The Thirteen Words of Khaza Sool

A sultry night hung over the black forests of planet Moog. Deep within it, a million million creatures slept, and a million million more crept through its lush shadows or set aloft into its moonlit skies. All four moons were visible tonight, trailing each other in an irregular line across the heavens. Beyond them, the stars of the spinward marches, realm of the Imperium. Tonight, a warm breeze welled up from the valleys, bringing with it the smell of Kaur beast, and of the manlords that hunted them. Also drifting up the music was the sweet music of the lowland barbarians, proud and dangerous. Kyrie, princess of Nomia, leaned against the balustrade, her black hair blowing in the gentle wind. Her brown eyes sparkled like twin diamonds, her blue skin a ghostly white under the light of the four moons. It was a beautiful face, with high cheekbones and a cruel red mouth, caught perpetually in the act of half-smiling. To the stars of her ancestors, she pointed, one after the other, until all seven suns had been located. Her hand fell through her hair and down her subtle blue cleavage. Black, bejeweled, and polished, her ten nails slid under her spidersilk dress, brushing gently over a soft black nipple as they fell, further, to her hip in a gesture of impatience. She was filled with a hunger she could not possibly sate. There could not possibly be enough love in this palace to fill the need within her. Still, she would not give up the game. Strutting back into her gallery, the space princess called to her manservant for a glass of wine.