I have been writing this for a few years, but never thought that I could ever complete it. It is still not finished.
The Queen sits quietly waiting for you to seat yourself across from her. She watches you with black eyes, that burn into your soul. She only looks around thirty or forty, but you know her true age. You've seen her before, but only at a glimpse, you were eight then. Her hair is snow white, and flows down her back, almost reaching her knees. Her skin pale white marked with black tattoos everywhere. Ones with screaming faces seem to stare out to you, crying for you to free them from her poisonous skin.
You've heard stories about her. Her wrath, her power, her heartlessness, and her grace. She is not worshiped, but honored. She is stronger than the others. You were always told to call her, "Queen," but that never felt right to you. You always just called the Queen "Her". Nothing more nothing less. You knew somehow that you should hate her, and act as if you love her like the others. But you didn’t, you only questioned her power.
You finally work up the nerve to step closer to her. Even though ever fiber in you is telling you to run away. But, if you don't, she might do something to you.
All the sudden you find yourself sitting in the chair across from her.
You try to keep eye contact, but you feel if you do, your eyes will melt in your skull. Or you'll die.
"Look at me, Ophelia!" She says quietly but it seems like the loudest thing you have ever heard. You look at her, your heart sinking inside you.
"Becoming a Torian, is not a goal to set, and don't you dare idolize me, I'm not really a very good role model." she states bluntly, like you haven't heard it from your dad enough.
You don't answer, you only stare blankly at the wooden table, that has turned black under her touch.
"So... " she says. You look at her. She seems childish, but not. Mature, but so, so, stupid and reckless. You're not sure why, but you think she is quite annoying, and less fierce and yet more so.
"It's going to be hard to believe, but I'm practically your grandmother." she rolls her eyes and sits back into her seat, seemingly relaxed, but you can tell she's as stiff as a board, and feigning everything external. Then you focus on her words, as they echo in your vast mind. Her words seem dirty, like they were never meant to be touched or heard.
You don't react. But, you are utterly astonished inside. It does, in some perverse and terrible way, that she could be the mother of either your father or mother. But, which one?
Your face doesn't give away your thoughts, you act as though you already knew. Remembering training yourself to do so in front of Torians. Especially the ones with powers. You remind yourself again.
She starts to speak again, and you listen in close, not wanting to interrupt her. There have been consequences for that. And you know what they are.
"I know what you're thinking. I'm insane, I already knew that. I'm a murderer, it's been said to the point of annoyance. You get it, no you don't. I should get help, there is none. Can I hear myself? I wish I couldn't. Why am I talking to you about my problems? I'm not, because, my problem, is now yours."
She lets you process what she said, before you come up with an answer that will be suitable for the situation. You focus your mind on the last sentence, then it all clicks.
The reason you are here, the reason your father looks like he's your younger brother, the reason your aunts and uncles marvel over you, 'The One Who Is' they call you. Sometimes you even hear some of them whispering 'born of a Livin' you know what that is. The ones who have mortal lives, the humans. They age every day. You don't. Your body grows and ages slowly, while your mind zooms beyond its real age.
It's been 100 years. You only look about16, maybe younger.
"What does this problem mean that you speak of?" You say elegantly as you articulated the speech you learned from the oldeTorain's.
"You talk so old for such a young one." she laughs lightly and smiles a very odd smile, you can't quite tell if it's scary, intimidating, happy, or likable. You decide on a mix of happy and scary, for she seems to have fangs of some sort.
"Elegancy is not to be used now, I'm quite serious about this 'problem' of ours." She says.
"There's something you're keeping from me. I know, I've heard. They all whisper and talk about me behind my back. What is the secret this world is holding from me?" You stand up, in annoyance, her games are getting on your nerves.
Her eyes widen.
"Ophelia, I am not here to hurt you, or to punish you, or kill you. But I am here to teach you about yourself, and about what you are going to face." She stands also and puts a hand on your shoulder. She looks you straight in the eye. Her face is serious, her eyes yearn for you to sit back down and talk. But, you don't want to talk, you want to run, far, far, away. You know you can, and you know she can't catch up, she's too heavy.
Your ready to bolt, but something grabs you and pulls you to stay on that God forsaken spot.
"What the..?" You feel as though your will has been taken from you. Your power is gone from making that decision. You know what happened, you've seen it before. Her, taking advantage of your weakness.
She takes her hand off your shoulder, and steps back to the table fiddling with her chain belt. "I don't like doing that to you, anyone," She says coldly. "but in order to get anything done I have to control you like animals. But, I think that if God didn't give me this power no one would be so afraid of me." she shakes her head, making her white hair shimmer and go into her face. "You have it too, you know..." She looks down at the table sadly and scowls, like remembering a confusing puzzle.
You're struck by that. She knows I have power. She freaking knows.
"How? I mean, how am I this way?" You ask.
She turns to you, and gives you a stern look. Then she says, "Because you're the next Queen."