Nothing. There was nothing.
Left, then right, she slapped her hands all over the invisible barrier for ten feet in both directions, but she was trapped.
She backed away, still staring at the melting border, her eyes watering again. She turned around to face the Voidwarden again, only to suddenly catch sight of it in her periphery. She jumped and screamed—the creature was almost close enough to touch—and flung herself back against the melting wall.
“What an enchanting evening,” the Voidwarden commented softly. Its face was the only one in the courtyard not smiling. The rest of the mob continued to stare, their smiles fueled and arranged by some mechanism of the Voidwarden’s.
“This reminds me of so many other celebrations of victory,” it continued, flowing around the floor in slow circles. “So many ancestors of yours, so similarly pleased with themselves, enjoying the spoils of war.”
The Voidwarden’s voice continued meandering in the area between the queen and the possessed crowd.
“One celebration in particular springs to mind,” it said in an almost-innocent lilt. “The celebration of the triumph over the Nurudians. Though that party was held long ago—by the first in your line of predecessors, in fact—it is still to this day one of the most impressive displays of debauchery I can recall.”
The Voidwarden smiled and snorted as he remembered.
“And at this celebration, just like that one, and every one in between…”
The Voidwarden abruptly stopped, turned, and shot over to within inches of Jularra’s face.
“…I was not invited!”
As its anger pierced Jularra, hundreds of little appendages shot out from its center mass to penetrate her clothing and slide against her skin. Jularra instantly began to shiver. Her throat hardened from the desire to scream being simultaneously stifled by fear. Sadistic feelers danced across her clitoris and nipples. She felt even more of the evil extremities swirl across the small of her back and work their way up the scar along her spine. Jularra couldn’t help but register the initial sensation of sexual stimulation, and felt instant shame, then disgust, as a result. At the same time, the scar from her ceremony, so many years ago, felt as painful and fresh as it did when she received it. She was being humiliated again. Violated—again. She had no power at that moment.
“Rarely have I had to go to such efforts. Rarely have I had to remind a queen of Acorilan of her obligations.”
Jularra swallowed and forced some of the fear from her face. It can do whatever it wants to do with my body, she thought. It will not have my fear.
Its voice lowered, but the scratchy overtones remained. “Do not offer pitiful excuses, or feign ignorance of the time frame. The first of your line swore to me that each of her descendants would be forever in my service, and you know full well the terms of that agreement. The deadline to begin your compliance is approaching, and you do not appear, smell, feel, or taste as if you are expecting. I would suggest you work to rectify that, immediately.”
Jularra’s lip quivered. Her cheeks and eyelids twitched. She wanted to speak, but didn’t want her voice to break. She risked it.
“How do you know if I can even have children?” she asked. Her voice only gently trembled.
The Voidwarden sent a wave of movement through its numerous extremities, and brought them around to Jularra’s stomach. They then slid down to her waist, and then to her pelvic area.
“All you need is seed. It will grow,” it answered.
As the Voidwarden finished speaking, the black form retracted its hundreds of thin fingers and backed away from her. Though its shape was still nebulous, it started to take on the silhouette of a human form. The portion where its head should be formed a mouth. It joined in with the rest of the crowd, silently laughing. The mouth stretched and contorted to a revolting shape; the disgusting thing's laughter started to make noise, and with it, the volume of the crowd increased.
Jularra lost sight of the Voidwarden in the crowd just before blackness overcame her vision. Though she couldn’t see any longer, she felt the change in the arrangement of her body. As soon as she could register the thought that her eyes were closed, she popped them open. She had returned to her previous position of kneeling next to the musicians, who were once again holding their instruments. From what she could tell, she had been returned to reality. The waking nightmare had ended.
She breathed in deeply, but her chest shook. Jularra wanted to cry, but was distracted by one musician’s lingering, twisted smile. She stood up in defiance, but as she did, the apparently oblivious musician shook the grin off and went back to playing. Still desperate to escape, Jularra swung around to inspect the rest of the scene. The columns, sky, ground, musicians, and frolicking crowd had all returned to normal. But the point had been made. It would be some time before she returned to normal.
Jularra’s mind evaporated. She lost feeling in her legs and started to sweat. She wiped her eyes and scanned the courtyard. Everyone looked familiar and alien all at once. She needed Korden. She just wanted to see him and hear him.
Stunned sober, she took off in a hobble and waded through the crowd. No one cared or noticed that anything was wrong. They hadn’t been shaken to the core, and their alcohol levels were managing just fine. Her stomach started to boil up. Vomit crested the top of her throat, but she kept it down. Jularra dipped and swerved, dodging some drinkers, clumsily banging into others. The few that did notice threw out a sincere apology at obstructing the queen, but
