Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Korra. Also, this takes cues from the horror stories The King in Yellow and the online story SCP-701, which I both recommend.

Author's Note: This is an alternate version of a story I'm posting on the AvatarSpirit . Net forums. Being on FFN, I can push the rating to M instead of cutting to keep it PG-13, but the ASN version uses hyperlinks and other formatting techniques as a part of the story, so it's the "best" version. Also, The Queen of Broken Rocks is not a real play.

Author's Warning: If you ever find a copy of The Queen of Broken Rocks, do not read it or perform it.

The Queen of Broken Rocks

(A Legend Of Korra Horror Story)

CHAPTER ONE:

Setting Sail

Bolin jerked awake to the sound of thunderous applause. He tried to blink away the last remnants of that weird dream—something about dancing, a red mask, a magical model train and a tiger addicted to fire-flakes—and get himself back in the moment. Right! The play.

Yeah, the play. The play that he'd just slept through beside his brother, the Avatar, and his date, Asami Sato. Well, he had told them so. "I kind of have two speeds," he'd said, only a few hours ago. "Moving and asleep." Of course, Asami had laughed in that wonderful, giggling sort of way she had, but it was true. Bolin had never been good at sitting still, and now he could only watch helplessly as the actors onstage bowed and his friends stood up to give a standing ovation. Sheepishly, Bolin stood up and clapped as well.

"That was…that was beautiful," said Korra. Her eyes shone wet in the dim light of the theater. "The poor Queen."

"Gotta say," said Mako, "this makes me glad to live in a Republic. All that poisoning and regicide…I've had enough excitement recently, thank you very much."

"What was up with that sage in yellow robes, though?" said Asami. "And the Spirit of Shepherds. Did they ever get back to that part?"

"I don't remember them doing that," said Bolin, which was technically true. "But that wasn't my favorite part." Which was also technically true.

"What was it, then?"

Curses! Foiled again. "I really liked the…" Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink! "…part with the royalty dying in it."

"So basically, every scene!" said Asami with a chuckle. "They went a little overboard with that, I think."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely," said Bolin, and breathed a sigh of relief—perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to B.S. through the conversation as he'd thought.

Bolin stood in the doorway of his room in the White Lotus Temple, trying not to say anything stupid. This wasn't easy, because Bolin understood that most of the words that came out of his mouth were, in fact, considered pretty stupid. It was a miracle, he thought, that Asami had even agreed to the date.

"I had a great time tonight," said Asami. "It really was like old times. Before all that dumb drama, you know?"

Bolin nodded. "Yeah, I know. And that play!"

Asami laughed again, and Bolin still wasn't sick of it—it still sounded like music. "Right, The Queen of Broken Rocks. I'm glad you enjoyed it. You certainly looked comfortable, Bolin."

Bolin flushed red. So she noticed after all. "Right. Well, I have a…special way of watching plays. It involves closing my eyes and breathing all shallow-y and not moving."

"No, I don't blame you," said Asami. She looked back and forth conspiratorially and leaned in. "I don't get why Korra and Mako enjoyed it so much, really. Maybe they haven't seen many plays before, but the whole thing was pretty old hat. You weren't missing much. I actually kind of envied you."

Bolin laughed. "Yeah, but sleeping together would've been a little too obvious, righ—oh, um…" Well. That had come out wrong, and now he was very aware of just how close Asami was right now. The autumn night was cold, and she was so, so warm right now. The smile faded from her face as well, and Bolin could feel her eyes on him, wondering if she felt that same feeling—the sensation of things being somehow more real than usual, of being frozen in time and hearing every breath and seeing every movement.

"I should…" said Asami, and Bolin saw that moment right then. Right there was the moment in the stories, where you're supposed to kiss the girl under the moonlight. "I should probably go now," said Asami. "Um. Because, you know. Sato board meeting tomorrow."

"Right," said Bolin.

"I mean, yeah. But we could hang out tomorrow."

"Uhuh, I know. And that's going to be awesome."

"Yup."

"Well, see ya!"

"Yeah!"

He watched Asami drive down the dark roads back to the Sato Estate. That enormous mansion, full of memories. And Bolin suddenly felt as though he was being plunged into ice-cold water—Asami was all alone in that mansion. Yes, Chief Lin had posted a few police officers to protect her from stray Equalists or anyone with a grudge against Hiroshi Sato, but that wasn't what Bolin was thinking about.

How could she stand the loneliness there? How could she bear living in that huge, empty house, full of memories of a dead mother and a fallen father?

I should've gone with her, he thought suddenly. I should've.

But then again, he thought with a sigh, there's always tomorrow. Asami had said as much.

Always tomorrow.

Someone once told Asami that the moon was a woman, half-human and half-spirit, tempering harsh darkness with soft moonlight. Waking up that night in her bed, she could almost believe it. The moonlight was so much brighter than usual, after all, and the night was cool and clear.

And so was her tired mind. Somehow, after lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying to banish thoughts of her father and Mako and Amon's attack and Bolin, she had wound up thinking of almost nothing at all. So why couldn't she sleep?

No, a fog was coming on—here it was, then, and about time too. The day had been exhausting. Fun, but exhausting. She rolled onto her side and set sail…

To the kingdom of Algadar the Sage was sailing, over the tumultuous seas that seemed to rebel against her. But the Sage dared them to kill her—the Seven Stars of Kallarath filled her heart with joy and raucous hatred as they cast red light upon her and her ship of bones.

There was a low, agonized hiss from behind the Sage—the sound of rancid breath escaping the Captain's skull. She was fluent in the speech of Carcosa, of course, which wasn't far removed from the speech of hell.

The hiss: "The ghosts you have been waiting for, my Mistress."

And they were. Ahead of her, sitting in rows atop the rolling waves of the Bleak Sea, were blank-eyed men and women, watching her and waiting. A perfect audience, like unknitted threads, and the design rose up from their faces.

One of them sat beside a foolish sleeping boy, and her face shared the same black hair and critical eyes as the Sage (no, no, no, it's all backwards).

The Sage opened her mouth, and Asami spoke:

"Long ago and far away, 'neath seven scarlet stars

Across the sea from dark Carcosa, in shadowed Algadar.

The Queen of Broken Rocks upon a Ruby throne did sit

And ruled with wisdom, wariness and calculating wit.

Empty is the throne today, and pretenders rule the earth

But soon the Queen will rise again, a merciless rebirth."

The waves of faces surged forward, and soon they would break on the bow of the bone-ship.

Quietly, the Sage made a sign with her left hand…and leapt into the sea.

The cold wind seemed to bite through Asami's robes and flesh, right into marrow. It shook her from strange dreams.

She was outside now, and the sky was black and moonless. She felt strange—out of balance, her leg aching for some reason. Yawning, she opened her eyes.

Asami was on the balcony beside her bedroom, one leg slung over the railing, about to topple into the garden below. She looked down with wide eyes, slowly climbed back behind it and did not sleep for the rest of the night.