Dark Fantasy · Horror · The Plot Calls Anthology · September 24, 2025

The Plot Calls #39 : "My Throne Awaits"

Envy

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Lila Vane didn’t envy money. She didn’t envy love. She envied influence.

Not the raw power of politics—the recognition. The applause. The quiet reverence in a crowded room that only a title could command.

For years, that envy simmered beneath her campaign work. She trailed Reed Halston, the rising star. She watched him soak up the headlines. The endorsements. The respect. She smiled in public. Congratulated him at events. But privately? She burned.

Then, Reed vanished. No note. No press conference. Gone.

Suddenly, Lila’s opportunity arrived. A vacant seat. A path cleared. Her envy flared. The hunger returned.

The whisper came one sleepless night on the campaign trail. Low. Voiceless. Curling through the fields behind a town hall rally.

Lila followed. Restless. Desperate to claim what should’ve been hers.

There, hidden beyond the floodlights, pulsed the soil. Black-violet. Alive. The porcelain hand reached upward. Open. Expectant. Hungry.

Lila offered her campaign badge—the symbol of her ambition.

The next morning, everything changed. Poll numbers surged. Donors called. Headlines followed.

But so did the consequences. The debates. The late-night calls. The impossible expectations. The pressure crushed her.

She’d wanted respect. Visibility. Recognition. Not this.

The hunger in her dimmed. The envy that fueled her evaporated. But the soil still called.

She fed it more—endorsements, speeches, slogans, everything that made her visible. The more she fed, the less she cared. The less they cared.

The campaign faltered. The respect faded. The audience vanished. All that remained was the plot—and the whisper.

Eventually, her staff couldn’t find her. Her hotel room empty. Her badge left behind.

Late that night, beyond the rally grounds, a figure knelt idle by the soil. Pale. Hollow. Forgotten.

Lila claimed her throne, kneeling beside the soil, gazing into the plot and whispering.