After a few moments, she began to relax and settle into her kneeling posture. Her head began to pulse as the music synchronized with her soul, and she felt completely immersed in the folk harmonies and beats. Her chest, heaving erratically at first with passion, began to swell and deflate, in and out in sync with the rhythm. The music had found her, and she had found peace. That victorious moment was hers, and hers alone.
She wasn’t accountable to anyone. No one needed her instruction or direction. Everyone around her drank, ate, danced, and sang to their maximum pleasure. No one needed the queen, and she was in need of no one. It was pure joy and relaxation. Each soul surrounded by the towering columns was temporarily free of duty or obligation. They owed nothing but what their minds and bodies desired.
This was not a night of morality and light. It was a night for indulgence.
Jularra’s eyes were still closed. Her head continued to bob with the music and her mind became looser. She smiled to herself as the ale caught up with her. Feeling the alcohol start to take effect, and knowing that a deeper euphoria would follow with additional drinks, was one of her closest-held comforts. Eyes still closed, she took in a large mouthful of ale, swallowed a bit, relished the taste, and slowly finished the rest of the gulp, twirling her tongue through the liquid as it slid down her throat.
She rolled her head in slow, small circles. A shiver rippled through her as a lutist struck another wrong note; she registered the irritating sound and then dismissed it. She began to lift her mug once again, but was jarred by another wrong note, this one nastily plucked by one of the musicians. Then, almost immediately, another. Her eyes shot open.
Her stomach bottomed out in disgust. Fear and confusion twisted her soul and stung her nerves with a wave of cold shock. The music she had previously been enjoying slid down melodically into a dark and atonal dirge of depravity. Some of the musicians previously playing bowed instruments were now sliding their bows in and out of the vaginas of some of the other players. Other bows now appeared as long and narrow penises. Each musician eyed the queen with a demented stare as they continued playing their sickening tunes. They showed their teeth in exaggerated smiles, lips stretched tight to the point of cracking, spilling little hints of blood from the raw skin.
Jularra scrambled back from the stage and shot to her feet. The music continued, though the musicians had ceased playing their instruments and began shaking as if laughing. Their torsos gyrated while their faces contorted in gaping guffaws, though no sound of laughter came from them.
The queen kept walking backwards. Her eyes remained locked on the group of musicians until she slammed into someone behind her. She whipped around and found another twisted face laughing silently at her. The music, still coming from an unknown source, continued to crescendo until it hurt her ears. Jularra fumbled around and bumped into others. She reached desperately past these familiar strangers, over their shoulders—reaching for what, she didn’t know. Her eyes started to water. She needed out, but as she reached the edge of the crowd, the columns began to melt.
Jularra started to sprint towards them, but the architecture was warping too quickly. She came to a stop after a short slide and froze in panic as the flawless marble melted together and seeped into the empty space between; whatever dimension that defined the area was becoming blurred, and only the courtyard inside the peristyle seemed to be navigable. She was trapped.
She flung her hands up, palms open and fingers stretched, wanting to test whatever was happening, but she couldn’t bring herself to focus. The music persisted, though faded down some. In its place, the crowded courtyard was now starting to make noise of its own. Within seconds, intimidating laughter from hundreds of people flooded her ears. The crowd’s noise conflicted abrasively with the continued music.
This isn't happening.
The queen turned deliberately. Though confusion and fear had monopolized her thoughts so far, she was finally able to think and consider. What was happening wasn’t reality. She knew someone—or something—was intentionally working to frighten her. She had to hurry. She had to work out what might be going on and who might be doing it. Her fear ebbed a bit at the thought of being able to confront the source.
Jularra continued to turn, taking in the perverted crowd which had surrounded her and closed in on her. Each face was mangled in malicious pleasure as they laughed, though none of the sounds seemed to be in sync with the people and their faces. As she searched the scene for something that would give her more information as to what was going on, she saw an odd figure moving through the crowd a few ranks back. The black form shifted up and down in size, never any higher than the shoulders of the person it was behind at any given moment. Jularra only saw hints of the black shape through the little slits of space between torsos and arms, but it started to weave closer to her. She didn’t know what it was, but she was ready to challenge it. She would not be afraid any longer. She took a deep, steadying breath, then leaned forward and started to march back towards the black figure.
Just before she reached the crowd, the black figure slid out from behind the closest person and revealed itself. The figure grew another foot in height and finished taking its shape.
The Voidwarden.
Jularra crashed back into her earlier state of panic and fear. She backed up a few steps before turning around and sprinting towards the melting perimeter once again. This time, she made no effort to stop and avoid contact with
