Time: 04:58, Day: J??shrim, Week: 3, Month: K?rgoyde, Year: 36651

  “Why have I been summoned from my quarters so early?” Queen Syren furrowed her severely wrinkled brow, as her lady-in-waiting assisted her onto her throne. Syren smiled widely, noticing the cart of Foundation Stones, though her brittle body was too stiff for her to properly show her excitement.

  “Gligior has returned with a new shipment, but there were some. . . Complications, your majesty.” A tall, nearly emaciated man with pale skin, clothed in pitch black cloth armor, knelt at the bottom of the steps to Queen Syren’s throne. A burly red haired dwarf stood behind him, his hands on a cart full of various Foundation Stones. The Foundation Stones hummed and vibrated, almost sounding like crickets on a cool forest night.

  “Complications?” Syren asked, raising a brow and relaxing into her throne. Her bones creaked and cracked as she shifted.

  “Yes, your majesty. It seems that Gligior and his Miners have finally reached Aranthu's tomb.” The nearly emaciated man spoke, his deep voice coated in silk.

  “Get to the point Alzarine, I've already been awakened far too early and this brittle body of mine is testing my patience. Do not push me further.” Syren hissed, her patience wearing thin.

  “The Dark Elf is trying to tell you that we're going to need some help collecting the Souls Vials. Most of my crew were wiped out, almost as soon as we broke into the tomb. Some thing completely drained and dried them out. I can get more Miners but we Dwarves aren't meant for that kind of fight. Whatever it was floated through solid stone like it was nothing. A black shadow of menace. Having an affinity for Stone Magic doesn't exactly make us hard for that thing to deal with.” Gligior interrupted, his gruff voice echoing through the throne room. The scent of death, decay, and blood permeated the air almost masking the scent of the Queen's own decay.

  “Ah, so you require assistance to collect the vials. Well Gligior, you shall have whatever you require. For now I shall send you with four Court Mages, and a small squad of soldiers. Just be sure to collect every single vial, or I will be the one to drain you and your pathetic Miners of every last drop of your Essence.” Queen Syren said with a sadistic smile, “And Alzarine, take note of how Gligior got straight to the point, and use that for reference in the future. Test my patience again, and I will have your soul. Is that understood?”

  “Aye.” Gligior responded, rolling his eyes.

  “Yes, your majesty, I will ensure to keep my reports direct from now on.” Alzarine said, still kneeling with his eyes to the floor.

  “You disapprove, Gligior?” Syren asked, sitting up a little in surprise at the bold eye roll of the Dwarf.

  “Just don't see the point of taking the threats of a brittle Queen to heart. Your point was made without it.” Gligior said with a chuckle under his breath, “Does the snarling of a wounded wolf frighten you?”

  Queen Syren sat up further, her darkened emerald green eyes glowing faintly, “You are a bold one Gligior. I may be a brittle Queen, but I am no snarling wounded animal. This body may be breaking down, but I assure you my power is still intact. Test me if you must.” Syren's wrinkled cracked lips curled into a predatory smile as her eyes narrowed.

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  “Take your stones, Lass, and have your troops meet me at the gate. I've no time for games when there's gold to be made.” Gligior said with a huff before turning to leave the throne room.

  “Mm, little Dwarf, if only you possessed power that matched the ruthlessness of your tongue. I’d make you mine.” Syren said, watching closely as the Dwarf left her throne room.

  “Even on my worst days, shagging a corpse wouldn't interest me.” Gligior said just as he was leaving.

  “Alzarine.” Syren said, relaxing back into her throne.

  “Yes, your majesty?” Alzarine answered quickly.

  “Have the stones in my throne replaced with the new ones, and find me someone delicious. The ferocity of Gligior’s tongue has made me. . . Hungry.” Syren smiled wide, her bottom lip cracking and leaking black blood.

  “As you wish, my Queen.” Alzarine said before standing, nodding to the Queen, and going to push the cart of Foundation Stones closer to the throne.

  Syren's lady-in-waiting helped her from the throne and back to her bedchamber.

  “Lyra, what do you think of Gligior?” Syren asked her lady-in-waiting, once comfortably in bed.

  “Well ma’am, I believe he is out for himself above all else. With no respect to any sort of authority, but that gives him an edge that almost makes him desirable.” Lyra said, her hands clasped in front of her, her dark black dress pristine and embroidered with gold.

  “I believe in my younger years, I would've bedded him, and probably wouldn't have killed him. A man like that, who speaks his mind with no regard for rules and respect, is one worth keeping. At least for a short while.” Syren said, sighing, “But I'm sure, he would do the same as that Beast God, and deny me.”

  “Not to be rude, ma’am, but the Dwarf did deny you.” Lyra spoke softly.

  “No, Lyra, he denied this brittle shell. Do you truly think he would deny me, in my glory?” Syren asked, sounding like a lovesick school girl.

  “No, but he would still lack the respect and dignity required to be by your side.” Lyra spat.

  “Oh, I do recall you saying the same about the Beast God.” Syren smiled, thinking fondly of the only man to ever deny her.

  “And I was right. Not only did Kelevra deny you, but once he freed the enslaved Demons and Devils, he vanished.” Lyra said, her leather gloves creaking as she tightened her fists.

  “Yes, until the Nephalem found him. Now, he galavants with her, pretending to be a hero once more. But I know the true monster that lies within his soul, and that darkness is what I loved about him. Still love about him.” Syren sighed, a sadistic loving smile on her face as she rubbed the three diagonal scars on the left side of her chest, “It truly pains me that the Beast God must die, for my heart still yearns to carry his pups.”

  “You're better off having him stuffed and put on display, my lady.” Lyra said, her venomous words thickly coated with hatred for the Beast God.

  “Oh Lyra, you say the sweetest things.” Syren giggled through ragged breaths, “Do you think I could save the best part of him as a toy?” Syren's smile widened, thinking about the Beast God's impressive endowment.

  “Only if you must, but I feel that you could do better than a doggy dick, my Queen, no matter how big it is.” Lyra said, scoffing.

  Queen Syren’s laughter echoed through the room. It wasn't a joyous sound, but the sound of a predator planning its prey’s demise.