A gray mist surrounded her. Energy was rolling out of her like the mist. She was merely nothing, so some had claimed. She was not in the right place. She should have been queen. Should have been. Should have been. Nothing flashed quite clearer than the anger that tore her face into an expression of placidness, as if nothing was wrong. She must take someone. For she was the Queen of Sorts. She was going to find who did it. And make them pay. For now, all she could do was wait. They were going to come to her. With open arms they would receive their payment. But not now. Soon.
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