"As soon as you believe you are a monster is when you become one."
After many years of war, the kingdom of Edria is finally in an era of peace--peace obtained by one thing and one thing only.
A deal.
King Regol has made a deal with the devil, or r...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Never were the halls so still and silent that I could hear the smallest beetle scurrying behind the walls.
Never had the word "lonely" meant anything until I could talk to no one.
Never was I so free to feel, but so unwilling to.
I couldn't help but wonder what she thought of the way I told her to go. I wasn't gentle or kind about it. I was demanding. Ordering.
But I wouldn't change it.
If somewhere in me, I had found a way to reverse time at just speaking a word, I wouldn't have. She'd still be gone.
She was like a bird, needing to fly in the open sky, not be locked up in a cage.
LOCKED UP IN A CAGE WITH A MONSTER.
I shook my head, trying to get the Beast to go away.
No, I replied. Not a monster. You weren't out for most of the time.
That shut it up.
With her being gone, it meant I was finally free to feel. There was no danger of me hurting anyone because of my actions.
But freedom to feel is both a blessing and a curse.
Everything that I forced myself to hold back teetered on the edge of unleashing in a humongous tidal wave.
A tidal wave that, if it let loose all at once, would allow the Beast to take control permanently.
YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO, LITTLE PRINCE.
No, actually, I'm sure that I don't. I just want--
I paused. What did I want? I wanted to be free of the creature that wore my skin. I wanted out of the castle, away from the forest and away from buildings. I wanted freedom.
But I didn't want it alone.
My fingers brushed against the uneven surface of metal. I held the silver mask in my lap, fingering it gently, tracing over the designs on its surface.
The old, worn thing gleamed faintly in the small bit of sunlight peeking through a space in the curtain. The mask was tarnished from the two hundred-plus years I had it.
For years, I didn't want to get rid of it. I didn't want it to leave my sight. It wasn't all because of the fear that I would be seen without it.
It was because of who gave it to me.
With just one quick glance across the room, the wooden box holding Rosalie's last gift to me danced across my vision. But, while a chain with a decoration was from her, a silver mask was from my son.
I could still watch them die. The silver sword would always run through Rosalie's chest, then draw back, coated with metallic red. Then that would always move to Henry Scott.
