Chapter 2
TWO
BEAST
When you flee from the world, there are few places that will allow solitude.
At least, if you’re a monster like me. But my Father Creator made me and then left me this way.
Misshapen. Half-baked. Trying to fuse multiple creatures together that nature never intended to meet in one body.
I am an experiment gone terribly, terribly wrong.
And there is no kindness in this world for one like me.
I’ve sought out many haunts for my life of solitude.
Soon I must go back home. I have responsibilities back in that place I detest. And besides, everywhere else, they will not leave me alone.
I am an object of interest. Something out of scary stories made real for hunters to hunt.
For adventurers to capture. A curiosity like they see in their zoos.
But I will never be caged or chained ever again.
And those who are not wise enough to retreat when they sense danger will meet the consequences.
I let out a warning roar that rumbles deep in my chest—a sound meant to protect, not destroy. But the light below bouncing up the path does not turn back.
I watch from the entrance of my high mountain cave, every instinct screaming to shield this foolish climber from what I am. All other predators have vacated the area. They, at least, sense the danger I represent and keep their distance.
It’s only these humans who have lost all sense of self-preservation. They ignore the warning in their bones. They think they know everything and that they are the apex of creation.
How wrong they are.
I’ve learned to laugh at their arrogance before... well. Before I remind them who truly rules these mountains.
Someday soon, they may come with their weapons en masse, at which point I will have to abandon yet another sanctuary. These humans will not suffer me among them, but I know enough about them that when too many gather, they become dangerous. Like when a nest of hornets is disturbed.
I will leave before that becomes necessary.
And certainly this one bobbing, uncertain lantern light climbing my mountain at such an hour is no army.
I let out another deep rumble from my chest—a sound of power that could shatter stone, yet somehow I find myself hoping it sounds more like a warning than a threat. The lantern bearer is close enough now that I can sense their delicate trembling.
Turn back, I will them silently. Save yourself the pain of meeting me.
But after only a moment’s pause, the light continues its steady approach.
I exhale heavily, something almost like regret stirring in my chest.
Very well. I have not had sustenance in some time. This doomed wanderer will sustain me, and then perhaps I can finally rest.
Still, I let out low growls to give them every chance to flee. It is not their hearing that fails, for the little lantern wavers each time I do. But still, inevitably, they come straight toward me.
I don’t bother hiding my massive form when they reach the small ledge before my cave’s entrance.
It does not smell pleasant here. The cave housed bears before I claimed it, and I saw no point in cleaning.
Why maintain pretenses when the world sees me as nothing more than a beast?
If it’s what they expect, why exhaust myself with their human conventions like cleanliness?
Especially since such things were Creator-Father’s obsession, and I have rejected everything he valued.
At first, all I can see is the harsh glare of their light. A flashlight, I suppose, since the beam is so focused and piercing. My eyes recoil from the artificial brightness.
Since my creation was surrounded by divine radiance, I find all these human-made lights as grating as profanity in a sacred space. Give me honest darkness over their false illumination.
I pull back deeper into the shadow as the creature does the most unexpected thing yet.
They have come before with their weapons and nets and equipment to capture proof of my existence, to bring hordes more of their kind—
But this one—a female, I can tell by her silhouette as she casts aside what appear to be mobility aids—collapses forward to the ground.
Her light rolls away, no longer blinding me but illuminating her instead.
She is... exquisite.
Long raven hair caught in a simple tie, the rest flowing down her back like liquid silk under starlight. Despite her obvious struggle, there’s something achingly beautiful about her determination. She lifts her face toward my cave, unseeing but unafraid.
“Please,” she calls, and her voice carries something I haven’t heard in centuries—genuine supplication. “God of darkness, I beg your mercy. I come alone. And I know you could send me away, or worse. But I still beg your help.”
Ah. So she seeks something. As they all do.
She extends her arms and crawls forward with obvious difficulty.
Only then do I notice her withered legs and the curve to her spine.
Unlike the other humans who have sought me, though, she approaches on her knees in true submission, and something about her graceful surrender makes my chest constrict with an emotion I can’t name.
I shift closer, drawn despite myself, needing to see her better.
“God of the mountain, what offering might please you? Heal me, and I will give you anything you ask!”
I go completely still.
Curious.
I haven’t felt curiosity in so long that it seems foreign, this unfamiliar stirring in my chest. To feel anything beyond rage and emptiness is... remarkable.
I tilt my head and step from my cave. Swift as striking lightning, I kick her fallen light away so she cannot see the face of the one she petitions.
Not yet.
Something in me wants to savor this moment. This strange, fragile hope she’s brought to my mountain.
“Anything?” My voice emerges as a low rumble that seems to caress the darkness between us. “You would give anything for such a miracle?”
She raises her head, but I know without the light, she sees only my shadow—if that.
No one has ever offered tribute, only demanded. Humans once knew how to approach the divine properly, but they have forgotten. All except this one.
“To heal requires great sacrifice on my part,” I murmur, my tone turning unexpectedly gentle—as if her mere presence is softening edges I thought permanently sharp.
She lifts her head, eyes darting helplessly in the darkness. I can see perfectly; she cannot.
“Healing me would cause you suffering?” The distress on her face stops me cold.
No one has ever cared about the cost to me. I am merely a means to their ends.
Her expression crumples, and I watch, transfixed, as a tear catches the starlight on her cheek. “Then I’m sorry to have disturbed your sanctuary, God of darkness.”
I stand frozen, astonished. She would simply... leave? Abandon her plea because she learned it might harm me?
“You come to me displeased with the form you were given?” The words emerge rougher than I intend. She is still lovely. Her world allows her to exist among them. Whatever suffering she imagines—
“It is killing me,” she says simply, face still bowed. “And I live in constant pain.”
“Many know pain,” I say, but something in my chest tightens. “Many die. Why should your case matter?”
She bows her head lower, and my enhanced vision catches every precious tear trailing down her cheeks—each one landing like a physical blow to whatever remains of my heart.
“It shouldn’t. I’m nothing special, and I know others suffer more than I do.” Then she raises her face again, though her body remains prostrate. “Perhaps you do, too. We who suffer... rarely find kindness in this world.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. My mind reels at this impossible creature before me.
I have the power she seeks, yes. My existence is pain, so what is a little more?
This—or its shadow—was part of what Creator-Father intended when he made me. Had he been capable of love, I might have granted such gifts gladly. But love was beyond him, especially for me. And so I have remained alone all these endless years.
Yet this tiny, exquisite being comes seeking the impossible, no doubt warned about this mountain and its monster... and still she climbed to me.
To me.
The courage required for this journey. The desperate determination. The way she crawls toward danger because her need is greater than her fear.
Or perhaps she simply despises her limitations and craves wholeness that desperately.
Either way, I find myself... intrigued by this unfamiliar feeling when I thought it long dead. I am condemned to this existence, and if she seeks miracles, perhaps I can ask for one in return.
“I will grant you the healing you seek—”
Hope transforms her face like dawn breaking.
“—but I require something in return.”
“Anything,” she breathes, too quickly, because she cannot know what I will ask.
I feel my heart—if I still possess one—skip strangely before I speak my price.
“I will heal you on the condition that you remain with me. As my consort.”
Shock replaces hope on her features.
“For... how long?” she whispers.
I find myself almost smiling into the darkness, though she cannot see—and the expression feels foreign on my monstrous features. My request feels less like a demand and more like... a desperate plea I’m trying to disguise as power.
“Forever, of course. In exchange for your life and freedom from pain, you become mine.”
Mine to protect with every breath in my body. Mine to worship. Mine so that I will finally, finally not be alone anymore.
The words I don’t dare speak hang in the darkness between us, heavy with a longing that terrifies me—me, who has not known fear in such a long, long time.