A maid stumbles over her own feet, rushing through the halls. Panic in her chest and agony painting her dress. Behind her a man’s sing song laughter fills the still air. Every now and again his voice catches and the sound becomes cackling. Steady footsteps follow her hurried ones. A horror movie compared to her life before this. Nothing about this job is what she thought it would be. No amount of money would keep her here. She’ll be lucky to leave with her life. Her feet trip again, throwing her to the floor. A dagger whizzing where her throat had just been. The same one that manages to keep a sob stuck in place. The blade skitters across black linoleum.

“Aren’t you lucky? You can keep running if you wish.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. If she were naive the satin in his voice might tempt her. However, she knows honey and butter don’t make for a good meal. No sooner has he finished his words is she rushing for the elaborately detailed knife. Stopped short by a sharp stabbing pain in the back of her left knee.

“Looks painful. I can end it.”

He towers over her pitiful form. Another intricately detailed dagger twirling between his skilled fingers. A smirk sharp as the weapon in his hand splaying on his face. How someone with such delicate features can be so heinous she will never know. Still her spirit will curse him just as those who’d been slain before her.

“You will suffer for the things you’ve done and lives you’ve taken.”

“Tell my family hi when you see them.”

A swing of his arm and her throat pools red down the front of her clothing. His free hand grabs hold of her hair, using the knife to ever so gently pluck the eyeballs out of the skull. There’s precision in the way he works. Tehe result of years of experience. A guard who happens across him merely looks away.

“Sire, Lady Ellisieve is asking for you.”

“I don’t care. Make an excuse if you must. I’m playing.”

“Y-yes Sire.”

“Don’t do it again if you value your life.”

“He won’t. However, my Lord, the queen is in a frenzy.”

“When is she not? Do as I said.”

Two pairs of feet march off. For a split second he catches his reflection in the blade where the blood hasn’t reached. A set of purple eyes staring back at him. He contemplates willing the color away. Choosing instead to finish what he’s doing. The entire castle already knows that his eyes go from brown to purple. What they don’t know is that there’s another color to them, or rather appearance. One that only shows itself under extreme emotional exertion. Rare, but possible. The last time he’d seen them that way was when he took the throne.

“You’ve guests darling. Won’t you come see them?”

“Ellisieve my love you’re annoying me. I’m sure it can wait.”

“They’re persistent. You have duties to fulfill or I’d do it myself.”

“Very well then.”

He rises to his full height, the deceased maid forgotten for the time. Whoever is here, lucky enough to not be his victim. In a matter of seconds he makes being bloody dignified. No one questions if he wants to clean himself. This a normal occurrence here. They simply fall in step behind him. He moves with ease and grace. A small ring of people stand in the center of the throne room and upon his arrival their eyes widen.

“Gentlemen, I hope this is important. I hate to be disturbed while hunting.”

“My lord there are tensions amongst the people. They worry about the health of those exposed to the remnant chemicals that seeped into the soil from Hyle Labs.”

“What of it?”

A young boy, no more than 12 to the eye steps forward. His skin brown in some places, aqua in others. What’s most surprising is his hair. None of it is actually hair, instead it appears a waterfall is growing from the boy’s head.

“This is Saiyel. The skin color he started getting a month a go. His hair did this this morning.

“He doesn’t seem bothered.”

“His vision is gone. So he is not-”

“I’m fully aware of my situation. My vision is a complicated matter.”

“Lord Valier, there must be something you can do.”

“I’m not seeing the problem.”

“Some of the mutations are volatile. Violent if you will.”

“Then put them down.”

“They’re just children, sire.”

“I’ve given you a solution take it or leave it.”

“But, Sire.”

“There’s nothing to do about the chemicals seeped into the soil and water. Unless you stop growing crops and drinking the water. What’s done is done. I apologize my king, for the disturbance.”

Saiyel turns to leave, stopped by the hand of one of the elder men.

“This is not your decision, Saiyel.”

“Will you mop up the water and blood after I’ve drowned you here? I’d really hate to inconvenience the king.”

“Smart boy. If you’ve nothing else, then leave. My patience is wearing thin.”

Once they leave Valier strides away . His mind lost in thought. Ellisieve is quick to follow him back through the intricate halls of violet decorum. Somehow her heeled feet match his pace. The gentle clicking echoing off the walls.

“Darling, where are-”

Her words hang haphazardly in her throat. There on the floor, unmoved and still pooling blood is the maid. Every inch of her face carved into.

“Will someone dispose of this. It’s of no use to me. And is an eye sore.”

Several cleaners suddenly appear in the hall. As if they’d been standing there the whole time. All of them moving swiftly to remove the dead woman’s body and the blood from the floor. A spark swims in his eyes as he recalls the event. Gone just as fast as it came.

“Surely, you’ll notify the family.”

“For what?”

“Valier, they’ll ask questions.”

“That’s on them. I don’t care how they feel.”

“You’re being stubborn and arrogant.”

“Ellisieve, don’t push me. You wouldn’t want to end up like my family would you?” since it bothers you so much you can do it. If you’re done whining about it, leave me.”

He stalks off the stone walls drawing back away from him. Tapestries of violet material barely escaping the burning of his gaze. What would appear to be a random series of doors down an otherwise confusing set of left and rights in the halls that appear more zigzagged leads him to the room he’s looking for. He slips inside with the ease of a cat slinking around for food. Except there’s nothing here edible or otherwise worth staring at unless you’re him. The floor is covered in dried blood, a bed toppled onto its side, bedding shredded, down suck to the floor in some places unable to be blown away. An ashen mark covers a large portion of the wall on one side of the room. The air is musty and reeks of death. And yet standing here in the midst of it all he can do is laugh uncontrollably. Eyes shifting between brown and purple uncontrollably.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!? YOU COULD HAVE BEEN BADLY BURNED!”

A woman with strawberry brown hair rushes in to pull him away from the wall that he’s lit ablaze, checking him for any signs of burns. Anything that says her child is suffering from an injury. Nothing of the sort shows on his skin, but in thin brown hands she finds a knife. One that should be meant for the kitchen

“Mother, did you know it’s easier to kill a person when you’re closer to them?”

“Did one of the maids leave a-”

Her voice trails off, tears welling under dark brown pools as she notices the bed shoved aside. Only slightly covering the body of a recently hired maid, her blood seeping into the ground beneath it. She frowns before collecting herself and turning to the burgundy haired boy. There’s panic in her chest, but even she knows if she’s not careful she’ll join the poor woman on the floor.

“What has mommy said about playing in the castle?”

The boy smiles sheepishly, grabs his mothers face and drags the kitchen utensil across her eyes. The second she starts screaming he drops her unceremoniously to the floor, crawling over her to continue carving her face. As her screams heighten it draws the attention of his father and several guards. All appalled with his actions.

“Valier! That is your mother!”

“Please, I don’t exactly need her. Now do I?”

The man pales, steps closer, and reaches a hand out to his only son. Instead the teenager nearly slices the mans wrist off. A growl like that of a wild animal leaving him. Full lips draw back around teeth that occasionally look too sharp for his own mouth. The older man tries again, only to have his child jump him in a fit of furious rage.

The laughter slowly subsides. Gaze capturing himself in the dust of an old mirror someone left behind. There it is plain for anyone to see, that is if they were around. His eyes are entirely gone. Non existent, as it would seem, but he can see perfectly fine. The empty space where electricity dances where his eyes should.