Beneath the Queen's Throne
A Queer Shadow Work Field Note from Sheol's Southern Gate
Author’s Note
This post emerged over three days of pendulation—between body and page, memory and myth, fear and revelation. It began as a conflict in a deep personal relationship, but soon revealed itself as something far older: a reckoning with Prey, the Guardian of the Southern Gate of Sheol.
If you’ve followed the earlier field notes, you’ve already met her. She is the grotesque belle of my Inner Council, a devourer of childhood, and an enforcer of performative righteousness. But this post? This is not her introduction. This is her crucible.
What follows is a record of my confrontation with her.
It is not linear.
It is not tidy.
But it is true.
You are welcome to enter.
Just know: Prey never lets you leave the same.
“You’ve never been beheaded though, have you?”
“When did you first learn to feel this way?”
I’ll probably always remember what someone said in group:
“An adult survivor of childhood abuse can tell by the way the keys are put down on the counter how bad the evening will be.”
I’ve carried that sentence like a pocket stone.
The truth is—I’m weary of this fear.
Resentful of it.
And I know it isn’t anyone’s fault.
It’s not external. It’s internal.
And I know exactly who I need to confront.
I’m just afraid to do it.
“Remember, beloved. We are with you. You will survive.”
Descent into the Swamp
I’ve come to reclaim my childhood.
It was never hers to keep.
And Ariadne is not my responsibility.
She lied to me.
“Do you have any idea where I came from?” Prey spat. “No. Nor do I want you to know. What I want is for you to never have to know.”
Well, you’ve got a fucked-up way of protecting me.
“You’ve never been beheaded though, have you?”
What does that even mean?
“You know what it means.”
This dance between us—it isn’t working anymore.
It needs to change.
“You stupid boy! You have no idea what you’re saying.”
Why did you keep me?
“Remember what I told you. If they hated me, they will hate you.”
Why is this so hard?
(Go with that.)
“You’ve never been beheaded though, have you?”
Why do you keep saying that?
(No answer. Just stillness. Weight. The wet heat of memory rising from below.)
The Vasalisa Moment
“Why did Vasalisa dare to ask the Baba Yaga questions?”
Prey’s voice is syrupy and sharp. Her meta-eyes flash red.
“Why do you think that is, Junior?”
(She spits the name like it’s poison—just like they used to.)
I pause.
Breathe.
Tap the obsidian shard in my pocket.
It anchors me.
Then it comes.
“She had the doll,” I say. “The one her mother gave her. She listened.”
Prey narrows her eyes.
“Soft wisdom,” she hums. “And what else did she carry home?”
I feel the answer before I say it:
“The fire skull. The one that burned the lies away.”
She smiles.
But there’s no cruelty in it.
“So,” I ask, voice steadying, “Where is mine?”
“Ha! You are asking me?”
No.
I’m not.
Because I already know.
The Throne of Stolen Childhood
I walk to the throne.
The grotesque altar she built from everything I was told to fear.
The closer I get, the more titles I read—warped, scorched, condemned:
Clifford the Big Red Dog – “An abomination of God’s creatures.”
The Last Unicorn – “Mockery of God’s omnipotence.”
The Lorax – “Blasphemy against manifest destiny.”
Frog and Toad Are Friends – “Promotion of homosexuality.”
And beneath it all—
a glow.
I circle. I crouch.
My chest tightens. My feet want to flee.
But I kneel.
And I see it.
A head.
His head.
Really Headless Joe.
The Skull Returns
I never found it in Dragons & Disco Socks.
Back then, Beautiful Joe bit it clean off at the Pond. I watched it fall.
I watched the green slime spill.
But the head?
Vanished.
I faced his reanimated body again and again.
But the head was lost to silence.
Until now.
Prey kept it.
Buried it beneath the throne.
The last place I wanted to look.
The only place it could have been.
It pulses white-hot.
My body screams to run.
But I stay.
I reach.
My hand touches the crown—
and it is ice cold.
Stillness floods through me.
Then warmth.
Then light.
The glow shifts—
from warning to wisdom.
From poison to lantern.
The skull is mine now.
And the gate is open.
“Well done,” she says. “It is time we both leave this place.”
Reflection & Invitation
Prey doesn’t just haunt the past.
She tests it.
She guards the memories I buried so deep I forgot where to look.
This wasn’t a confrontation.
It was an initiation.
She didn’t stop me.
She watched to see if I’d stop myself.
And I didn’t.
The obsidian shard—the doll—got me here.
But the fire skull?
That’s what I carry forward.
So I ask you:
Have you ever mistaken fear for safety?
Have you ever cast something away to survive—and then had to dig through shame to find it again?
Have you ever been given your fire skull?
Leave a comment or reply.
I’d be honored to witness what you’ve reclaimed.
Guild Field Notes
Prey – Guardian of the Southern Gate of Sheol. Part Southern Belle, part Baba Yaga. She doesn’t protect. She tests.
Vasalisa – A girl from myth who survived Baba Yaga by listening to the doll her mother gave her and returning with the skull that burned away lies.
Obsidian Shard – A slivered black feather taken from Tali. Used here like Vasalisa’s doll: a symbol of grounded intuition and inner knowing.
Really Headless Joe – A grotesque patriarchal specter first introduced in Dragons & Disco Socks. His body returned. His head did not—until now.
Lantern – A recurring symbol in the mythos: truth that shines after descent.
Throne of Stolen Childhood – A throne built from condemned memories and confiscated joy. Prey’s domain.
Sheol / The Swamp – A mythic underworld of shame, trauma, protection, and buried power.