Sorry for the bad pic
The Hellequin held the head of Mykathanos at eye level.
“Tell me what I wish to know,” she said, using words of power. The marble columns of the palace trembled.
The horned god spoke. “One hundred thousand leagues and one hundred thousand more are there between the lands of Mykathanos and those of others.”
“How do you know this?” hissed the Hellequin.
The dead god replied. “In the year of the triple blood moons, when I was yet strong and virile, it was determined to use the old tech to send an airship and crew to the ends of my known lands.”
“And what did they discover?”
“The airship returned from the horizon opposite, without her crew. There were no records, no writings.”
The Hellequin frowned. “And how many days had passed before its return?”
There was a pause.
“Two hundred thirty-seven years, fourteen days.”
“Two hundred…years?” It dawned upon the Hellequin that her search would be much more difficult than she had expected.
“No matter. I would know the location of this airship,” she asked.
“It is housed beneath…be…” The head’s eyes rolled back, and it was silent.
“No!” the Hellequin screeched, “Answer me damn you!”
But the magic had run its course. Mykathanos, horned god of old, would speak no more.
The Hellequin gritted her teeth, fuming. Even in death the old bastard continued to vex her.
She carried the head to the throne room’s balcony. Outside throngs of people waited, as silent as their dead god. The Hellequin looked upon them and held the head of Mykathanos aloft.
“The age of the Hellequin is at hand! Despair, you dogs, for night without morning has fallen, and ye now are my children!”
The sounds of weeping brought a rare smile to the face of the Hellequin, new queen of old lands.
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