The wine slipped down her throat, thick and tasting of crimson. She bore it with a grimace.
The price for beauty.
Ahead, the ocean churned. She watched with wide eyes as it frothed, and rose.
Higher. Higher. Higher still.
The screams of her subjects came to her ears. And still, the oceans kept rising.
Before she knew it, the palace was flooding. She cut her arm again, hoping it might stem the tide.
It succeeded only in drawing the sharks.
She tried to scream, but her head was underwater.