THE DEAD QUEEN
Property of:
Rapid Fire Enterprises
Created By:
David Tyrel Little
Chapter 9: Bandits
The sky was a canvas of deep indigo and silver, the stars like shards of crystal scattered across the heavens. The crater where Enixia had landed was eerily quiet, the chill of night pressing against the scorched ground. Yet, as she lay there, her torn clothes offering no protection, she felt nothing. No cold, no discomfort. Only a deep, dreamless sleep.
When the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Enixia stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, the morning light glinting off her pale skin and blackened veins. She stretched, her body moving with a fluidity she hadn't known before. The soreness she had expected from the experiment, the crash, the fire—it wasn't there. She felt strong. Invincible.
She rose to her feet, brushing the dirt from her clothes, though they were little more than scraps now. Her mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts—her transformation, her newfound abilities, her father's betrayal—but as she looked around, another realization struck her.
She had slept soundly. Peacefully. Even in the open, with nothing but the cracked earth beneath her, she had felt safe.
I should have been freezing, she thought, her fingers grazing the black veins running up her arms. But the temperature hadn't touched her. She felt no chill, no heat. It was as if her body no longer responded to such things.
Her reflection was cut short by the faint crunch of boots on dirt. Then another. And another. She froze, her ears twitching as the sound grew louder. It was coming from all sides.
Before she could react, figures emerged from the trees and rocks surrounding the crater. Dozens of them—rough-looking men clad in mismatched armor and tattered cloaks. Their faces were hardened, their weapons crude but deadly. Human Bandits.
The largest among them, a man with a scar running down one side of his face, stepped forward, his cruel grin revealing yellowed teeth. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he drawled, his eyes scanning Enixia with a predatory glint. "Pointed ears... Looks like we've got ourselves a little Temeri Girl."
A murmur rippled through the group, and several of the bandits exchanged greedy looks. One of them, a wiry man with a dagger, laughed. "A Temeri? She'll fetch a fortune!"
Another, a burly man with an axe, leaned forward, his voice low and lecherous. "Forget the markets. Look at her. She's... beautiful. Could have some fun first."
Enixia's stomach churned at the implication, but she kept her expression calm. She scanned the group, counting at least fifty of them. The odds were impossible, but something deep within her stirred—a fire, a force she didn't yet understand but was desperate to unleash.
The scarred leader stepped closer, his grin widening. "What's the matter, girl? You scared?"
Enixia's lips curled into a faint smile, her voice low and steady. "Not of you."
Before he could respond, she moved.
The world seemed to slow around her as energy surged through her veins. In an instant, she closed the distance between them, her speed leaving the bandits stunned. Her hand shot out, gripping the scarred man's wrist with an ironclad grip. His grin faltered as her nails dug into his flesh, black energy pulsing from her fingers.
"Get away from me," she hissed, and with a burst of strength, she twisted and broke his arm. The sickening sound of bone snapping echoed through the crater, and the man fell to his knees with a scream.
Chaos erupted. The bandits charged, their shouts blending into a deafening roar. But Enixia was already moving, her newfound strength and speed making her untouchable. She dodged a sword swing, her hand lashing out to grab another bandit by the throat. With a single motion, she tore out his windpipe, blood spraying across the dirt.
Another came at her with a spear, but she ducked under the attack, her claws raking across his midsection. He crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The others hesitated, their confidence wavering as they watched their comrades fall.
"Stop her!" one of them shouted. "She's just one girl!"
Enixia spun to face the next wave of attackers, her movements graceful and deadly. She ripped the arms off other bandits, the bloodied limbs falling uselessly to the ground as the man collapsed, screaming. Another lunged at her with a dagger, but she caught his arm mid-strike, twisting until the blade fell from his hand. Her claws slashed across his throat, his blood painting the air as he fell.
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But no matter how many she cut down, more kept coming. A sword grazed her shoulder, though the wound healed almost instantly. She fought like a whirlwind, her blackened veins glowing faintly with each strike, but the sheer number of enemies began to overwhelm her.
A sharp pain erupted at the back of her head, and the world spun. She staggered forward, her vision blurring as she tried to turn and face her attacker. Another blow came, this time to her side, and her legs buckled beneath her. She fell to her knees, gasping for breath as darkness crept at the edges of her vision.
Through the haze, she heard the bandits laughing, their voices cruel and mocking.
"Stupid girl," one bandit growled, clutching his broken arm as he limped toward her. "Thought you could take us all on?"
Enixia tried to move, but her body wouldn't respond. A boot slammed into her side, knocking her flat onto the ground. The last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her was the scarred man's sneer as he leaned over her.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," he said. "We've got plans for you."
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Chapter 10: The Puppeteer
Enixia's eyes fluttered open to the dim light of a flickering torch. Her head throbbed, and every muscle in her body felt heavy, though there was no pain. Blinking, she tried to move, only to hear the rattle of chains. Her arms were bound above her head, the cold metal biting into her wrists. Her legs, equally restrained, ached from the awkward position.
She looked down, her face twisting in disgust as she realized her clothes were gone, leaving her bare and vulnerable. Bruises from rough handling stained her otherwise flawless skin, but her veins still pulsed faintly black, a stark contrast to her pale complexion. The bruises and cuts began to heal as she gazed over herself. Her stomach churned, fury rising in her chest like a storm.
The sound of muffled voices reached her ears. She turned her head to see bandits milling about outside the cell. They laughed and drank, their crude jokes making her blood boil. Her fists clenched, and a single thought screamed through her mind.
"I'll kill them all."
Suddenly, something shifted. A searing heat flared in her chest, then spread outward like a wave. Her vision blurred, her surroundings growing hazy as a cacophony of sounds and images invaded her mind.
She saw glimpses of memories—memories that weren't hers.
A boy crying in the corner of a dark house, a man's shadow looming over him. A young woman stealing bread to feed her siblings. A soldier deserting the army, running into the wilderness with only a sword. The fragments came faster, flashing in and out like the pieces of a shattered mirror.
"What is this?" she thought, panic bubbling alongside her anger.
The images slowed, and suddenly, she was no longer in her body. Her perspective shifted, and she was looking down at her own chained form—through someone else's eyes. Her surroundings felt distant, her limbs foreign. The body she was in—a man's body—moved jerkily, as though responding to her thoughts.
What is happening? Her breathing quickened, and the perspective shifted again. Now, she was looking through the eyes of a different bandit, their view focused on sharpening a blade. The blade dropped as the body stiffened, awaiting her command.
Her mind snapped back to her own body, her chest heaving. She glanced at the bandit closest to the cell door, a wiry man who had been drinking moments ago. His movements had stopped, his head tilting unnaturally. Slowly, he turned to face her, his eyes empty and unblinking. He took a single step forward, then another, his gait robotic.
"Am I... doing this?" Enixia thought.
She focused harder, and the man approached the cell. His hands fumbled at his belt, retrieving a set of keys. Her heart pounded as he unlocked the door and shuffled inside. Without a word, he knelt before her, his trembling hands undoing her chains.
As the metal bindings fell away, Enixia stumbled forward, catching herself on the man's shoulder. He remained still, staring ahead with vacant eyes. She stared at him, her hands shaking. "You're mine," she whispered, her voice filled with awe and fear.
Her gaze shifted to the open cell door and the other bandits outside. Fury surged again, and she reached for the power within her, now pulsing wildly. It was like grabbing a live wire—dangerous but exhilarating. The memories came again, but this time she pushed past them, diving deeper into the minds of the bandits she had touched during the fight.
One by one, they froze, their faces slack as their weapons clattered to the ground. Then, slowly, they turned toward her, their bodies stiff and uncoordinated. She willed them to approach, and they obeyed.
The first bandit reached her, pulling off his tattered cloak and draping it over her shoulders. Another handed her pieces of armor—a chest plate, gauntlets, and greaves—scraped together from the spoils of their raids. She fastened them quickly, the armor ill-fitting but better than nothing.
As she adjusted the straps, one of her puppets, a young man with a dagger, stepped toward her. The man's arm jerked as though resisting for a moment, but Enixia's power surged, and the resistance faded. The dagger was placed in her hand, the hilt warm from the man's touch.
Enixia clenched her jaw, gripping the weapon tightly. "Let's finish this."
Enixia stepped into the camp, her puppets flanking her. The remaining bandits turned, their eyes widening at the sight of her.
"She's free!" one of them shouted, drawing a weapon.
Another man stepped forward, confused while he gaze upon the other bandits near and aiding Enixia. "What are you all doing? Kill her!"
But the puppets moved before the bandits could react. A mind controlled bandit with the dagger lunged, driving the blade into the throat of a man who had spoken. He fell with a gurgled scream, blood pouring from the wound.
The camp erupted into chaos. Bandits shouted and scrambled for their weapons, but the puppets moved like a tide, relentless and unyielding. Enixia controlled them all, her mind a storm of rage and determination.
One bandit slashed at a puppet's chest, the blade sinking deep, but the puppet didn't stop. It grabbed the attacker by the throat, squeezing until the life drained from their body.
"Kill her!" someone screamed again. But it didn't matter. The bandits fought back, stabbing and slashing at her puppets, but they kept moving, their wounds meaningless. They were hers, and they wouldn't stop until she willed it.
Enixia advanced through the chaos, her dagger flashing in the sunlight. She slashed across a man's chest, blood spraying across the dirt. Another lunged at her from behind, but she spun, driving her blade into his gut.
When the last bandit fell, the camp was silent, save for the crackle of a dying fire and the sound of her puppets moving around. Enixia stood in the center of the carnage, her chest heaving. The ground was littered with bodies—some whole, others broken—and pools of blood soaked the dirt.
She released her hold on the remaining puppets, and they collapsed like marionettes with their strings cut. Their empty eyes stared up at the sky, their lives extinguished, their bodies still. A wave of nausea hit her, and she fell to her knees.
Her hands trembled as she looked around, her gaze falling on the lifeless bodies of the bandits she had controlled. For a moment, she felt sick—disgusted at what she had done, horrified by the power she didn't fully understand. But then her father's face flashed in her mind, and her disgust hardened into resolve.
He had made her this way.He had turned her into a monster.And she would make him pay.
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