Terravale, when we need her? This is her land, but a former queen without a throne will stop at nothing to gain interest.

A soldier slams into my back, nearly knocking me to the ground if not for cold, scaled gloves that wrap around my arms and pull me back to a standing position. Castiel shouts, attempting to fight off the guard dragging him towards the Void Queen, but we're not strong enough. Too young and too weak. The soulless, crafted by Wyetta—the cruel woman grinning wide at our struggling—can't feel pain. They cannot weaken, nor lose. These orders lie in their contracts of a second life.

Others have already fallen under her control. Most of them young and inclined to fight against the dark power invading such a calm and productive dwelling. I want to see the Raven Queen; I want to watch Millicent Terravale in all her power arrive from the night sky bleeding stars to save us all. It's a cruel wish considering she has done nothing for the Farm Territory I've lived in my entire life, but she's the only one able to stop this.

The Void Queen's silver hair, straighter and thinner than my own, blows in the ocean breeze. I smell the salt and a lingering stench of dead fish from the day's work. Unless that belongs to my own hands, I cannot tell. Neither can the Void Queen and she doesn't seem to care. For a woman born for luxury, standing on a wooden dock littered with sand doesn't bother her black scaled armor in the slightest.

No billowing gowns to hide her hourglass figure. Only a cape rimmed with white fur brushes against her back, tangling against the sword at her hip. Her gloved hands fall together, like a proper queen, in front of her abdomen and it takes all my strength not to fight.

Castiel hasn't given up yet. There are others being brought in from many different hiding spots in the village. They, too, fight the soldiers.

"Castiel," I pant, trying to grab his attention. The guard tightens his grip on my arm. He reeks as a soulless soldier should, like he should've rotted in the ground weeks ago instead of walking the same surface I tread. "Castiel, there's no use. Stop fighting."

The guards throw us forward, into the sand in front of the docks, and grains of white and beige sprinkle onto Wyetta's boots. My mother told us to fear her. For she doesn't believe all are equal.

Her armor creaks and squeaks when she kneels down in front of us, resting her elbows over metal thigh plates. "Little elves," she coos. Her blood-red lips curl into a grin. "You look like twins."

I brace my hands in the sand and try to back away, but the soldier presses firm on the back of my neck. His fingers splay and the Void Queen watches as I whimper, bowing my head towards her. I do not wish to obey to her commands; I do not wish to die.