The air between them was thick. Suffocating.
The First Consort could barely breathe as the figure in black began moving—slowly, steadily, with that bone-chilling silence that screamed louder than thunder.
Step.
Step.
Step.
The sound of it echoed in her mind, louder than it should have been. Her fingers shook violently as she reached behind and grabbed the closest thing she could—an ornament, a golden vase the size of a plum.
"STAY BACK!" she screamed, and with all the force her shaking arm could muster, she hurled it forward.
The vase soared—
But the black figure merely tilted her head.
Whoosh!
The vase missed entirely, smashing into the wall with a deafening CRACK! Shards of gold scattered across the pristine floor like shattered dignity.
The First Consort stumbled backward. "Who are you?! Who are you?!" she screamed again, voice rising into hysteria.
The figure gave no reply.
