A golden throne stood in a marble room brightened with chandeliers; its base, fashioned in the likeness of butterfly wings, stood as a testament to opulence and grandeur.

A young buxom woman sat on the throne, a golden crown on her head. She dressed in a long, straight black gown that hugged her curves; her hair cascaded in waves, framing her face like a jewelled ornament; her ears like a rabbit's worn a dangly earring, and her long eyelashes stretched seductively while her emerald eyes looked sharp and witty.

Beside her stood two ladies in black double-breasted jackets, black breeches, and boots. Their faces were devoid of any emotion as they stood like a status.

Before her were hundreds of voluptuous ladies in red, short gowns barely covering their thighs; Each bore the signature black hair and green-eyed gaze of their ruler. All stood in two rows, creating a wide pathway covered in a red rug.

Above them all, a painful groan pierced through the air; it was Dorothy hanged up to the ceiling, her body dangling, and she moaned in pain as the manacle chafed her skin.

With a sour look, whispering here and there, everyone in the room looked up at Dorothy.

Queen Iris cocked her head as she looked up at Dorothy; her lips curled into a sly smile when Dorothy looked down at her with her sweaty, pale face.

In a chillingly soft voice, Iris addressed Dorothy, "You betrayed me, Dorothy; how will I show you mercy now?" She paused. "When one finds sustenance, tradition dictates the queen tastes first." She tsked, shaking her head. "But you, Dorothy, you called no one. Instead, you coveted it all for yourself."

Dorothy's pained groans punctuated the tense atmosphere.

"You shall be cast into the dark pit," Iris declared,

her voice carrying the weight of authority.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" echoed the fervent chorus of onlookers.

"Open the gate!" Iris commanded, and with a swift motion, the path covered in red rug opened up, revealing the gaping dark pit below.

Dorothy, looking beneath her feet, screamed, so frightened and struggling against her impending fate.

"No! No!" Dorothy turned to Iris, her brimmed with fear. "No!"

"Now!" Iris ordered. At once, the manacle on Dorothy's hands loosened, leaving Dorothy with her faith as she fell into the dark pit. And instantly, the floor shut at her, sealing her fate.

"Yes! Yes!" Everyone chorused as Laurel walked down the carpet to the queen. Her ladies dragged Neal, who'd been cuffed and blindfolded, to the throne.

They threw Neal on his knees.

"My queen." Laurel bowed. "Have brought you your meal."

A satisfied smile played across Iris's lips before she shifted a lustrous gaze to Neal.

In a soft voice tinged with hunger, Iris remarked, "He smells delicious." glancing back at Laurel, "But I won't have him with my fangs. Fetch his blood into my decanter and bring it to my chambers," she ordered, her gaze locking onto Laurel's.

"No! No!" Neal shouted; desperation brimmed his voice. "I need to find Darcy! Let me go! I have to find her!"

A diabolic laughter from Iris silenced Neal instantly, and he shivered.

"Your wife?" Still laughing, Iris scoffed. "You mean Dorothy!"

"No! I mean, my wife was abducted by the vulture. I need to find her back."

"Vulture?" Iris scoffed, "Then she should be dead by now. But don't mourn too much because you'll become my meal in a few minutes."

"No! No!"

"Take him away," Iris commanded.

As the two black hair ladies were about to get Neal on his feet, the red rug floor beneath them suddenly gave way and swallowed Neal and the two ladies.

"No!"

Tumbling while his shirt billowed in the air, Neal heard his voice echoing in the abyss.

"No!" Iris sprang up in anger. "You can't let him go!" She shouted, "Go after him and get him back here at all cost. I must have him!'

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" The crowd chorused, rushing toward the exit.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.