POV - ...
Drip... Drip... Drip...
Blood hit the ground in slow, rhythmic trickles, echoing like a macabre metronome in the eerie silence of Mars's desolation.
A girl, aged thirteen, maybe fourteen, stood amidst the ruins, her presence exuding an ominous aura far beyond her years. Her expression was one of furious concentration.
In her right hand, she manipulated a circular gemstone with a frantic, almost ritualistic fervor, her fingers tracing patterns as if weaving dark spells. Her eyes, sharp and unblinking, seemed to pierce through the fabric of reality itself.
In her left hand, blood continued to seep from a heart, its rhythm now only a memory. The heart, once the core of vitality, was now a mere object in her grasp. At her feet, the body of a man sprawled lifeless, his chest an empty cavity, his vacant eyes staring into the void.
She cursed under her breath, her fingers working with an almost desperate intensity on the gemstone. Finally, there was a clicking sound, like the unlocking of a forbidden door. Her face lit up with a savage joy, and she screamed, "Finally!"
The atmosphere shifted, a chill sweeping over the desolate landscape, the silence broken by the rustling of movement. One by one, the creatures that had been lifeless just moments before began to rise, their movements jerky at first, then gaining purpose, as if animated by an unnatural force.
The girl watched, her smile wide and disturbingly innocent, as the K'tharr rose. "My babies," she cooed, her voice a chilling lullaby in the dead air, "welcome back."
She pointed with a slender finger at one of the K'tharr, her voice dripping with a sinister sweetness, "You, be a darling and go kill that group running away for me, will you?"
The K'tharr hissed, a sound like steam escaping from a boiling pit, its body shivering with an eagerness for violence. It leaped forward, its form becoming a dark streak against the desolate landscape, moving with an eerie, almost preternatural grace.
The girl watched its departure, her smile broadening into a giggle, her eyes alight with dark amusement as she anticipated the chaos to come.
Her giggling ceased abruptly, her body stiffening as if caught by an invisible hand.
A voice, smooth yet chilling, echoed inside her head, "Anastasia," it drawled, each syllable a whisper of condemnation, "are you slacking off again?"
Anastasia stumbled over her words, her confidence faltering, "N...no... no, no, no, my lady, I've been working very hard."
The voice sighed, the sound reverberating through her mind like the wind through ancient catacombs, "Is it done?"
Anastasia's smile returned, her heart pounding with the need to please, "Yes, my lady, Mars is ready for you," she said.
"Anybody alive?" the voice inquired, its tone a blend of curiosity and command.
Anastasia hesitated, then replied, her voice careful, "Yes, a few, but it's no matter. My pets will take care of it."
"No," the voice countered sharply, "let them be."
"My lady?" Anastasia asked, confusion etched in her voice.
The voice was silent, but Anastasia, seeking clarification, continued, "But my lord said..."
The response was immediate, the voice erupting in her mind, a storm of thunderous anger, "Are you questioning me?"
Anastasia collapsed, her scream piercing the air, her body convulsing as if in physical agony. Tears streamed down her face as she wept, her words tumbling out in a frantic, broken rhythm, "No, my lady, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," a desperate plea for forgiveness.
The voice sighed, an attempt at consolation seeping through the harshness, "There, there," it soothed, "You're a good child, but sometimes you frustrate me. I didn't mean to scream at you."
Anastasia sniffled, her sobs subsiding, her body calming under the gentle reprimand.
The voice continued, its tone now more measured, "Let the escapees be, especially if they're heading to Earth. We need to see if we can glean something from them; the high families want to try again."
"Again?" the word escaped Anastasia, her hand quickly covering her mouth, her eyes closing in anticipation of another scolding.
But there was no anger this time, just a matter-of-fact response, "Yes, again. We really want that planet."
Anastasia nodded, understanding dawning on her, "What do you need from me, my lady?"
"For now, prepare Mars for my arrival. Then be on standby; I might need you to return to Earth."
Anastasia shuddered, memories of her last visit to Earth, a thousand years ago, flashing unbidden through her mind, bringing with them a chill of dread.
She stifled her complaints, knowing the futility of voicing them, and instead nodded, her voice resolute, "Yes, my lady."
Then, like the receding tide, she felt the voice leave her mind.
Anastasia reached out, her mind extending like dark tendrils to the K'tharr she had dispatched. She sent a mental command, a silent whisper in the vast emptiness, for it to return.
Turning to the remaining K'tharr, she spoke, her voice tinged with disappointment, "Unfortunately, my babies, we do not get to kill the rest of the escapees," she sighed, "I know, I know, no fun, but those are our orders."
Her voice then darkened, a sinister cheer replacing the gloom, "Instead, we get to do something less boring. Fix this damn planet to look more, well, planety. Do it with the same enthusiasm as when you're killing. Now, chop chop."
At her command, the K'tharr dispersed, their forms moving like shadows across the landscape, their actions a perverse ballet of creation in a world of destruction, transforming Mars under her watchful, malevolent gaze.
She turned back to the man whose heart she had held, now just a lifeless form at her feet.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice a soft, mournful echo in the still air, "I couldn't fulfill my promise."
Her gaze shifted, as if she could see through the void to where his family was headed. "Your family is going to Earth, it seems."
She sighed, a sound heavy with foreboding, "I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, you know?"
With a slow, sad shake of her head, she murmured, "Poor bastards."