The Queen sits above all. It is She that towers over Her servants, looking down upon them with a haughty expression and frigid temperament. Her hair is as dark as the murky abyss of Eternity, and Her soft white skin is as pale as a corpse. Her balanced face oozes uncanny beauty, leaving any who look upon Her with a sense of unease, which is only accentuated by Her irresistible allure, a near hypnotic aura capable of turning the head of any of the hundred’s of species that sheater within the wings of the Federation. Her appearance is one known to rival all that exist within the ever expanding-galaxy, and She’s widely accepted as an unrivaled beauty on a podium of Her own.

Her golden irises dilate as they stare into the distance, and Her expression stiffens slightly as She considers the future and what fate has in store for Her. Aside from the slight changes in Her expression, Her entire body reflects a state of complete leisure. She casually lounges in Her towering bone-white throne, seductively constricting the tip of Her sharpened talon with her thin, forked tongue. Long, curved horns protrude from the sides of Her head, twisting in captivating spirals as they point towards the sky as if to pierce the heavens. Her devilish beauty is further accentuated by Her skin-tight dress, oily in both color and texture, made of a material that seems to have melted into Her skin.

Before the mighty Queen stands endless rows of soldiers, expanding evermore into the shadowy maw opposing Her. Their beastly forms are erected rigidly at attention, their scaled, curving tails frozen stiffly in place, beads of sweat trickling down their horned brows as they force themselves to remain motionless. Their stoic expressions struggle not to crack as they wait in anticipation and distress, not one soldier doesn’t despair towards the coming storm. Beneath their armor, their muscles squirm like thrashing worms, violently twitching as the hours slip by.

A shivering human is suddenly birthed from the darkness beyond. He stumbles down the clear path created for him, hurrying down past the rows of inhuman beasts that refuse to even glance at him. The human’s attire presents arms clearly different from the soldier’s uniform, the embroidered fabric presents a symbol of authority and prestige, yet such power evaporates the instant he enters the Queen’s gaze.

Clutched within the man’s hands is a small metal cube, no longer than his index finger. It glows in a black light, seemingly emitting a dark luster that reeks of otherworldly technology. Lining the surface of the cube, of the box, are minute fridges that form intricate designs and patterns. These symbols are filled with an illustrious blue, a cold color that gives off a faint light.

Nearly tripping, the human finally reaches the end of the soldiers, stepping into the open area before the Queen’s throne. With ragged breaths and sweat beading his brow, he drops to his knees and holds the box upwards, as though presenting a sacrifice to a God in reverence. His small voice echoes endlessly as he lets out a trembling breath, before lowering his head further while opening his mouth.

“Y-Your Highness! We have received a request for communication from Captain Fredrick Walmen! His connection has already been established!”

There’s not a trace of concern on Her face as She looks down on the man. Rather, Her eyes light up and She affixes the box with an expectant gaze. The light dims as She glances at the ambassador, the diplomat sent by Her enemy, or more better known as Her hostage. Her lazy gaze licks across his body as She unconsciously lets out a smirk, the corners of Her lips lifting as She watches him desperately conceal his fear and dismay.

“It’s about time. Let’s get this over with, open comms.”

Her voice is an enigma. Her unconcerned words carry an undertone of sadistic pleasure, while conversely ringing with youth and child-like sincerity. The two opposing timbres, one of insatiable lust, the other of innocent cheerfulness, morph into a magnetic leash that binds the hearts of all who hears it. Her words ripple outwards, buffeting the sturdy forest of bloodthirsty warriors, staggering their hearts as their breathing grows rough.

Without thinking, the human diplomat’s fingers set to work, tinkering with the box resting within the palm of his hand. The cube releases a low humming as it begins to vibrate, establishing an encrypted connection across the emptiness of space, attaching to it’s waiting partner. Instantly, a large figure fills the air, slightly transparent as his formal uniform burns red, the golden metals attached to his breast glimmering in a radiant light. The burly man stands stiffly. His back is straight, as if someone has shoved a steel bar down his spine, and his arms are clasped firmly behind his back, his hands concealed even to the camera. With an expression stiffly lacking in emotion, he addresses the young woman in a restrained, husky voice, his lips trembling ever so slightly as he forces himself to change his words as they burst from his mouth.

“Ae--Your Highness! I’ve come with a reply! As per our agreement, no matter my words, Ambassador Joo must not be injured!”

The lounging Queen raises a single curved eyebrow as She flicks a disinterested gaze towards the trembling man below Her. Looking back at the Captain Her eyes ignite once again with emotion, leaving those watching her from afar in a state of extreme anxiety. They obviously see the Queen’s expectant expression, see the confidence she radiates without realizing. A pit seems to form within the chests of the spectating soldiers as their hearts palpitate while being sucked into it. Dread floods through the crowd.

“Haaah… The Council that I represent has concluded that--!”

Hesitation. It only lasted a fraction of a second, a millisecond at most, yet all but the Queen felt the faintest flicker of hope bubble within, only for the embodiment of despair to crush their prayers to oblivion.

“The People of Earth will not surrender to you or your armies! We will not bow before the false ruler claiming to be Queen! Your position as Heir has long been relinquished, and we refuse to acknowledge your title!”

A raw outburst of fierce determination and energy erupts from the man’s expression. The uneasiness that has been shackling him vanishes the instant the words surge from his mouth, and a righteous light drowns out the complicated emotions filling his eyes. At the end of the declaration all that remains is a hardened war veteran, an aged captain that has stood at the side of royalty for generations. His heart is still. Any lingering attachment to the girl before him has dissipated, swept away like sand in the wind.

Silence.

Cold, sharp, silence.

None dare breathe. None dare blink. A stifling stillness so suffocating it’d be more comfortable drowning in spoiled milk has locked the entirety of the standing army into paralized stillness. It is solely the Queen that moves. Ever so slightly, She casts a faraway gaze towards the distant ceiling of her ship, a towering structure formed from interlocking plates, leaving rhythmic patterns along every surface. The light within Her eyes has vanished, now replaced with a look of ridicule. Her face twitches. Faintly, like a subtle perfume wafting through the air, the Queen’s expression shifts. Her expression looks rather lonely. A sense of heartbreak and agony bubbles beneath Her skin, barely concealed yet still capturing the hearts of all before Her in a vice.

Her face twists an instant later.

Her heart convulses as Her insides twist into a raging, mind-numbing inferno. Hellfire scorches Her innards as She jolts to Her feet, face twisted into an expression of absolute malice and hatred. Her golden eyes lock on the man before Her. That familiar, foolish, prideful man. He unconsciously flinches, never before seeing such a venomous glare directed towards him. The Queen’s face contorts into something horrific. Her lips try to move, but She finds Herself incapable of speaking, raw magma constricting her airway, leaving her choking in hatred. In a fit of maddened rage, She storms from Her seat, stomping down the steps of Her raised throne in a violent march. Reaching the floor, She moves behind the throne, storming towards the massive window that looks out into the expansive universe. In the corner of the window, a little blue planet can be seen, weak and defenseless. The fleets of ships that shield the planet are nothing compared to Her ship, which is big enough to have it’s own gravitational pull.

Standing before the window, The Queen’s head snaps around. Tear-filled eyes lock onto the man’s bewildered gaze. Her eyes boil with a mixture of pain, fear, anguish, hatred, and love, emotions powerful enough to be felt through the holographic transmitter. In an instant, his expression twists from one of confusion to one of pure terror as he watches Her delecate hand, the very hand that wrapped around his finger the day they met, the very hand he held and adored in a far-away world during time lost to age, reach out and point to the planet that stands in Her way.

Before he can beg for forgiveness.

Before he can plea for mercy.

Before he can regret his decision.

The Queen’s agonized voice shatters the crushing silence, cracking from the pain of surging emotions.

“Ruination!”

Hell erupts with a click of her fingers. For a moment, all that ever existed was darkness. A void of emptiness that consumes all. One which devours all life with an insatiable hunger. In the next instant, a blinding light sears itself into the fabric of reality. It is colorless. Empty. Hollower than the void itself. Such light gives birth to the present, and the ruination of the world is finally permitted to be witnessed.

What was once a bright-blue planet in a sea of blackness is nothing more than a crumbling ball of dust. The surface of Earth collapses in on itself, folding over and over, like a worn piece of paper. There are no explosions. No flares. Only a silent stillness as the planet slowly atomizes. Reality bends as the galaxy itself weeps for the loss of billions.

The girl watches the destruction she wrought with a hollow gaze, her face an impassive mask. No emotion is visible. She’s nothing more than a soulless husk. She is finally alone. He that once gave everything to her has been destroyed by her very hand. Her arrogance is gone. Her anger has vanished. All that remains in its place is a frail, empty girl trapped alone in a universe that seeks to destroy her. The power she once sought for the unification of everyone, has orchestrated the ruin of countless. Realization surfaces within the blankness of her thoughts. There is no doubt in her mind.

Ruin will one day descend upon her as well.

“Cut! And that’s a wrap!”

A voice, drunk with ecstasy and brimming with anticipation, tears the hazy sorrow apart in an instant. The terrifying stillness vanishes into nothing as the hologram set flickers out, leaving roughly 50 people standing before the cameras in detailed costumes. The actors stand stiffly, their rigid expressions remaining long after the filming ends. Every person in the general vicinity has their eyes glued to the lead actress, who is carefully extracting herself from her character with her eyes closed. Her brows furrow ever so slightly as her expression only for any sense of unease and discomfort to vanish the instant she opens her now silver eyes.

Now that the hologram stage has vanished, the special effects applied to all the actor’s costumes have disappeared as well. The oily dress she previously adorned now looks more solidified, and the horns, talons and tongue that merged with her features have vanished without a trace. The extras on set remove the uncomfortable bits of their costumes with the help of their stylists, who rush on set with the rest of the staff to check footage and disassemble the props. Mandatory maintenance is performed on any prop or piece of equipment that requires it, leaving a bustling atmosphere as the crowd surges to wrap the day up.

While chaos erupts on set, the star of the show easily retreats to her personal seat, which is directly next to the director’s own. Behind her the extras are swept off their feet as they’re called over by the scurrying staff, not one person spares her a glance, too afraid that such actions would be seen as overstepping their bounds.

“How does it look?”

The woman’s tone has undertaken a drastic shift from the despair induced, hateful sorrow of before. Now it rings with brisk professionalism, a cold voice that matches her cold expression. The director doesn’t seem to hear her words as he rewatches the scene again and again with the other members of the staff, a maddened glimmer in his eyes as he stares at the screen. The actor grimaces as she sinks into her chair, a flash of annoyance flickering through her eyes only to instantly fade into nothingness.

With a start, the director suddenly double takes, looking to his right at the magician that somehow perfectly pulled off his insufficient directions. He reaches out with greasy palms, shaking the woman’s hand with a tearful expression as he babbles like a child. The producer and scriptwriter wipe tears from their eyes as they smile proudly, failing to see the look of disgust and revulsion that fills the woman’s expression the moment her hand is touched.

After an excruciatingly long moment, the director finally regains enough of his reason to release his star’s hand. He takes a step back with a refreshed look filling his face, eyeing her meaningfully in the process.

“I was sure back then, but casting you was the best decision in my life! This movie will shatter all records in the history of film! I’m sure of it!”

“Really now? I wish you the best.”

The director doesn’t bat an eye at the woman’s lukewarm response. He also fails to remember that, in reality, he had no choice in who was casted. If she wishes to participate in a movie, nobody in their right minds would ever try to reason with her. Nobody cares enough to remind the director, though, and he dives into wonderland without looking back, lost in his childish dreams of conquering all movies that have ever existed. Though she doesn’t agree with his claims, sticking to her image as a professional, the woman chats with the man for a while longer, in the process reinforcing his wicked dreams like a dealer providing drugs to an addict.

The young woman leaves a few minutes later, retrieving her belongings and changing her outfit with the help of the staff. She is tailed by her manager as she exits the studio, who has already cleared the rest of her schedule, as per request. With awe thickly lathering his words, his relaxed voice rises up from behind her.

“Miss! That was amazing! I know I’ve seen you act a handful of times, but I’m seriously impressed every time I watch you perform! Your movements and expressions and, and overall demeanor always match the character to a T! It’s as if they’re actually here in the flesh! You must be the greatest actor to walk the Earth!”

“Stop with the flattery, Geralt, I find it repulsive. As for whether I should be upset being compared to an unhinged madwoman who murdered her last remaining family in a fit of rage, I’ll leave that up to you to decide. You know how I feel about family, after all.”

The man’s expression stiffens, and behind her, his footsteps noticeably slow. Giving a dry cough to clear away the tension, he jolts a little and picks up his pace. When he’s a few feet behind her, he finally manages to stammer out a response.

“A-Ah well! I was simply saying that the character, uh, was really well acted! I think you did, a-a good job picking out this movie! S-So, um, good job!”

As she listens to her manager stumble over his words like a toddler just learning to walk, the hint of a smile creeps across her face. Amusement dances in her eyes as she imagines his panic and desperation, as he’s most likely recalling the endless list of past managers that lost their positions for less serious reasons. Finished having her fun, she suddenly halts, calling out over her shoulder in an expectant voice.

“Is my sister done with her shoot yet?”

“I-I’m sorry, Miss! We wrapped up faster than scheduled, so she’s not finished just yet! If you’d like, we could head over to the studio and wait for her? There are snacks in the car if you’re hungry…”

“Very well. Then we shall wait for her.”

Without another word, the young woman continues on her way, heading to the luxurious parked not too far away. Her expression briefly flashes with a look of anticipation and desire, as brief as a surging flame. Since he’s behind her, she completely misses the terrified expression that suddenly surfaces on her manager’s face. His face is ashen white, and he instantly finds himself short of breath. As he nearly stumbles, he can’t resist the urge to release his sentiments to the wind. Mumbling under his breath, in a voice not even he himself can hear, he speaks the words that have lodged themselves in his brain.

“Strikingly similar…”