Queen's Shadow || Kingdom at the End of the World - Book II

[33.1] Curtain Fall

Ira Hale was about to die for the third time in her twenty-odd years of life.

Ira's vision dimmed. Her feet swung in empty air, unable to reach her assailant. The cold hands that gripped her throat dug so deep they seemed about the cleave through her flesh. Muscles bruised and tore under their crushing weight. Had Ira been human, she would have long lost consciousness to lack of air.

The creature in black regarded her calmly. Ira's hands scrambled for purchase over arms that stretched far above the creature's head, but found her fingers grasping shadows. She was reminded of the lugat she had encountered in her journey to Chervnik. The monster's spindly limbs and rotting flesh were terrible to behold, but it at least had the decency to assume a corporal form. Ira had no hope to best a foe that did not fully exist in the physical realm.

"Traitor," the woman in black hissed.

Her voice rushed in Ira's ears with the might of a torrent. The songstress had been damned by that very word, Ira recalled dimly. The woman's blood dyed the floor red. Her body lay scattered, torn apart by the creature's fury.

Ira let go. Her arms fell at her sides, hanging limply. She did not expect the creature to let her go and indeed, the grip around her neck did not lessen. The woman in black was motionless but the shadows that pooled at her feet twisted in agitation. They rippled upward, as if wishing to swallow the woman in black herself.

The ring Ira wore glinted in the dark. The stone was turned inward; when Ira curled her fingers, it pressed against her bloody palm.

The ring pulsed. Ira felt a bite of cold and then her senses dimmed, as if pulled inward through a crack in reality's shell. Her body remained trapped in the monster's grip but her soul was elsewhere entirely.

Ira had not meant to use the ring Lord Fane left in her possession. She did not trust the man, less out of any fear that he might be scheming her demise and more due to the Vampire Lord's poor foresight and the sheer naivete with which he approached the world. The ring may well be useless. It could also pose a graver danger than the one Ira found herself in at present.

As matters stood, Ira did not hesitate in taking the gamble. A chance at survival, however slim, was better than the certain death that awaited her in the hands of the woman in black.

The world righted itself. Ira stood at the center of a large hall, surrounded by overturned shelves. For a moment, she thought of Beaufort Manor and the library that had been lost to Silva Layfe's last stand. The domed ceiling rose far above her head. The walls, too, bore a curve that resembled the cut of the ring's stone.

Lord Fane's account appeared truthful. Ira was curious to explore the strange space within the ring, but the urgency of her situation did not permit for any flights of fancy. She set to rummaging through the mess in search of anything that would be of use.

The space within the ring was large. Ira could not see where the walls curved back onto themselves, but could tell that much of the hall was unused. What there was lay in disrepair. A cursory look quickly revealed a problem: the books and furniture bore similar damage.

Something had chewed through the contents of the ring.

Ira raised a metal plate left behind in a work area of some kind. The teeth marks were pronounced, leaving one side of the plate jagged.

Something moved in the shadows.

Ira set the plate down slowly. It was easily half her size, and thick enough to withstand a sword. The creature that left it in such a poor state was not to be underestimated. She sought the pull of the ring's magic within her and readied to leave.