The smell of human blood permeated in the air, soaking through the ground, coloring everything Paris has ever known. When she opened her eyes, she saw not in color but in varying shades of red. All around her, the splashes of paint created a mess no one could scrub off for the million years to come.

Then, her gaze landed on the center, where a pile of severed limbs and deeper pools of blood lay. One of them was a groaning head, still attached to a neck, shoulders, and torso. Paris, through the film of red, deduced the head's hair must have been blond. Now, the yellow had turned into a flimsy shade of orange.

What a pity.

The eyes still roving around in the head glanced at her in fear. Its lips moved in a silent prayer or something to keep its wits inside it. Paris...was that her name? She didn't know anymore. It didn't matter. Anyway, the eyes seemed to be looking somewhere behind her and not at her. What's behind her? What could be behind her that was scarier? More...hideous?

"Great Gahaliel, save us. Have mercy on us," the head's lips muttered, too weak for a normal human to hear but loud enough for her.

She turned only to come face to face with the rearing mandibles of a Jezer'thokth. Red dripped down the sharp bone before streaking to the ground in slow, thin drolls. Some part of her brain told her she should be afraid, that she should be cowering and begging for a deity's help like that pathetic head behind her. But...why would she?

These creatures were her kin. They were her children.

She had nothing to be afraid of.

Instead of stepping back, she inched forward. Her arms extended towards the Jezer'thokth. Behind it, at least ten more lurked in the shadows. Then, there were the interesting ones. A Zor-karyen, with its wolfish head and straight ears, sniffed the ground with its superior sense of smell, no doubt looking for its pack or something to chew with to pass the time. The curved horns of a Shaalim'nun glinted against the Woods' thin streams of light. Its red eyes seemed eager to find something to bump its horns against.

Loud caws and huge flutters of wings from the Vuur'gainoth could be heard overhead. They must have been circling atop the canopies, waiting for a chance to dive in and feast on the carcass of their prey. They preferred dead, decaying humans, after all. Accompanying the scathing shrieks were the distant hiss of the Askh'roth, the snakes. With their giant frills and long and deadly sharp fangs, oh, they were a sight to glimpse at. Too bad they were as elusive as the light.

And lastly, pawing the ground by the foot of the pavilion's steps, was her favorite creature. The Xath'drahg. She didn't know why, but she had developed some sort of admiration for these regal creatures.

How could anyone kill them? How could the humans think they could harm her children, driving them out of their home with primitive sticks and sharp thorns. They killed her children, chopped up their limbs and traded their bones like war spoils.

Unacceptable.

Paris—or at least that's what she thought her name was—reached out and laid a hand on the Jezer'thokth's mandible, giving it a little stroke. It chittered with a sound she had never heard before. Wasn't a shriek. More like...a purr.

"You've waited a long time for me?" she asked. Even though her children couldn't speak in the bumbling human language, they replied with their own hoots and calls. Now, she understood all of them without stumbling. She knew what they wanted, what they were hungry for. They craved human flesh.

Paris turned to the muttering body. It lay among its kind but it seemed to be the only one who could still open its eyes, let alone speak in chants. The rest were just swimming without aim. In pieces, of course. She couldn't remember what happened for them to end up like that. Did her children surge in and gobble them up? Maybe. Did she do that herself? Also maybe.

Which one did she prefer? Oh, how about both?

A manic chuckle rose from her gut. She turned back to the Jezer'thokth who asked her if it could have the guts untouched. "Not yet, my dear," she cooed in answer. "I'll have a word with it first."

Just like that, the Jezer'thokth backed away. Then, it hissed to the others and they slunk back into the shadows. She chuckled. Such wonderful children, they were.

She glanced back at the human still doing its best to cower. How could it, when its limbs were reduced to bleeding stumps? The fear flickering in its eyes was real. Raw. It seemed to be afraid now...of her.

She basked in the satisfaction its fear brought to her veins. This was the true power they so truly desired—the might to inspire fear and command obedience, the sheer magic dancing in her veins, enough to control legions of the darkest creatures. It was the power of the gods. No, even stronger than that.

It was the power of an Ancient One.

And no one would be able to harm her or take anything from her ever again. No one.

The head's incorrigible muttering became annoying now. She needed it to shut up. Preferably forever. So, she strode towards it, letting her muddy boots glide over the shallow pool of blood. Just the smell of it was disgusting. Human blood often was.

"I admire your tenacity, human," she said aloud. The tongue felt strange and heavy against her tongue. She preferred speaking in her children's language, after all.

The face, instead of bursting into tears, crumpled into a disgusted grimace. "Don't kid yourself, wench," it said. "You're every bit of human as I am."

She had never heard of such blasphemy before but she sure was offended. "I am an Ancient One," she hissed. "I cannot be one of you primitive monsters."

"But you once was," the head retorted. Shouldn't it be busy dying by now? "You once hunted and killed the creatures you call your children. You're one of us."

"Beings can change," she said. "I changed. I might have tolerated your kind for the past years, but now, this is me."

The head had the nerve to laugh. It was a strained laugh, though. "That blood will kill you eventually, Paris," it said, referring to her by her...old name. "It will burn everything you are, down to that stupid grin."

"I know the only thing that could stop me," she whipped forward and closed her fingers around the head's orange-ish hair. "Where is the rest of the angelic blood? I'm sure you've kept stock. There might be more lying around in the kingdom. Tell me and I might let you live."

The head quivered. It seemed to be convulsing but apparently it was trying to turn from side to side. "You will die in suffering, Paris Lerring," it seethed. For a dying thing, it sure was talkative. "You and your minions will not outlast time. There are others out there who could stop you. Mark my words. Whatever you're trying to build will crumble when a stronger force reveals itself. You will—"

A sharp spike skidded out of her arm. Her face didn't change when she swept her generated blade at the head. More red stained her vision. The rest of the body plopped down, just a bag of meat for her children to enjoy. Remaining on her fingers was the head. Its eyes were forever frozen in a look of horror. Hopefully, it enjoyed the final minutes of the life it was desperately clinging to. And it sure delighted her that she was the last thing it saw. She'd live down this corpse's memory until the end of days.

The head thumped to the ground and rolled to a stop by the nearest Jezer'thokth's legs. "I brought you dinner," she smiled and stepped out of the way, gesturing to the feast she had prepared. "Enjoy your meal."

A torrent of dark bodies surged past her—all hungry, all tired of waiting. Bones crunched. Flesh squelched. It was a feast for her children. They have been waiting for this their whole lives. Now, no one would harm them. Like her, they were free.

Then, her eyes fell to the one body her children weren't eating. It was of a woman with brown hair. A dagger stuck out from behind her but she wasn't bleeding red. Gold rivulets covered her corpse. It was a familiar shade.

Something throbbed in her chest. It was probably an organ called the heart. She didn't even know if she had one. But, whoever she was before her shift, that person must have cherished this woman. She must have shared something special with her but it's all too blurry now. Nothing remained but a few snippets of smiles and warmth. In a place of hatred and cold fury, those were foreign concepts.

Paris had only known loss and pain. This woman, though....she showed Paris what being alive meant.

"An honor," she said to no one. Perhaps, the wind was listening. Or one of her children as they munched on a hand or two. "This one deserved honor, at least."

Her children watched her haul the corpse away. They didn't like it anyway. She made it out of the pavilion and dragged the cadaver towards the nearest tree. Then, she pointed to one of the Jezer'thokth. "Dig," she commanded.

It leapt to action. Two or three more joined it in their given task. Soon, a human-sized hole caved in at her feet. She tossed the corpse inside, going as far as arranging the bloodied clothes around its body and crossing its arms over its still chest. Even in death, this human shone like a thousand suns.

She shook these sentiments away. All these humans were the same. They all die too easily. This woman...she might have drank the angel's blood but she still met the same demise. Betrayed by her own people. Just like her.

So, she stepped away from the hole and instructed her children to cover it up. It was a command that was followed quickly. As the rest of her children trailed after her out of the pavilion, she whirled back. Magic burned against her fingertips and raged in her system as she sent forth dark tendrils of energy. They slammed into the rock and the shingles in one huge explosion.

Debris and fog rose up from the ground. When it cleared, the pavilion was no more, along with it the cursed symbol of the angels. That's what that star stood for.

Now, it didn't matter. No one would be able to stop her from this point forward. No one.

She turned to her children who waited for her fury to subside. They stood at the ready, prepared to follow her next order even to go with her to the ends of the world. Humans left humans all the time even with a binding promise.

But she would be different. She would be everlasting. She would be forever.

From this point onward, she would be the queen of the darkness, of the shadows, and of the Woods.

Now, she would be the queen of demons.