The Devil's Red Right Hand

Today was a rare day for the not-so-young devil, there was a spring in her step and she felt absolutely wonderful. If she had been a wolf given to depression, she would wonder at the mood she was in and would see it as a portent of doom. Things just seemed brighter. Maybe it was because she felt so good, but the gold and silver brindled beast simply began to sing and hum in those strange vocals. It was a haunting melody that could bring in even the most hateful of creatures. Lurid found her paws dancing in the snow that caked the deck of her make-shift home, the metallic clicking of her claws against its surface echoed over the ice as her vocalizations danced across the icy expanse. Her song was longing and sad but in the deeper tones, there was an angry sub-message, like a low roar under the beautiful - yet haunting - contralto that rang in crystalline breaths through the air. There was an invitation for company, but a low-hummed warning not to make the sleeping dragon angry. Her anger at the firefly god rang into her song, he had taken everything away from her. Sadness rang out for the loss of her family, her pack, her kingdom, and the king that was lost to her as well.

Lurid had spent countless months trying to get back home to Boreas, thwarted each time by the hateful being who had trapped her in her homelands. There had been no trace of Alastor nor Kichi, Kefka was nowhere to be found, and his little pink daughter was lost as well. If any of them had lived, she had not seen hide nor hair of them. Eventually, she gave up trying to get home to them. No doubt they had given up on her ever returning after two years had passed. She had also ruled over Old Mirovis for a span of time before she killed the ones who decided to attempt a coup, putting to death most of her pack members - twenty out of her large kingdom of forty. What remained was twenty wolves, and fifteen of those fled in terror. She had only five wolves waiting and those were her main siblings and one cousin. Morbid, Sanguin, Atropos, Cairn, and her cousin Sarachael were one buzzard call away from coming to Boreas. Sanguin was in charge of the remainder of Mirovis, one of two siblings spared from her fang in the battles they had been forced to fight between each other. They owed her their lives and were fiercely loyal. Plus, Mirovians never turned on family - another reason so many had been put to death by her and the five's teeth.

Once she made it home and let a few weeks go by so she could gain her weight back, Lurid found herself wanting company more than a general populace to fear her. Now was the time to gather the monsters of this land and allow them to spread terror through the lands. Everyone would be terrified of her Mirovis, even the most battle-hardy. There would be no suppression of urges, she would protect her followers from the angry mobs. Hers would be the vastest kingdom as her monsters would be heavily encouraged to make their own families. What was unacceptable in other kingdoms would be celebrated and enabled, and her followers would love and adore her. They would have a healthy fear for her as well, knowing that betrayal would mean death and leaving was not an option. Blodreina - the blood queen - was home, The Night Mother, Breaker of Chains, Messiah of the Oppressed has come home, and her song was ringing for any creature with darkness in them to come home to her as well. When her song ended in the most beautiful and haunting howl, a cry for company, Lurid sat and waited.