An object skid across the polished castle’s marble floor at high speed. It was spinning like a street toy bouncing off furniture and walls in the long hall. Steps were heard. After pausing and kicking, the stopped object spun further. Like a child’s game of kick the can, the steps proceeded down the hall toward the Military Leader and his Queen. They waited, glancing at each other, wondering who could get past security so easily.
Soon a purple and gray object plopped at the royal feet of the Queen.
It had a polished boomerang shape. In a moment of recognition, Zingara shrieked when it fell.
“The Best Stone! My dream!”
“Thought you’d like to have it, your Majesty. My friends Arrow and Eye located it in the desert, not the sand desert you know, but in a rapture simulator. Knew it’d have particular sentimental meaning for you.”
There stood Anchor speaking, hard honest words, her two desert friends standing close by.
Zingara stared at a manifestation in her palm that previously only existed in her dream world. She clenched her fist around it. Things were becoming clear now. There was no dream. A rapture simulator easily produced dream qualities if it was replayed over and over brainwashing its prey. Only a few props were required. This Stone was proof enough. Who would benefit from such fraudulent night visions? Obviously, Yew Rue.
“Tell her,” commanded Anchor, “Who I am and why I’m here.”
“Who are you to command me?” said Yew Rue haughtily.
“Ask the voice in your head, the Executioner Morgan, the Sea-dweller. Your valued ally?”
Eyes wide, Zingara, recognizing Yew’s changed touch. She registered Morgan’s craving dungeon touches again.
“You are Anchor, the anchoress. Survivor of the Great Butchery, commander of nature, and Royal Princess of the Golden City, Heiress to the Throne,” said a gurgling in Yew’s throat inhabited by the undead.
Zingara pitched the Stone. The purple and gray Best Stone sailed across the room striking Yew square in the forehead. He dropped cold to the floor.
“You killed my father!” shrieked Zingara. Hysterically, she ruthlessly kneed, elbowed, and punched the unconscious Yew Rue into a bloody mess. She plopped down sobbing uncontrollably. Her foul husband treacherously deceived her. He plotted the evil assassination of her cherished father. He was in league and now possessed by the bloodiest heart ever created, Morgan the Executioner.
“Ungula, you are the Anchor father spoke of so fondly. Why didn’t you tell me? I am sorry for my behavior. I apologize. Forgive me,” said Zingara in a stilted overwhelmed manner. She sat staring at her red-stained hands.
“Hey, it’s OK. We all have our bad days,” said Anchor with her usual devil-may-care attitude, “I admire your combat training. Very effective. I’m interested. What are you going to do with this guy?” asked Anchor.
“Anchor, you realize, now you rule this land and the Golden City. You decide what happens to these two depraved minds in one body. Show no mercy, please, for their crimes are heinous,” said Zingara with numbed feelings. Her face was ghostly pale and tears streamed from her red puffy eyes.
“These are difficult times for you, Sister Zingara. I’ve felt similar anguish. You’re not alone in your suffering. For the criminal mastermind, inside your husband’s body, crushed millions of humans before my young eyes. He’s not really surprised I’m here today. He secretly longs for death’s embrace. I’ve come to administer his wish,” said Anchor unvarnished.
“My Royal Queen, what can I do to help you in your mission?” asked Zingara.
“First, quit groveling!” commanded Anchor.
This blunt statement shocked Zingara out of her daze.
“You’re a trained warrior. Has royal life caused you to go soft so quickly?” Anchor continued, “Second, don’t call me Queen anymore. Anchor is my spiritual name. Be my sister not my subject.”
Anchor knew dealing directly and forcefully with her twin sister would help keep Zingara from falling apart or being reckless.