Kneel Before Me

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken terror. The weight pressing down on the council chamber was suffocating, their knees digging into the cold stone as they struggled to breathe. The torches along the walls flickered violently, their flames shrinking, cowering.

No one moved. No one dared.

Only Lyria stood.

The chains that once bound her lay at her feet, useless, broken. Power throbbed beneath her skin, the abyss curling in her veins, whispering secrets only she could hear. It did not beg for release—it knew it would be freed in time.

She turned her gaze downward, her eyes settling on General Marlowe. He trembled, his teeth clenched, his fists pressed to the floor in a desperate attempt to resist the force pinning him down. But there was no resisting him.

The monster who had bound himself to her.

Lyria felt his presence beside her, steady and unmoving, a shadow darker than any abyss. The golden glow of his eyes burned into the chamber's walls, and though his face held the ghost of a smirk, his amusement was laced with something darker—something possessive.

These people had dared to put chains on what was his.

They had tried to break her.

Now they knelt before her.

The moment should have felt surreal, a nightmare twisted into something unrecognizable. But as Lyria stood above the highest-ranking commanders of humanity, watching them shudder under the weight of her monster's will, she felt only one thing.

Satisfaction.

Marlowe, though nearly crushed beneath the force, still managed to lift his head. Fury burned in his aging eyes, but it was a dying ember against the storm raging before him.

"This... abomination..." He wheezed, the veins in his neck straining. "You let it control you."

Lyria stepped closer, her boots clicking softly against the stone. Marlowe's breath came in short bursts, but he refused to look away, refused to accept his defeat.

She admired that—his stubbornness. Once, she might have respected it.

Once.

Her voice was quiet when she spoke. Too quiet.

"You don't understand, do you?" She crouched slightly, tilting her head as she looked into his bloodshot eyes. "This is not control." Her lips curved, the faintest trace of a smirk playing at their edges. "This is devotion."

Marlowe recoiled as if struck.

Lyria lifted a hand, her fingers brushing over the golden insignia pinned to his chest. A meaningless thing, a symbol of authority that no longer held power here.

"They sent me to die," she murmured, tracing the edges of the insignia with idle curiosity. "They sent all of us to die. Disposable soldiers. Sacrifices."

Her fingers tightened. With a slow, deliberate motion, she ripped the insignia from his uniform, letting it fall to the ground between them. The sound of metal hitting stone echoed like a death knell.

Marlowe bared his teeth. "You would turn your back on humanity?"

Lyria exhaled softly, her breath warm against his skin. "Humanity turned its back on me first."

Behind her, she felt the shift in the air—the ripple of power, the sharp, electric hum of something uncoiling.

Her monster.

His presence swelled, golden eyes flickering with something dark, something deep. He did not like hearing others speak to her this way.

They should have been begging for her mercy.

Instead, they dared to defy her.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, barely restrained, a warning that sent a violent shudder through the room. The walls groaned, the torches flickering once more as the very foundation of the stronghold seemed to tremble beneath his will.

Lyria felt the energy pressing into her skin, the quiet fury crackling in the air, and it was exhilarating.

He was angry.

Not at her.

For her.

She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. For a moment, no words passed between them—only a silent understanding, a connection forged in something deeper than mere loyalty.

He would burn this place to the ground for her.

But she wasn't done playing with them yet.

Her eyes flickered back to Marlowe, watching as sweat beaded at his temple.

"What's wrong?" she mused. "You look uncomfortable."

Marlowe's nostrils flared. "You've doomed us all."

Lyria's smile didn't falter. "I suppose that depends on how you define doom."

She turned away, straightening, letting her gaze sweep over the others still kneeling. High-ranking officials, commanders, strategists—people who once held the fates of thousands in their hands.

Now, they were nothing more than trembling bodies at her feet.

"Stand," she ordered.

It wasn't a suggestion.

The abyss whispered with approval as, one by one, they obeyed. Their bodies trembled, their legs weak, but they obeyed. The fear in their eyes was delicious, intoxicating.

She could feel his gaze on her again, watching her with the same hunger, the same quiet amusement.

She is learning, his expression seemed to say.

And oh, she was.

Marlowe rose last, his chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven breaths. His soldiers flanked him, though none dared meet her gaze.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, Marlowe's voice cut through the silence. "What do you want?"

Lyria tilted her head. The answer should have been obvious.

"Everything."

A flicker of movement—her monster stepping closer, standing just behind her, his presence a dark, unshakable force against her back. His voice was a whisper against her ear, low and possessive.

"And what will you do with everything, my queen?"

She smirked, her fingers curling at her sides.

"Watch it kneel."

Marlowe's face twisted, but he held his ground. "You think you can rule the abyss?"

Lyria's gaze darkened. "No."

She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder at the monster who had waited for her, guided her, and unraveled her until there was nothing left but this.

A queen.

"I think it was always mine."

The room pulsed with the weight of her words, the abyss surging, responding. Her monster's smirk widened, satisfaction glinting in his golden eyes.

Lyria turned back to Marlowe, taking a step forward, power crackling beneath her fingertips.

"And now…" She smiled. "It's time you learned your place."

Marlowe's breath hitched.

Then, the abyss swallowed the chamber whole.