The Fall of the Empress
-THUUUUUD!-
A dull thud resonated in the arena, a dry reverberation that left no room for doubt. Qiyana, her Ohmlatl spinning in her hands, watched her older sister, Inessa, collapse to the ground, her body bruised, an expression of defeat etched on her face. The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, a chorus of acclamation that vibrated in the air and in Qiyana's heart. She had won. Again. Victory was a sweet nectar she always craved, and this time, the sensation was even more intoxicating. The title of the strongest, the most skilled, was hers. She had not only defeated Inessa but had once again proven her superiority over the other elemental masters. Glory enveloped her like a cloak, and with it, the unwavering certainty of her destiny: to rule Ixtal.
The following days unfolded in a whirlwind of celebrations and recognition. Her name was on everyone's lips, a reverent whisper that turned into a cry of admiration. The council elders, previously hesitant due to her youth and impetuosity, now looked at her with cautious, almost fearful, respect. Illusion weavers created projections of her victory in the skies of Ixaocan, and bards composed odes to her power. But Qiyana, though pleased with the adoration, felt that this was only the beginning. She didn't just want fame; she wanted the throne, absolute power to guide Ixtal towards its true greatness, a greatness only she, the Empress of the Elements, could achieve.
One afternoon, while practicing in her private courtyard, she sensed the presence of Nalai, one of her sisters. Nalai, always with an enigmatic smile and a gaze that seemed to see beyond the obvious, approached with an air of importance. "Sister," she said softly, "a meeting has been arranged. We will all be there. It's important." Qiyana raised an eyebrow, curious. Meetings between sisters were common, but the formality in Nalai's voice suggested something more.
Upon arriving at the meeting hall, Qiyana found all her sisters seated around a low table, adorned with jade flowers and crystal goblets filled with a shimmering liquor. The atmosphere was unusually solemn. As Qiyana took her seat, her sisters observed her with a mix of admiration and, to her surprise, a hint of barely disguised envy. It was a feeling she was familiar with; she had lived in the shadow of her older sisters for years before completely eclipsing them.
"Sister Qiyana," began Lyra, the eldest, her voice usually severe but now strangely soft, "your recent victories... are impressive. You have demonstrated a power we have rarely seen." A murmur of agreement swept around the table.
"Your elemental mastery surpasses any of ours," added Elara, the most academic, always measuring her words. "You are a force of nature, Qiyana. The destiny of Ixtal is in your hands."
Qiyana listened, satisfaction bubbling in her chest. This was what she had always yearned for: the recognition of her power, the confirmation of her superiority. But she also noticed a strange insistence in their words, a subtle pressure she didn't quite understand.
It was then that Nalai, always the most spontaneous and sometimes the most eccentric, arrived with a tray laden with goblets filled with a deep amber liquid. "Enough serious talk and flattery!" she exclaimed with her contagious laugh. "This calls for a celebration! To our sister, the strongest, the Empress of the Elements, Qiyana Yunalai." The last word, her own name intertwined with their surname, made her smile. It was a gesture of affection, an acknowledgment of their bond.
Nalai offered a goblet to Qiyana. The aroma was sweet and spicy, and the liquid shimmered with a tempting light. Qiyana took it and, at her sisters' insistence, drank it in one gulp. The liquor was warm and smooth, a taste that spread down her throat, leaving a pleasant sensation. She laughed, an uninhibited sound she rarely allowed to escape.
But as the liquid settled in her stomach, a strange sensation began to spread through her body. The warmth transformed into a tingling, and her mind, previously sharp and focused, began to spin. Her sisters' voices became distant, as if speaking from the bottom of a well. The hall began to spin, shapes distorted and colors blended into a confusing vortex. She felt heavy, her eyelids closing without her permission. She tried to focus on her power.
TIIIIINK! CRAAAAAASH!
The glass fell onto the marble with a sharp clang, followed by a thunderous shattering, as fragments of glass scattered across the floor. Hidden smiles appeared unseen as they heard the fall of the beautiful yet delicate glass onto the marble they had trodden.
The sound forced her eyes open. Her vision was still blurry, but she could make out silhouettes. Dark, strange shapes, in guard uniforms and helmets covering their faces. These weren't her sisters. Confusion transformed into a spark of fury. What was happening? Why were they entering the room? She tried to get up, but her muscles didn't respond. It was as if her body no longer belonged to her. Anger ignited in her chest, a furious flame fighting against the heaviness that invaded her. Did they dare… to enter the hall, to interrupt her celebration? She tried to scream, to invoke the strength of the wind, the power of the earth, but her lips barely moved, and only a weak groan escaped. Darkness, thick and sticky, enveloped her completely.
THUMP!
The last thing she heard was a dull blow to the back of her neck, a brutal push into the void. A dull ache throbbed in her head, a constant drumming that dragged her back to consciousness. Qiyana blinked, the light filtering through her eyelids was faint and diffuse. A persistent dizziness kept her anchored, as if her mind was trapped in a whirlwind. She tried to focus her gaze, but everything was a blurry smear. Slowly, three silhouettes began to take shape, imprecise figures hovering over her. She didn't know who they were, or where she was. Confusion intertwined with fear, a strange and alien feeling for the proud Qiyana.
"Look at her, the great Empress of the Elements!" a harsh voice full of contempt boomed, "Looks like her power isn't so great when she's not in her little golden cage!" The words were like daggers, each piercing her pride. Fury, that familiar flame, ignited with searing intensity. How dare they! How dare they speak to her like that!
HOW DARE YOU!!
One of the figures moved, and suddenly—
SLAP!
—a sharp pain exploded on her cheek. The impact of a slap. A metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.
Before she could even formulate a response, another figure lunged at her. Dirty, brutal hands began to roam her body, a nauseating and violent sensation that made her shudder. Disgust rose in her throat. She tried to move, tried to defend herself, but her limbs didn't respond. An icy chill ran down her spine as she realized: she was chained. The cold metal of the chains encircled her wrists and ankles, and a feeling of helplessness engulfed her. She looked at her bonds in desperation, expecting to see the shimmer of the magical seals she used to nullify her opponents' power, only to discover that, in fact, there were symbols engraved on the metal, strange glyphs that pulsed with an oppressive energy. Anti-magic seals. Her elemental and physical power, her very essence, was silenced.
In the distance, blurred in her peripheral vision, she saw her Ohmlatl. Her weapon, her extension. It glowed with a faint light, mocking her from afar, unreachable. It was as if the runic world was scoffing at her impotence.
"She's already paid for," the third voice, calmer and more ominous, broke the silence. The figures abusing her stopped abruptly, like puppets whose strings had been cut. A shiver of terror ran through her. Paid for? What did that mean?
Qiyana was dumbfounded. Her mind, despite the dizziness, struggled to process the information. Was she... was she being sold? The idea was so absurd, so outrageous, that it almost made her laugh. But the laugh caught in her throat.
Despite everything, she was still wearing her ceremonial attire, adorned with her jade and gold jewelry, her impeccable makeup highlighting her eyes. But the contrast was brutal: the fine fabric of her tunic showed dirty stains and grotesque handprints, as if they had been forcefully pressed. The sight of her own degradation filled her with uncontrollable fury. A raw, rage-filled scream burst from the deepest part of her being.
AAAAHHHHRRRGGGRRRAAAHHHHHRRRRAAAAGGGHHHH!