Quilliene stared with a dull expression down at the black pit beneath her. She was steaming - quite literally. It was rolling off her form in waves. The only sign of life from her was the determination set in her gaze that told the world she would not die. However, the power-sealing magickal artefact on her arm made her weaker with each passing moment.
The shapeshifter had returned after a short time away perhaps an hour ago. She wasn't sure of the time - there was no clock in her prison. He was tampering around inside the rather large cocoon-shaped bomb, making quite a racket that annoyed Quilliene. However, something strange soon distracted her.
Some kind of mist was forming at the entrance of the hall, swirling in a dark husk of shadows. It floated up to the contraption, streaks of red sparks running through it as a whispering was heard. The hammering stopped, and the shapeshifting man dropped down from above as a black hawk. He landed on an overhanging bar in front of the fog, transforming back into his masked form.
Quilliene sat up as the whispering grew louder, but still unintelligible. "Yes, I know," The shapechanger hissed, causing the whispers to seem agitated. "No, I haven't forgotten… No, you're right…" His voice rose sharply. "I will not underestimate him!"
"Him?" Quilliene asked.
She almost regretted her decision of speaking when his head snapped in her direction. He scoffed. "Your brother. Who else?"
"Neo," She said casually with a glare.
He threw his head back laughing, and the mist whispered again. His gaze locked back onto her, or at least she presumed it did. "Not quite so. I dropped him off a balcony - he's probably getting buried unceremoniously right now. Or, perhaps, experimented on for his strange abilities. Wouldn't that be joyous?" The fog murmured agitatedly, and he growled as he turned his head to it. "Stop ruining my fun. I have not forgotten our deal, trust me. I'm just… throwing a little spice in." He grinned.
"Christopher will find me," Quilliene hissed.
The shapeshifter smirked. "I'd love to see your dear brother even try to save you. However, I wonder if he even cares? Last time I saw him, he was sleeping soundly." He smiled again, flashing his sharp canines. "I'm sure he's glad you're out of the way. After all, he will be the king, despite being the bastard of the family."
Quilliene's eyes fell as she scowled, millions of thoughts and voices in her head all racing at once. Give in, They said. He's right, They said louder, deafening. You'll never escape. Her gaze became dim and unfocused, before she felt a surge of uncontrollable magick burst from her body. The armband tightened and zapped her, making her flinch as the magick was wasted.
"He won't come for you, your majesty," The shapeshifter continued. "Nobody will. After all, nobody wants a spoiled brat as a queen."
She held back her tears as she raised her head. "You are wrong," Quilliene said while her regal tone still held strong. "You will never win. Say what you wish, your lies are only whispers in the shouts of those who will come. They will do more than kill you - they will be your worst nightmare. Your deals and debts will not suffice to save you."
The man sneered, looking at the mist. It whispered something more, still unintelligible, before wisping away back down the hall. He growled, glancing at Quilliene before shifting. As a bird, a dark falcon, he flew back up into the rafters. The queen rested against the cage bars, hunger biting at her - her magick would only sustain her for so long. With a sigh, she hoped she was right. She prayed that someone, anyone would come… and she pleaded with the gods that Neo wasn't dead.