She stood, regal as a queen and mighty as a goddess, at the bottom of the old-fashioned spiral staircase. Her green eyes, like clear sharp emerald crystals, bored into the soldier’s very heart and shot shards of ice into his blood.

“Nyx, darling.” She stalked cat-like towards where the crimson-and-bronze-clad soldier stood at attention, his very flesh as rigid as it’s metal casing. He clutched his red-plumed helmet in his hands with white knuckles, as if life itself dwelled in the gently quaking feather. She reached him and leaned in, full scarlet lips close to his face, eyes meeting his. An expression that could have – no, should have – revealed the tenderness of love, but on her pale chiseled face, spoke only of hemmed-in malice.

She raised a long, dainty, ebony painted finger and traced the soldier’s strong, handsome jaw line, tipping his chin up. His eyes flashed with pain, and she laughed, humorlessly, coldly, as she drew her finger away, it’s porcelain flesh tainted with a trail of bright red blood dripping from her sharpened nail. “You have made a grave mistake.”

The soldier remained frozen, though out of fear or duty who’s to say. A single drop of pure ruby blood dripped from his chin onto the white marble floor. Neither the soldier nor the woman paid it any mind.

She took a deep breath, exquisitely and unfittingly beautiful in her black dress. She was as gorgeous as an angel, but no warmth of beauty surrounded her. Rather a cold chill pierced all who were unfortunate enough to be near her. “You let the prisoner escape, let him stow away upon a vessel, on his way to a country where he is free to disclose all that he knows about our government. Everything we have devoted ourselves to concealing. Do you realize the gravity of this situation?” The soldier was still, and an instant later a loud smack reverberated against the sword-adorned walls of the empty entry hall. A perfect dainty female hand was pulsing red and bruised on the soldier’s cheek. “Answer me.” Her bell-like voice was calm and sweet, betraying no emotion.

“Yes, I understand.” No reaction was elicited. Her green eyes remained impassive as the soldier fought to keep his knees from shaking under her burning gaze.

“And yet they escaped.” The soldier gulped, barely able to squeeze the word passed his lips.

“Yes.” Her mask of calm slipped off her face like fabric being whisked away. For an instant – just an instant – her countenance twisted and contorted with fury, despair and desperation. For just an instant – no longer, she was both painfully human in her emotion and eerily supernatural in the intensity and coldness exploding from those deadly serpent-green eyes. Then, as swiftly as it had come, the passionate, irate fire was gone. The mask was reapplied – perfectly, flawlessly, seamlessly replacing the image of Medusa with that of a fine china doll. The faint sound of metal knee-plates shaking against each other was all that could be heard in the lonely room.

She met the soldier’s eyes once more, holding him captive in their dangerous depths. He didn’t know what she was doing until he felt cold unforgiving steel laid, almost gently on his throat. He tried to swallow the bile that was rising, but the blade restricted him as it pressed, caressing his neck, lovingly biting at his flesh, milking from him precious drops of scarlet liquid.

“You have failed me, Nyx.” The knife pressed harder, carving into his hide so smoothly it felt like a favor. A small smile played upon her ruby lips. “And for that you must die.”