Creatures Of Aegis

"They are not going to cross the south door, Dracae. Think sanely!" said a wrinkly faced old man, stretching his hand to pull the shining sword out of the thick brown wooden surface, embedded in the bloodied soil. "Dusk is only a few steps shy from rising in its full glory. We shan't stay here anymore."

A murmur escaped the crowd comprising hundreds of dwarf Bunyips, whose soccer like shape-shifting pitch-black eyes were strained on the cracks of the giant rusty metallic gate. There was a raw fear which stank the breeze above the area of Fuathland for the half a century in number of bunyips who crossed the door– their footsteps never returned. A petite woman– on the verge of entering in early twenties, dressed in a crimson fabric shifted on her foot and took a step near the murmuring huddle of crowd. Her powerful contour glowed in dominance as a blanket of silence passed the crowd upon taking in the glinting crown on their Queen's head.

"There is something unusually different about today's dusk, Gregori– for a flicker of hope is trying to find it's way amid the cluster of bad omens. We should wait for a phase longer, " smiled the bunyip queen, showing a hopeful glint in her black orbs which added a new shine to her perfect diamond-shaped face.

"What a waste of such a beauty!" A young man suddenly appeared from behind the crowd and neared the queen, who stood– holding her ground, "wouldn't it be unfair to let a young skin like you get away– without fulfilling a lad's desires and needs!" He had wavy salt white hair and wore a dark emerald puffy coat with high black boots. A high merchant.

"A face of a goddess, the brown curls like a satin blind licking the cold breeze, a body to be worshipped and. . .locked inside an abode for a lad's possession. But she is standing here on the battlefield, waiting for the monster to devour on her flesh– how injustice." A young man stopped a few inches before the queen and gazed at her with a predatory stare.

Wrinkly old man balled his fist while shaking with anger but before he could thunder at the man, the queen shot a menacing smile at the merchant and began circling him, "a body of a soldier, eyes like a prince but a brain to be crushed at a maid's feet and the possession of your egoist words which demands to be chopped off and fed to the stray creatures–" queen stood facing his fuming form as her smile grew more poisonous, "–how injustice!"

As soon as she finished her words, the merchant drew a hunting knife which was studded with precious stones and roared with a burning hatred in his eyes, "a woman should know her place, fool lady! And if she denies to bow down in front of his master. . .her neck should be sliced off her body."

The queen without flinching from the intensity of anger– the merchant was reflecting, pulled out a sword from the hilt on her shoulder which was formerly covered by an oversized cloak and escaped the first strike by her opponent's side, with a narrow blink of an eye. The crowd had already retraced and thinned out along with the wrinkly man as everyone was known to the fact of better stay at bay when their queen was fighting.

She smiled smugly, flashing her pearl-like teeth which seemed to fuel the burning rage inside merchant's limbs, furthermore. And in the heat of the fueling anger, he committed that mistake which queen wished for. She didn't try to block the merchant's second strike as the sharp tip of the knife slashed through the queen's bare arms, making a dash of crimson blood sprout out from her wound. But the menacing smile didn't fade from her face, if anything, it grew wider. She sensed her.

Just when the merchant's blood-stained knife lept forward, cutting the sighing breeze with a gush– a rumble echoed across the large door. It was a low rumble, clearly from a distant source but the familiarity of the voice was enough to make each element of fuathland– froze. Only then, the merchant realized where his destiny has led him.

He slowly got on his knees and with trembling hands, placed the knife on the ground– a futile attempt, as destiny never spared any of the sinners. Each step which the queen took towards the merchant, screamed pre-death! She peered down at the young man and with the tip of her now guarded sword, forced the man to straighten and meet her into eyes, "a man should be aware of his surrounding before imposing his void dominance on a woman as 'she' certainly is not only bound to be chained in abode but to be set free with chin out and head held high, " Her charcoal coloured eyes slit into horizontal partitions as the lower part of her retina glowed like a ruby band, "and if a man denies giving her woman that place beside him. . .his throat should be sliced off his body."

The young man trembled, begged for his release but his destiny was written– for his hands were coated with the blood of the queen of 'fuath realm'.

Meanwhile, the roaring voice of a furious creature travelled through the gate, shaking the bricks which were holding the gate straight. Above them, the cloud rumbled at the exact moment when new dusk settled over the horizon. The almost negligible twinge in the ruby stone of her bangle made her aware of her presence and already known to the ultimate result of delaying, she clutched the merchant's nape in a life-sucking grip and dragged him towards the gate. The tugging and scratching at the other side multiplied suddenly as the creature caught the coppery smell of the blood oozing from the queen's wound. A signal, a final step, to leave the young man at the mercy of his destined death.

Without delaying further, the queen traced a pattern in the air, in front of the door– a shadow moved from beneath the gap making the merchant cry in horror, "I beg your pardon, queen. S-She is near–" He never got the chance to complete his sentence as in a swift motion, the queen threw him by his neck towards the opened crack of the gate.

For a few seconds, his agony filled cries filled the area which suddenly got replaced by the loud shrieks of a lady. There was no doubt lingering in the air, everything pointed towards the end of the merchant.

Unaware of their own destined paths, the crowd began to disperse to leave the bloody soil but the queen's dominant voice made them freeze their steps, "the fight has not ended yet, my people." She turned towards them and after a moment of gazing at each of the bunyips, her feet left the contact with the land as she hovered above them.

"The man is dead, she already killed him. What more is needed to be done, queen?" Asked a dwarf bunyip, pulling the yellow cap from his head.

For a moment, there was silence. Soon the heavy silence dissipated as a determined statement flew through the queen's plump lips, "the sacrifice of hundred bunyips– for the sake of fuath realm's existence."

Before the bunyips could get a moment to take in their leader's words, an unfamiliar and terrifying sound emerged from the partition of the giant gate, grasping everyone's attention towards itself. From the partition came a grinding noise, a howl of hunger, a roar of thirst. The hazy reverie shattered down when a smoky figure surged through each pore of the gate, breaking and destroying it behind. At last, what remained on this side of fuathland was a ruined and crumbled metallic door and the frozen limbs of hundred bunyips.

Queen's own stunned state reflected the clarified danger– she had not expected this amount of destruction. A name passed her now dry lips, accompanied by an exhausted sigh, "Scylla. . ."

And then from the smoke emerged a blurry figure about 12 feet tall, circling the ruins. Following the enormous figure, six snaky heads appeared one at a blink, their appearance– seizing the breath from each living soul. Just when the heads began hissing at their audience, twelve tentacle-like limbs sprouted out of the cylindrical body with a cat-like tail– thence adding the terrifying attribute to its already horrendous appearance.