Queen of the Underworld

The shine in everyone’s eyes glowed a different light upon her first step out of the spacious wooden podium. After the actors rushed out to give way for her grand entrance, a small smile crept up her red-tinted pair of lips. “Her Majesty, Lady of Aristokrátes, Loyal subject of the Temple of Doom, and Queen of the Underworld, Elisa Alynthi.” The lengthy introduction put a sour taste in her mouth, but she managed to stay still. Zariya tilted in her direction and offered a palm, which the doe-eyed woman willingly accepted. The blind maiden of the temple led her to the middle of the platform, where the flashing lights showered and reflected upon her flowy pitch-black hair. Despite the awe and applause engulfing the enclosed theatre, the air remained heavy as anticipation started to escalate. Her gaze circled each frightened face in the audience, terrified of the performance they had witnessed. And the fact that she was standing there with a raised chin and a confident demeanor added up to their wonders. If sharp gazes could kill, there was no doubt that her frail body would shatter in pieces on this floor at this very moment. But she didn’t come this far only to be stared down by those vile nobles like that. “I, Elisa of the House Alynthi, would like to confess my sins in front of His Highness, my husband — King Artin Ellesmere, the Royal Council, the dignified women of the Harem Sphere, and the people of Káto kósmos.” Her raspy voice echoed back and forth, causing a few whispers that abruptly stopped when she cleared her throat for her following revelations. Not even the pleading face of her father at the side of the stage faltered the fiery desire rushing through her veins. “I would like to be judged as a sinner who has been a helpful instrument behind the elaborate plan to dethrone the Demon King.” Her words carry such heaviness that even she couldn’t hear her voice nor the truth that her mouth was currently spouting. Her eyes were pinned at a single sight as she continues her tragic narrative. Seated in the high balcony among the other Royals, with an unfazed visage and intense gaze locked at her, was the man her heart belonged to. She watched as Artin slowly raised the tip of his mouth. It certainly wasn’t a smile, not even close to his usual condescending smirk. But, as always, she has no other way to read his mind. “Eli, stop all these. Please.” The Archduke, her father, tearfully begged on top of his lungs despite being apprehended by the royal guards. She wasn’t facing his way, but his trembling voice sent a chill up her spine. Instead of looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes, Elisa shook her head to dispel his request. “You don’t need to do this.” “Above all else — ” Before she could finish the highlight of her announcement, an arrow dashing out of nowhere pierced through her chest. And then, as soon as she fell on her knees, another one struck on her left shoulder causing her to cough blood. “Artin is — ” She tried to fight it, but her tiny body frame eventually gave in and toppled the ground while screams and sounds of running footsteps rang in every corner of the grand theatre Artin built for her as a gift. The gold silk dress decorated with his favorite flowers, ranunculus, was now soaked with her blood that flowed to no end. Amidst her blurring vision, she used all her might to tilt her gaze up and meet his blank stare. In rhythm with the throbbing pain in her chest was the cold man's darkening visage and tightening jaw. When he finally tried to crack a smile in the middle of all the chaos, only bitterness and wrath were glistening to his pair of tantalizing blue eyes. “You’re free now,” the King of the Underworld scornfully mouthed. “Selfish woman.”