The Moor Beast

Prologue

The little boy hid in the forest, hid from the darkness. He shivered from cold and fright. He knew better than to cry; crying was bad. What did he do wrong? He was always doing something wrong.

Bumps began to prickle along his arms. He knew then she was close. He convulsed once more. She would find him. She always found him.

The shadows crept closer. He pressed himself more into the cold, damp log, hoping they would pass him by.

He hoped in vain.

The shadows wrapped themselves around his ankles. Screaming, he tried to cling to the log, but all he grabbed were a handful of leaves. The shadows dragged him out as he thrashed, but it did no good. Sticks and rocks scratched his back, and the shadows had a vice grip on his ankles. It all hurt. He wailed. It always hurt.

And then she appeared, and the shadows drifted away. The little boy curled up in a ball. She had found him.

She ordered him to look at her. He hid his face. He was too afraid to look at her and see the wrath in her eyes. Her eyes used to look upon him with hope, with desire, with pride. But they slowly changed and now they were always angry and he didn't know why.

She ordered him again, this time with a screech. He peeked out at her with large green eyes that shone in the dark. She hissed. It wasn't enough. Outstretching her claw-like fingers, she lifted the boy into the air, and held him there suspended by a dark force. He kicked and sobbed, and in his small toddler voice begged her to stop.

She only cackled.

"You are a failure," she murmured in a viscous voice. "Therefore, I no longer have any use for you."

"No, Mama," the little boy cried, his voice shaking with tears.

She merely smiled, and clenched her fist. His throat tightened. He gasped and pined for breath, his little heart fighting to keep beating. She brought him closer, face to face, and studied his bright green eyes, searching them. She only saw light, not a hint of darkness. Not even hate for her. Although his eyes told her he was afraid, he still did not hate her.

Furious, she hissed and slashed at his beautiful eyes, releasing her grip on his air. A jagged cut ripped across his left eye. With a ragged breath, he began to scream once more. It was a sweet melody to her ears.

Before she could slash his other eye, she saw light. Not the light in her son's eye, but a light that was coming to her, one that had defeated her many years ago. Fury welled up in her chest. Forgetting her son, she let him go, and he plummeted to the ground, his head smacking a rock. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell unconscious, blood streaming down his pale cheek.

The light came faster, burning brighter than a comet in the sky. She dodged it, and it hit a nearby tree instead, igniting it into licking flames. She poised herself ready to fight. She would defeat the light!

But the shadows begged her not to. You are not ready, our Queen! They insisted. She hissed at them, but knew they were right. There would be a time when she would destroy the light, and be the most powerful.

Now was not that time.

Without a second glance at her son, she disappeared into her shadows. Only a few moments later, a few people appeared, accompanied by several large golden and red cats. A young woman stepped forward, knelt down beside the boy, and gently shook him.

When he didn't immediately respond, she created a small ball of light  in the palm of her hand and pressed to his heart. He suddenly took a deep breath and his good eye fluttered open. He struggled to open his other eye, sticky with blood. He could taste the trickle of it in his mouth. His head ached and the world spun around him.

Through the blood and the dizziness, he saw the most beautiful, kind angel he had ever seen. Her oval face was surrounded by a halo of golden hair, and her warm amber eyes were full of worry for him. She smiled ever so softly at him and carefully wiped the blood and dirt from his face.

"You poor dear," the angel cooed, and the little boy began to cry again, but this time in relief. The angel removed her cloak and wrapped it around his shivering body. He snuggled down into the warmth of it. He couldn't remember the last time he felt warm.

"Your majesty..." one of the men warned.

"We're not leaving him," she said to the man, not bothering to look at him. Her eyes remained on the boy. "Can't you see what she's done to him?"

As she gently scooped the boy into her strong arms, a series of hisses emerged from the cats and even some of the people. Ignoring them, she began to run swiftly through the forest, although it was more like flying. It was as if she sprouted wings on her feet. Lulled by the soft wind and the rocking motion of her arms, the little boy fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.