Nychta - The Bloodrose Kingdom

Chapter 16 - The Crowd's Favorite

I quickly eyed her, eyed every part of her. She was Eman’s lover, the girl he loved instead of me. There she was, crowned in the best blades the queendom had, her image adored by everyone. There she was, being the favorite again, stealing the people’s eyes.

Hilda, the girl I have never talked to, but still loathed so much.

I didn’t know what reaction I will have when I looked at her sharp features, a white scar permanently imprinted in her left eye, although it was still working. Fear? Anger? Envy? What could I feel when the girl hasn’t done anything against me intentionally? Yet.

She looks at the crowds and enjoys their cheering, savoring every little bit of love as they screamed and shouted at the top of their lungs. The favorite, after all, was not dressed in white and mercy, but in sharp blades and death itself.

“I am Hilda of the Knives,” her raspy voice said, experienced in every way a thief is. “I have come here to rule the queendom, and to kill everyone who wish against it,” she says, a flash of untamed fury in her eyes. She was deadly, ready to murder everyone who will go against her.

But instead of cold fear and confusion, I racked up my guts. If she was to kill everyone that went against her, then I was the one who made the people go with me, the one to rally them against a greater evil, instead of becoming one myself.

I was to become a queen, not a murderer. But I made sure to murder her first, just to do the Divination’s deed. I would even take pleasure in doing it.

Just because you’re to become a queen doesn’t mean we can’t kill her, the gem said, a loud steely laugh coming from it. And I beamed inside at her voice, especially when she said we, obviously in line with my particular hate on Hilda.

I hated her, true, but I needed more reason to actually do. And I was to prove it in the competition, or die trying to ignore it.

She holds her ball above her, purely silver and shining as the intense ray of the sun hit it. She took her strength and balled her fist, cracking it to a thousand tiny pieces.

In an instant, the blades adorned all over her body shined with a violet light, coating in her the same color. It made her figure bloom, as the blades slowly unsheathed from her body, like snakes moving on to find their next prey. They all moved with a certain slowness, like passion on a lover’s body.

As it finally left her, the blades circled around her all of them aiming at the crowd. She was smiling, the violet light not leaving her body.

She holds out her left hand slowly, letting the blades sway in the direction. She repeated this to the right, as if mimicking the gesture of the wind. Dangerous, deadly wind.

And then as if following a rhythm of her own, she starts her dance. A deadly dance of knives and beauty. The violet aura was pulsating at every second, increasing in intensity. She swayed her hands and body, riding the rhythm and closing her eyes to feel every beat. She was a good dancer, for her body naturally rode a rhythm we didn’t hear. Every part of her well-defined figure was given light, making us see a dangerous woman in her peak. She looked capable in every way: capable of enchanting us, charming us, and then killing us after.

The blades formed a rose-like position, circling around her in majestic sways, shining as the sun defined every detail, from the curves to the carvings. I wondered about which one I my neck would meet if I failed. The crooked one with the green letters? The straight and sharp one with a leather handle?

And as she reached the end of her dance, her body gradually locking into a normal place, she placed her hand at her left pocket, drawing out something up her gown. Slowly and surely, keeping the tension in place for everyone. Tricks and treats for the people to see.

And then she brought out the hand, her claws swiping the air. There was rage and yet precision in her move, spreading the violet light that enveloped her from earlier.

They flew out like birds riding the wind, their sharp ends aiming for everyone at the crowd. This would cause deaths, a lot of it. This would case outrages from everyone, as they died at the time when they were so in her dance, in her mere existence.

She attracted them first, and then killed them after. Would she have done the same to Eman?

If this wasn’t an illusion, then the now-cheering crowd would probably be on the floor, bleeding with fresh blood. It was good that it wasn’t, as the illusionary knives passed through every one, each of them catching the weapons for entertainment. They took part in the games of life, it seems.

Hilda gives one short look at the crowd, and then bows, her short hair dropping in front of her.

And then everyone’s attention turned towards me, the last girl. Save the best for the last, it seems. My unfading façade of natural coldness glistened with effort as I finally took in everything I had.

As Hilda turned her body back, her face still with a smug smile, her eyes landed on me. Those piercing eyes of a thief looked at me, and saw her foe, who came from the same city. If Eman talked about me, she wouldn’t know about what I looked like. Not like me, who occasionally spied their confrontations out of petty jealousy. I was pathetic, I admit.

But now she looked at me with nothing but curiosity, maybe even fear. Her face suddenly dropped to her normal one, devout of any emotions and pride. She didn’t scowl at me, didn’t return the angry look of my eyes. She only returned to her post beside me, and toyed with the daggers in her left thigh.

I felt cold all of a sudden, for being so angry at her when she obviously didn’t mean any of it.

It was also because it was about to be my turn now.

The banners of Silverfang was raised higher than before as they saw me, saw every little and intricate details of my gown, my face.

And then I started walking. My high black heels stomped on soft carpet, my balance in check. I was a walking nightmare, capable of giving terror and asking for respect. I was the Raven of the queendom, Bloodrose.

My long black hair followed me while slightly swaying behind my back as the wind went against me, the feathers of my gown rustling. I made sure to look at every single one of the people in the crowd, making sure to have a personal contact with them.

Slowly, but surely. A queen did not hasten, Rosemary said, unless it was in battle. And so I did a proper pace. A queen does not smile, Rosemary said, unless for diplomatic missions. And so I kept a prim face. A queen makes everyone to please her, she said. And so I kept an authoritative air by keeping my chin high.

I ascended up the stairs, my buckling knees fortunately being covered by the gown’s long skirt. Thank god the feathers covered me, for I was to be seen shaking already if it wasn’t for it. My face kept the mask of coolness.

And when I was fully on top of the stage, when the coldness of the wind increased and when the crowd was to be seen in every direction, I made my way to its center.

But I was not an entertainer, not like any of these girls. I was to show them that I was not an act for them to enjoy, but rather, an act for them to respect, and to favor as queen.

And so I looked at them piercingly, my lips kept shut. I gazed at them, asking them for silence. I was going to make sure that everyone heard me as I spoke.

And as if a magic spell came from out of me, the talking crowd dampened their volume, each of them fully giving their attention to me. This was going fast and smooth.

As their eyes looked expectantly at me, I started my speech.

“I am Machiavellian of the Raven, who has come here, to declare myself, as the queen of Bloodrose!”

The crowds shouted in response, a positive reply to my speech. I continued with unwavering courage and depth in my voice. Seize them by their minds and hearts, and prove yourself worthy, the voice in my head said.

“I am nothing but a fellow citizen like all of you, a petty thief from the lands of Silverfang. But now, I was trained and was honed by the best, and I shall prove myself worthy of the crown,” I said, remembering each and every painful but effective lessons I had with Rosemary. I remembered myself, the thief who lived to steal and to survive. That was only a husk of my earlier self, and now I was here now, full and blossoming like a deadly nightshade.

“I am not only with a simple soul. I come here to give power to the darkest of the stones. I am bestowed this power upon me, and I shall use it to command and to lead!” I say, making my dark stone stand out even darker. The cheers were deafening.

I had them in my hands, and I made sure to make the attention coming.

I now wore the black necklace that Rosemary told me to wear. It was quite heavy, a dark and smooth obsidian with the queendom’s marking in the middle of it. The raven, in its full glory. I put the metallic chain holding it, pressing the cool metal on my neck. It wasn’t just any necklace, it was the queendom itself. It felt heavy to wear something, to say such a testimony that brands myself as a queen.

I took the black ball in my hands, swirling shadows waiting to show its full glory for the crowd to see inside. I closed my eyes and put my left hand above my head. Whatever happens now, I fully trust myself to Rosemary. And the gem.

In one sharp fist, I crushed the ball, the magic inside pouring to me and spraying all over the arena. It was if night came down once again, as if darkness unraveled itself for everyone to see.

But it wasn’t the darkness that nightmare loved to accompany. It was the darkness that soothed the mind, the darkness that kept us in peaceful slumber and loving touches. It was the cool, never-ending darkness of the night.

It enveloped the whole arena, the light turning into night.

But it didn’t end there.

The skies inside the arena turned dark, as tiny tendrils of sparkles came off from it.

I felt the feathers in my gown rustle, slowly moving and then gaining life as my guts told me to turn around. I twirled slowly, and then gaining speed as I realized that the feathers of my gown turned into ravens of the blackest color, their screeches to be heard around the arena.

The crowd and I myself marveled as the ravens lifted off from my gown, with me still calling for the power that made them fly. They glided in the air freely, turning circles and quick dashes through the air as they flew over the people’s head. The children tried to reach them while smiling.

And then they made their way towards the new skies above us, the darkness still embracing us. And as if knowing what to do, the black feathers of the ravens withered off, turning into sparkles mid-air. The ravens themselves became white, and then turned bright, brighter than the sun as they flew in the air.

It only took a few seconds before they became light-filled wonders plastered in the sky, new-found stars dazzling for everyone to marvel at. This was part of the magic, Rosemary’s creativity and power combined. They gave a hope like Lucia’s, but with both the mystery and darkness. I was to become the Queen of the darkness, but I was planning to also promote hope and innocence. It was to be hard, but standing in front of the people, I felt the sensation embracing me more and more, pushing me to succeed.

I raised both of my arms in the air, spearing above me as I swirled faster than ever. I was a dancer, of black feathers and marvelous grace. I spun faster and faster, and I felt something in my gown again.

Wings. They were coming out my back. Strong, agile wings of a color purple and blue combined, like galaxies inside them. Each of the feathers had swirling comets and stars in them, beautiful and enchanting. It was like ink and void and magic. I was becoming one with it, feeling my back have a tickling sensation.

And then I spun faster and faster, the wings spreading out for everyone to see. The crowd gasped as they marveled at me.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

As I took my final spin, I used my new found wings to take flight, my feet finally leaving physical contact from the ground. I embraced every part of it, savoring the adrenaline and the feeling of freedom as I finally became one with the wind.

I soared higher and higher, my heart thumping loudly as I saw the people becoming smaller and smaller, every head pointed at me, their interest fully on me.

I flew so high that I touched the dark skies. I savored the silken feeling of it, like hand wading through a liquid-like cloth. I played with it and felt my fingers wrapping uncontainable magic.

And when I finally felt that I have showed everything, I fisted my air and closed my eyes.

In an instant, I made my way below, my wings soaring at full speed. Along my hands were the dark clouds, turning into a magical sheet that went with my will. As I grabbed it, the full rays of the sun hit inside the arena again.

The sheets vanished into black ravens as my feet touched the ground again. They flew away, their screeches the only thing left as I looked at them before the light of the sun made me look back to the ground.

And as I looked at the crowd, I felt a pride I have never felt before. For they were standing from their seats, some of them tearing up while some was left completely dazed. I swallowed every amusement, every support, as I closed my eyes and readied myself for the actual fight.

It was all show and fun. Until now.

And then the raven flied among the dark skies

Her wings of infinity soaring through the hearts of the people

And as she let go of all chains that kept her from flying

She had also accepted death, as she flew in front of it

And entered it, wholeheartedly