Phantasmia

Prologue

"Be ye saint or sinner?"

The young woman's frail figure hung weak from the arms of the giant mindless men, a wisp of girl trapped in royal gowns; her stark white hair scattered and blocked her face from the world.

"I said...be ye saint or sinner? Answer quickly before I'm forced to take your pretty little head for my collection!"

One of the mindless men grasped the woman's hair, yanking her head sharply upward, and he spoke in a mindless, melancholy voice. "I'd heed word, madam, else your throat should meet the queen's blade. I've seen it happen many a time."

The woman's eyes rose in painful gingerness to view the Red Queen, who sat surrounded by gold in her royal throne. The room was menacingly dark as tar, save for red lights to either side of the queen, illuminating her taught, pinched face in bloody adoration. The queen's empty red eyes met the woman's, and glowed a deeper red than the lights surrounding her, and she cackled at the woman's fright.

"She fails to speak! She is mute, she wishes herself dead!"

"No..." The woman's voice was weak, pleading.

"What's this, child? You wish to speak?"

"No...I am not mute." Her eyes longed to blink, to turn away from the wicked depth of the queen's gaze, but they remained focused in a sudden pang of bravery.

"Then, child...if thou are not mute...then what is your answer? Saint or sinner?"

There was a silence from the woman, in both voice and face. There was no answer that would satisfy the queen; she knew this. There was nothing she could say to appease the kingdom head's desire to kill all in her path. Surely she was doomed. There was nothing she could say to twist minds and ensure her freedom; so the woman simply told the truth.

"I am neither saint nor sinner. I am both saint and sinner. I am nothing. I am everything. I beg mercy, expecting nothing."

Deathly silence. The men looked to the queen, perplexed, unsure now of how to treat the prisoner; if she had pleaded saint, they'd have left her to the dungeons to await punishment. Sinner, they'd have taken her to the prisons for further use. This, this had no set standards, no forced arbitration, and they were at a loss.

The queen retained her regal dispose, the corners of her mouth arching into a meager smile. She was amused with this young woman, to be sure, and it was clear that she had made up her mind.

"Good answer. Set her free."

The men's jaws dropped, confused, but ever mindless in their eyes.

"You heard me. Set her free. She is of no use to me yet. Let her breathe while she is able. I enjoy the struggle. She will return. Of this we can be sure."

The young woman attempted to speak to the queen, but her thoughts, her throat, they held nothing, and she soon found herself outside the castle. She was left there to her own devices, lost and helpless. Finally, realizing what had just taken place, she cried out in agony and despair.

"I dare not face this dreaded place again! Where are you?! Where are you, why do you not come?! They promised you would come when the time was right. The time is right...this must be the time. We can not go on. Please come for us! We need you!" She fell to the ground, sobbing ice cold tears that stung her hands and melted into the ground, sizzling and dying with a hiss. From the dead tears sprung sudden flowers, white and pure, and she looked upon them as a blessing. She peered to the sky, and closed her eyes, wishing as hard as she knew to wish. Hoping against hope.

"We need you."