Chapter Eleven: The Queen Comes
The hum didn't just grow louder — it thickened, like the air itself was vibrating. My teeth ached. My vision blurred at the edges.
"She's close," he whispered, backing toward the far wall. "Don't look at her eyes."
The floor pulsed under my feet. I felt it in my bones, a slow, deliberate rhythm that made my chest tighten in sync. Resin dust trickled from the ceiling, each grain catching the faint light as if the air was holding its breath.
Then she stepped into the chamber.
The Queen's form shimmered between human and something far greater. Her skin gleamed like wet obsidian, her limbs too long, her presence filling every inch of the room without moving. Her eyes — black and endless — fixed on me, and for a heartbeat, I couldn't remember my own name.
> Come to me, her voice whispered — not in words, but in scent and pulse, deep in my bloodstream.
The man shoved himself between us. "Don't listen!"
Her gaze slid to him, and I saw his body tremble, the edges of his plates flickering in and out as if his shift was tearing him apart.
"You think you can hide her from me, broken one?" the Queen's voice dripped through the chamber, layered and unhurried. "She is mine. She always was."
Her hum flooded my head, drowning out thought, replacing it with something warm and heavy. My muscles loosened. My feet took a step toward her before I realized I'd moved.
"Fight it!" he shouted, grabbing my arm.
His hand burned against my skin — not from heat, but from something else, something alive. The hum faltered. I gasped, the fog thinning just enough to think.
"Choose," he said, his voice harsh. "Come with me now, and we run. Stay, and you'll never run again."
The Queen tilted her head, a faint, inhuman smile curving her lips.
> Choose me, she breathed.
Two heartbeats.
One choice.