The knight rode his steed into the cold, dark forest. The chill of the night air stealing away his warmth with hungry gusts. The slushy, wet snow squished beneath the horse's hooves with each powerful gallop. Armor clinked and shimmered under the moon’s dry, white light. Trees slammed past as the two ran into the forest, deeper and deeper with no intention of turning back until the task was completed. The Queen’s words weighed heavy on his mind and he could feel the burden of failure like an iron bar across his shoulders.

Soon the knight could hear the song of running water, and the sight of a half-frozen river greeted the pair. The leather reins groaned with the pull of the knight and the horse slowed to a stop, bobbing its head up and down. Puffs of the horse’s warm breath swirling into the air. The knight swung his legs over the side of the saddle and hopped off into the snow with a hushed thud. He looked around apprehensively, then walked towards the water, grabbing something out of his pocket. He dropped to his knees before his reflection, a shimmering silver glimmer amongst white. Slowly, he pulled off his glove and placed a small object into the center of his hand. With a final look around, he let the circular ball roll into the icy water.

The request was peculiar, and dangerous and downright absurd. But who was he, a simple knight, to deny the Queen? Royal blood flowed in her veins, she was so precious to her people it might as well of been rubies that flowed within her. The knight had been roughly awoken that morning, long before the sun was set to rise, to see to an audience with the Queen. Confusion and a slight drop of terror roused him to a fully conscious state. “What does the Queen what with me?” He questioned, sleep still had a grip on his voice. The ruddy servant boy just pointed to the knight’s boots and motioned for him to follow.

The knight threw off his blankets, wincing at the cold that immediately clung to him and stepped into his boots clumsily as he called after the boy. “Wait! Slow down!” The servant boy scuttled away around the corner, nothing but the sounds of his shoes scraping on the stone floor any indication he was actually there. “It’s too early in the morning for this,” the knight grumbled angrily under his breath and jogged to catch up to the boy. After narrowly loosing boy around numerous twists and turns they arrived before a grand, polished door. The sheer size of it dwarfed the height of even the most formidable. Gems and mother-of-pearl created the most breathtaking mosaics that glimmered in the torchlight, casting sheens of color around the walls that encapsulated the doors. With a small grunt the boy pushed the doors open resulting in the scrape of wood against stone.
The scene before the knight opened as slowly as the doors did. The Queen sat at the far end of the room, dressed in lavish satin that whispered across her skin. Her delicate, gold crown sat upon her head and her pale hair spilled past her shoulders and kissed her back. The servant boy motioned to follow, and the knight walked forward with heavy steps. The lush scarlett carpet underneath his feet flowing toward the Queen like a river. She sat upon her throne with dignity and grace, looking down on the two before her. Her lips tugged into smile, “My condolences for awakening you so suddenly, but it seems these matters at hand are quite urgent.” Her voice was smooth and rich, with just a hint of an accent. The knight could barely pin it before she started speaking again. “You are Jonah son of Kade, am I correct?” She stood up from the throne and began to walk down the small set of carpeted steps before Jonah. Her long gown dragging behind her in pools of creamy satin.
Suddenly, Jonah’s tongue seemed to feel like it was made of lead. His palms began to shake and sweat, and he quickly hid them behind his back. The queen noticed, and snickered quietly, “Nervous? There's no need for that.” She stopped dead in front him and held out her palm before him. “I’m nothing compared to what you’ll face soon enough,” her tone turned dark and quiet. Jonah didn’t want to look but curiosity nagged at him like the chills of winter. Resting in the center of the queen’s pale palm sat a pearl. It was about the size of a marble, and it glimmered in the firelight. But something was entirely wrong with it. Instead of being blindingly white, it glowed with a red as deep at blood.
“You know exactly what you have to do, don’t you? She whispered. The instant Jonah’s eyes fell on the pearl he felt a wave of dread wash over him. Everyone knew the tale. Parents told it to their children as they sat around campfires shoving gooey marshmallows into their mouths. Beggars told the story to anyone who could spare a coin. The tale of the blood pearl. The queen rolled the red pearl around in her hand, watching as it shimmered. “I know you’ve heard the tales and believe them to be Childrens stories. But it is real. As horrifying and unbelievable as it might be, it is real.” Jonah couldn’t move. The color from his face had drained and his mouth had become dry. He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “No, no I can't,” he took a step back from the queen his face twisted in horror, “that’s a fool’s errand.”
The queen took another step to stand in front of Jonah again, but this time she reached for his hand. As much as Jonah wanted to snatch his hand out of her grasp he let her open his fingers and place the pearl in his hand. As soon as it touched skin, it turned as iridescent and white as an angel’s wings. “You have until nightfall to destroy it before it destroys all of us.’