Page 21 of Their Blood Queen
We hope.
We pray. Or at least, the rest of my family has always prayed.
Not me. I know that our fate is one of our own making.
The past years have been good for my family. Many candidates are selected by compatible monsters, proving that my father’s tactics in genetic manipulation, mental conditioning, and environmental factors can work well.
And they’ve also given us enough points to survive.
“Bribes,” I mutter to myself as I unravel the ribbon securing my book, then open it as I sink into my writing chair. I curl a fluffy robe around my shoulders as I settle in to write.
Flipping past sketches of monsters and men along with their written impressions I’ve made, I ignore images of various family alliances and enemies—honestly, there isn’t much difference between the two—and skip to a blank page.
I’ve never written an entry on my brother or my father.
“That changes tonight,” I say as I accept the sinking feeling that my own family has now entered enemy territory.
They aren’t my friends.
They’re yet another political pawn to be watched.
The game has begun.
And if I’m forced to play… I’m going to win.
CHAPTER 5
CAIN
“I’m not broken.”
Those fierce, quiet words clothe me with the sanctity of a prayer as I allow myself to fall asleep inside my chambers. The broken window lets the chill night air in, but I’m now no longer in my physical body.
I let my beast out. I let him hunt.
The Dream Realm is a hauntingly beautiful place. A low rumble creaks across the broken ground, sending vibrations into my large form that I easily read.
Each new dream, each new shift and change, sends a shiver through me, and I catalog every single one.
And rivers of blood freely flow. I can’t drink from them, despite many efforts of trying. They run with powerful undercurrents, threading through various territories like the veins of a living creature bigger than even me.
I respect the Dream Realm, and in return, it nourishes me.
My view is limited to those who have given their minds freely to me. After this many years and the growth of my influence, much of the Dream Realm is open to me.
The sky is dark and cracked like dusty glass tossed in volcanic ash. It snows a soft black residue that melts into my skin, giving me little tastes of the dreams running in motion around me.
I follow the path I’ve made over the years, a solid obsidian road of hardened glass that grows with each new dream I encounter.
Cain, bless this family.
Cain, my lord, my king, honor us with your oversight and guidance to harvest a worthy crop this year.
Prayers make my mouth water, and my beast sucks them in, but he’s not distracted by the tasty morsels.
He’s on the hunt for the first true meal he’s had in years.
I prowl across vast distances of the ethereal land in search of Scarlett Nightingale. Parallel worlds curl up into the sky and form hills. I can see various buildings, villages, and landscapes created by each individual dreamer.