Ivanna dreams herself as an Evil God Queen

Ivanna was sleeping in her kid’s diaper and nothing else, her pale body covered by nothing. Still she slept, and she dreamed…

The southern winds, thick with the scent of pine and a hint of fear, even they whispered my name. Stanna. Soon, every miserable, sun-scorched patch of this realm would kneel. One more village, one more pathetic stronghold, and my reign would stretch from the icy north to these sweltering dunes. My obsidian cloak, woven from shadow-spun silk, billowed behind me, a living extension of my will.

Ivory skin, a stark contrast to the dark fabric, gleamed under the sickly green glow of the moon, also under my command. My black hair, a cascade of midnight curls, framed a face that appeared a mere nineteen, though centuries had passed since my true birth. I savored the sight of the terrified peasants, their eyes wide, their bodies trembling. They understood. They knew Stanna, Sister Shadow, Goddess of the shadow realm and everything under the moon. I brought only submission or annihilation.

"Is this truly necessary, Stanna?"

A voice, weak and out of place amidst the armored boots and the hushed prayers of the condemned. I turned, a slow, deliberate pivot, my black lips curving into a sneer. Raphael. My stepbrother.