Azraeh's Palace

I sighed and leaned back slightly into my demonic throne.

"Etsrin, get one of the slaves to deliver a glass of water for me." I leaned forward onto my hand, slumping down in the throne.

"I'm sure that you only want water because you have nothing else to do, my lady." Etsrin coughed slightly and stepped in front of me, looking very stoic. "If it helps you, we have a new shipment of slaves coming in later today. They are all handpicked, to ensure maximum quality." It didn't bother me that he referred to the humans as objects, I just smiled slightly at the news, we hadn't had a new shipment in over two months.

"Etsrin, get a slave to bring me a fully charged tablet and stylus. I'll need to write things down as I choose which slaves to send to the Sanctuary, as you probably guessed." The Sanctuary was my nickname for where slaves were kept, except a few chosen humans. I always pick one slave that stands out from each batch and they get the opportunity to live in my palace, cleaning and cooking for me. Chosen slaves are also exempt from sex work, as I don't want other people to damage my 'special' humans.

"Hopefully this crap won't be so boring as last time." I smirked and put my arms behind my head.

"I still don't understand why you don't talk like a proper queen, my lady. I find it rather disrespectful." Etsrin grumbled quietly, just loud enough for me to pick up his groveling.

"Shut up, you know that kind of stuff pisses me off." I rolled my eyes and sighed, standing up and walking out of the room. As I headed towards the kitchen to get some food, I paused as Etsrin yelled from the throne room.

"The slaves have arrived early, my lady. You should come back here so they can be presented."

I walked back with a bounce in my step, grinning just slightly.

This should be fun.

I hung my head as I was lead into a large building. I had been sulking since I had discovered that I was going to the underworld to be a slave, or maybe one would call it being extremely afraid. I didn't know why I was chosen, and I didn't even know who or what I was going to work with, or who I would work for. All that the demon had said was that one of us would be chosen by their ruler - queen - empress - whatever. I hadn't really been paying attention, because I was too busy wallowing in self-pity. I hated the situation I was in, but I knew I didn’t have a choice. I began to look around at the halls the other slaves and I were walking in. They were demonic but... beautiful. Blood red tiles, interlaced with midnight black in a pattern that was no pattern at all, just pure chaos.

As we got to the fifth door, (I had been counting) I heard one of the demons roar.

“You will all be graced with the presence of our mighty queen, Azraeh! Show humility before her!”

I saw a few of the other slaves cower in fear, and I decided to hang my head again. I didn’t want to think about the tortures these literal demons had in store for people who disobeyed them, so I decided to be my usual self: passive and obedient. That was probably the best way to survive in a place like this, I decided. So, after I walked in to throne room, I just stood there waiting patiently, knowing that this was a moment of rest in a probably rough schedule, if my knowledge about demons was anywhere near correct. Then I saw the queen. I shuddered. She had a demonic looking whip in one hand. I shuddered again.

This is going to be rough. This isn’t good at all; this is torture! I’ll glad when I can be outside of her presence.

As the horde of slaves slowly formed a line I just continued grinning evilly.

Hmm... I think this batch is alright, it could be bet- Ooh, that one looks nice.

I gently flicked my whip in front of a boy with long brown hair and green eyes. "You, boy. What's your name?" He was visibly shaking as he faced me.

"My name is W-will." He murmured quietly. I smiled and decided that he would be the special slave from this batch.

"Well Will, congrats. You have been chosen by me to stay in the palace. You will be more privileged but remember one thing." I walked over and put one finger on the frightened-looking boy's chest. My eyes slowly changed to a deep blood red color as I leaned in closer.

"You're still just a slave."

When the queen said “You’re still just a slave,” it was like a slap in the face to remind me that no matter how used to this I became, nothing would improve. That her eyes had turned red scared the living out of me. Not the living anything, just the living. Also, the fact that I was to stay in the palace with her meant I would be subjected to the mercilessness of her demeanor, on probably a daily basis. I was shaking, as if cold, but I really wasn’t. I was just scared out of my mind. I almost pleaded with her to pick someone else, but when I opened my mouth, her eyes flared up. I swear I could see fire in them.

“Anything to say?” She smirked. “Will.” I quickly shook my head no, and then she continued.

“Then I’ll take you to the slave quarters. Etsrin, make sure the rest get sent to the Sanctuary. Come on then, boy, what are you waiting for?” She smirked again, and cracked her whip. I hurriedly followed her out another door. Jeez, how many doors did this place have? A lot, I assumed, but still... I noticed a change in the pattern of the tiles, or rather, the un-pattern. The colors were jet black and midnight blue. I barely noticed the difference, but when I did, my curiosity spoke before my common sense could handle it.

“Why are there different color patterns?” I blurted, and immediately regretted it. I lowered my head as the queen turned to face me, thinking:

Oh God. Oh God.

I looked pointedly at the boy walking next to me, hunched down and looking cowardly. I sniffed slightly and responded.

"You should know to not speak to a queen like that, Will." I swished my whip back and forth making it gently brush his leg, hoping to scare him some more. It appeared to work, as he seemed to shrink even further down into the floor.

"And the answer to your question should be obvious, boy. I am the queen. I am the ruler of this godforsaken place. I am the one in charge of everything that happens here!" I pulled the boy up by his shirt, my blood-red eyes glistening with power. I stared into his weak green gaze with my piercing glare and whispered softly.

"So I think you should be able to figure out why the tile is a different color. Because I wanted it to be." I said my statement with as much venom as I could force into my words. I shoved the boy to the side into another servant, ordering him to be cleaned up and given a room. I stalked down the hallway, feeling successful.

It is pretty great to know how much effect you have on people.

The slave I had been shoved into was not happy. Perhaps one would call it angry, or, as I saw the look on his face, downright hateful. His glare wasn’t half as bad as the queen’s, but still, I wanted to curl up in a corner and die.

“While I realize you got pushed by the queen, I also realize you probably did something stupid, and thus it’s your fault,” he said angrily. As he saw my mouth open, he continued. “And don’t argue, just GET MOVING and FOLLOW ME!” While I had opened my mouth, it had been to breathe, not argue, so I didn’t see the justification for the phrase ‘don’t argue with me’, but I complied like a good little sheep. He led me down another corridor (who would’ve guessed?) to a set of double doors, and I asked, quietly:

“What’s -” I was cut off by him smacking me across the face, and yelling:

“This is the slave showers, damn it! The males are on the right side, females on the left. There are towels and servant uniforms in there, as well as soap to wash your body with. Put your current clothes in the basket for the dirty uniforms. The queen hates it when her slaves aren’t clean. So, why are you standing there with your jaw hanging? Huh?” I snapped my jaw shut and ambled across to the double doors, opened them, and turned to the right. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other slave eyeing me with interest.

Am I really that interesting?

I saw communal showers similar to what I had known on Earth, and shuddered.

I hope no one else comes in. I hate showering with others watching.

So, I washed myself, and luckily, no one came in. I had been quick, about three and a half minutes, but I didn’t know what the time schedules were around the... Hell? Underworld? Whatever. I dried myself off and got dressed in the demonic looking servant uniforms the slave outside had been talking about. They were red and black, with a sash of gold for around the waist. They weren’t the most comfortable things ever, but I supposed that is was out of my hands. I walked out of the double doors feeling slightly less scared than before. This place couldn’t be that bad... it had showers! But wait, this place was terrible... because of communal showers. As I was debating with myself whether to be more or less depressed, the slave from before showed up.

“I see you got yourself clean,” he said approvingly and angry at the same time, as if he was disappointed that I could wash myself. “Come on, I need to show you your room.” I followed him down yet another passageway, until we came to a segment with many doors rather close together. I didn’t dare speak, lest I got another slap across the face.

“Here is your room. You’ll be sharing with another slave, whose name escapes me now, but she will be here when her shift is done. Your shift will start tomorrow. Make sure you don’t oversleep.”

“How long are the days -”

“Twenty-four hours, idiot, just like everywhere else! Eighteen hours of work, six hours of sleep. Even demons know that humans can’t survive without sleep, even if they can go days without it without ill effects. ‘Nuff said. Bye.” A thought suddenly struck me.

“She? My roommate is a girl?”

“What did you expect? Them to give you a boy? Girls get girls, boys get boys. End of conversation.”

“But I’m not a girl!” He stopped walking away. He turned and said very quietly:

“You’re... not? Then what are you?”

“I’m a boy!”

“How old are you?” he asked suspiciously.

“Sixteen! I’m sixteen!”

“You are not!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “You look like, thirteen!”

“I just haven’t hit my growth spurt yet, I guess...” I mumbled, trailing off with my cheeks burning. This was rare, someone mistaking me for a girl, but when it happened, it was so embarrassing. “So, am I still gonna room with a girl?”

“No, we can’t have that... here, there’s an empty boys’ room over here. It’s yours now.” He pointed to a door. “Go.” The slave turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me simmering in embarrassment. I ran over to the door, pulled it open, stepped in, and shut it. I saw a two cots, one on each side of the tiny room. I collapsed on one of them, shutting my eyes and trying to remember what my life had been before this. Amazingly average, but that was all I remembered. Maybe the trauma made me lose my memory. I began to breathe deep, and in no time, I was asleep.

I clutched my stomach with laughter as the slave that I had shoved Will into told me his story. I wiped a tear from my eye as I continued giggling.

"That's the funniest thing I've heard in a while! I can't believe you made that stupid mistake." The slave did not look very happy, considering I just insulted him. "You can leave now, slave."

I looked at him, motioning with my whip for him to go back to his quarters. He flipped around and walked stiffly back to his chambers. I bet that he wanted to respond something like 'screw you, you're a bitch!'

Ah, the perks that come with being a queen... I think I'm definitely a horrible person. Luckily, that's the exact persona needed for this job. A small, fluffy black cat with bright blue eyes jumped onto my lap.

"Ooh, a kitty? What's your special power, kitty?" Animals in the Underworld were known for having special abilities, including transforming, producing poison and many useless talents.The cat blinked gently then started twitching violently. A swirl of grey, red and black mist twisted around the tiny kitten, warping its image and distorting its features. The cat then tumbled off my lap and fell to the ground. However, when it stood up, instead of a tiny kitten there was a massive furry black beast.

There was drool dripping down its chin making puddles on the floor. It licked its lips, revealing a menacing set of bright white teeth.

"I bet I can do some damage with you, little kitty. I'm going to name you... Viviath." Viviath disappeared in another plume of smoke and then reappeared as the same tiny black kitten.

"Hmm.... Will needs a job in this palace. He shall be your caretaker from now on!" I grinned slyly and picked up the kitten.

"You're so soft and fluffy and nice... Good little killing machine."

I woke up to the sound of quiet meowing in my ear, and I shot up. Unfortunately, the thing that had been causing the meowing in question had been on me, so my moving had thrown it off me. It hissed at me, as if it knew what I was thinking.

Dumb cat, I really wish it could go away... just like the rest of my problems. I should probably get up now, otherwise someone will probably yell -

“Get the fuck up! You’re late for your duties!” I heard the voice of the slave from the day before - at least I assumed it was a day - yelling at me.

How ironic.

I decided to get up, and so I said:

“What exactly... are my duties?”

“Um... taking care of that cat, it looks like.” He glanced down at a sheet of paper he was holding. “Yup, says so on the schedule.”

That’s all?”

“Yes. It is.” I was curious as to why all I had to do was take care of a cat, when I had just become a slave and I had imagined, well, slaving over a hot stove, or building something. Certainly not taking care of a cat. But, whatever, so I started petting the cat. The cat hissed at me again, and I stopped. The cat had a glint in it’s eyes that made me wonder if it was sentient, and then, suddenly, it leaped off my bed, and ran out of the room. I hurried after it, but damn, this cat was fast. It lead me through twists and turns, doors and tiles, eventually to a dead end, with double doors on one side of the hallway.

“Gotcha!” I cried in glee. And then the cat... started to convulse, and red, gray, and black smoke sprung up around it. It obscured the cat, so I couldn't see, for about five seconds, and then, a shape started to emerge from it. I couldn't tell what it was.

What on... Earth?

Not realizing the irony of my thoughts, I stood there, transfixed by the tableau until it reached out a hand, one with very sharp claws, and scratched me down my chest. I screamed in pain and shock as I saw blood pouring out of me, and screamed again. I hated blood. I screamed the only thing that I could scream coherently:

“HELP!!!”