The Wicked Witch Queen 🩰

Meet the Witch Queen. Entertainer of the upper echelons of society. She is not what she seems.

They only see the parts of her which she allows them to see. Just look at them she muses...the coy smiles, the coquettish pretense of interest, fawning over me as if I owe them any loyalty. I see through them...the greed, envy and loathing for one another 's fame and glory - all trying to ingratiate themselves into my circle of trust.

I loathe them so.

I smile prettily...All the while thinking of horrible ways to get away with their murders... fantasies of death which play around in my Mind. That dark place - filled of censure and threats of imprisonment. Each step draws me closer to something black-hearted...always lurking.

I am a Queen dancing with Kings...

They come all dressed to impress~~~to woo a lovely queen.

🩰🩰I promise to dance with the Flocking politicians, kings, tzars, wasted, drunken celebrities, the rich and spoilt fucking, fracking, fawning host of gullible fuckers.

I blind their eyes...devour them as we dance. I eat them whole. Arms and legs struggling to become free, bits of limbs clawing their way from my silken frock, my stomach walls...everywhere. I trap and beguile them to their deaths.

Come, my pretties. Queen called to her children. Come and feed.

Out would pour a river of black hearted vampiric witches and warlocks, black hearted children hungry for blood and flesh.

They devoured, they danced, until fully sated.

Then the river of offspring would flow back from whence they came...the witch would vanish, the Queen reemerge...the lovely maiden ready for the next feast.

🩰🩰AAHHH, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Idiots, greedy dastardly dummies.

Send them all, the crooked, warped and power crazed shitheads. I am the answer to the puzzle.

Deep within the Ebon Hollow, shadows laugh at secrets. The Queen of Witches hosts her grand masquerade twice per month. Time bends in her ballroom of thorns and silk, and music is made from the sighs of old spells.

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This is no ordinary chamber...it’s a contradiction come to life.

Architecture - Vaulted arches curve like ribs of a slumbering beast, adorned with lies that twitch at moonrise. The ceiling sways gently to the rhythm of lust, power and greed.

Walls: Lined in silken drapes and stories - some heroic, some horrific. Behind them, thorned vines pulse...growing tighter with each lie spoken within the room.

Floor: Obsidian tiles hiding spilled secrets. Between the tiles, thin tendrils of living thorns creep, retreating for those who dance with purpose. Step wrongly, and the floor bites.

Lighting: Floating lanterns cradle captured moonlight, each one dangling from strands of hair harvested from time-lost witches. Their glow shifts with the tempo of the waltz...warm when the dance flows freely, icy blue when danger coils.

The Air: Heady with myrrh, burnt jasmine...and the trace scent of ink and iron. It caresses the skin like silk but weighs heavy with unspoken fates.

Enchantments run rampant. Time folds...a century may pass in three steps - or return in reverse if the Queen wills it. Every corner hides a temptation...mirrors show liars you’ve yet to meet, a doorway leads to a version of power that comes visiting.

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The Queen Witch moves with entrancing elegance...Each step heals or haunts.

📜 Everyone wants to be in The Arcane Rulebook of the Queen’s Waltz

Dancers are summoned...not invited.

Only those who have tasted deception, or whispered wicked deeds to the stars are marked.

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Wanderers~~~Lured by a cryptic invitation, arrive seeking answers, perhaps redemption.

🕯️🖤🌹

✨ They only find the Magical Properties of the Ballroom of Thorns and Silk

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🩸 A slow edible death.

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Writing crazy for Rock's fun challenge