Chapter 3   The Witch Queen   author: Veyanne - yellow

 Adrift in a sea of blood.

All around her the cries of the drowning. Their lives draining away. They fought for air. They pushed each other down to stay afloat. All they wanted was one more breath.

Kendra had no sympathy for them. She lay back on her raft. She let the sun warm her dark skin. She floated gently along through the madness all around. It was so peaceful, so blissful. All her cares were drifting far away.

On the horizon she saw a storm brewing. The dark red clouds looming high in the sky. She welcomed it. She loved chaos it would bring.

Kendra slowly awakened from the dream. The magic had worked once again. She felt her youth restored. She lifted her arm out of the bath and watched the blood flowing down from it. She moved her hand over her face. The dark liquid rolled down to the tip of her finger. She opened her mouth. She let it drip onto her tongue. She tasted
it's acridness.

"Ahh.", she thought, "What the sorceress sends is always so fresh."

She immersed herself and then rose. A servant brought her towel. She stared at him making sure his eyes were always looking at the floor. He did not raise his head. He knew the price of disobediance. He left quickly when she was done.

Kendra dried herself off and went over to the mirror. She admired her body. It was once again youthful and firm. She looked closely at her face. She saw no wrinkles, no lines, and no blemishes. It was perfect. She was a vision of beauty equal to a goddess, a dark goddess. Indeed, many believed that was what she was.

She had made a deal with the devil, or a devil at least. She had traded her soul for immortality. She didn't think twice about it. She remembered that day well. She had looked in the mirror and saw the smallest little crows foot on her face. It horrified her. Her
greatest treasure was being stolen by the sands of time. Her life was over.

Then came the evil one. He offered her a deal. She could stay young forever but there was a catch. She had to drain the life from others. She had to bathe in their blood. The thought disgusted her, but the idea of growing old repulsed her even more. She also knew that the devil would not let her live forever. The devil's deals always serve him in the end. She accepted anyway. "Everyone sells their souls eventually,", she thought, "few get as much as I will receive."

She remembered her first bath. It was awful. It made her sick. The smell was horrid. The thought of the fifty men who gave their lives made her feel so guilty. Once in the tub she'd been overcome with naseau. She puked. She rolled out onto the floor. She swore she'd never do it again.

She was wrong. In time it became more pleasant. She saw her youth returning. Her guilt and disgust slowly left her. A hundred years passed. She aged not a day. She loved her baths. She savored every moment. She no longer cared about those who died to keep her young. The no longer mattered. They were merely mortals. She thought of them like cattle.

She began to put on her clothes. They were not to cover her up. They were to accentuate her beauty. Few men could resist her charms. Few men even tried. She had great power over them. She used it often.

The Witch Queen held out her hand. Her sword flew into her grip. She pulled it from it's scabbard. She felt it's weight and beheld it's appearance. The blade had a razor sharp edge and was the color of blood. It reminded her of all the battles she had fought. There were many. There would be many more.

A face appeared before her. It was the sorceress.

"Kendra, was my payment to your liking?"

It was, but Kendra never showed that side of her to others, even to those she'd known for decades. "I am ready.", was all she said.

"Good. You are needed. I shall transport you at once."