Chapter 2
2
I t hurt. It hurt so much.
Skylar’s vision blurred, the world fading into a red-tinged nightmare. The pact—that ancient, cursed agreement binding her family to the royal bloodline—surged through her veins like liquid fire. It burned, searing away her humanity with each passing moment, her consciousness beginning to fracture.
No. Please, make it stop.
Her silent pleas went unanswered, lost in the deafening roar of her own pulse. A second heartbeat thundered in her chest, alien and powerful, drowning out her own. Its rhythmic pulsing echoed in her skull, threatening to split her head in two. Skylar gritted her teeth, jaw clenched so tight she thought it might shatter.
She couldn’t stop it. The realization choked her, leaving her gasping and trembling. No matter how desperately she clung to her sense of self, she was powerless against a Clawborne’s command. Always had been. The pact would not be denied.
Hurry up, damn bird!
A scream tore from her throat, raw and primal, echoing across the battlefield. For a terrible moment, it silenced the clash of steel and shouts of men. It was a sound of pure agony, of a soul being ripped apart again and again and again. Skylar collapsed, fingers clawing at the blood-soaked earth. Her body convulsed as the true materialization began. She pounded her fists against her chest as hard as she could, desperate to stop her heart—to end this unbearable torture. And her life.
“Skylar!” Arye’s voice cut through the veil of pain, sharp with panic. He must have realized what she was trying to do.
She wanted to look at him, to memorize his face one last time before she lost herself completely. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bear for him to see her like this—weak, broken, and so very inhuman.
“Stay back!” she managed to choke out, the words tasting of copper and ash. Her tongue felt swollen, too large for her mouth, making speech a monumental effort. “Don’t look at me,” she whispered, her final words full of shame. “Please.”
The air around her crackled with energy, heavy with the scent of ozone and… Lavender? Her skin felt too tight, as if it might split at any moment. The beast stirred within, its presence an ache in her chest.
Skylar arched her back, a guttural moan escaping her lips as she felt the Gryphon growing inside her. Its talons scraped her bones, each movement a shockwave of agony. Her spine contorted unnaturally, flesh rippling and shifting to accommodate the beast’s form.
Through the red haze of pain, Skylar was dimly aware of the chaos erupting around her. Clanking of armor and panicked cries created a symphony of fear, punctuated by the thud of retreating footsteps. Snippets of terror caught her attention.
“The Duke… By the gods, what’s happening to him?”
“Run! Run, you fools!”
“It’s a demon! The Duke is possessed!”
Hooves thundered closer. “Hold your positions, you cowards!” Captain Knox’s steel-edged voice brooked no argument, even as supernatural horror unfolded before them.
Skylar sensed the newer recruits watching her, their gazes a palpable weight. She could almost taste their fear, their awe, their revulsion. They must have heard the stories, of course—whispered tales of the Anathemark’s curse. But to see it manifested before them, to witness their stoic leader giving birth to something decidedly not human… it was beyond comprehension.
Her pain crescendoed, reaching a fever pitch that threatened to shatter her very being. An eternity passed in minutes. Just when Skylar thought she could endure no more, she felt the Gryphon’s beak pressing against her back from the inside. With a final, agonized scream, the Divine Beast burst forth in a cloud of dark fog and steam.
The world exploded into chaos. The ground beneath her trembled, the very earth seeming to recoil from the unholy birth. The air grew thick with the stench of brimstone and the scent of magic older than time itself.
The Gryphon materialized beside her, its form coalescing and growing rapidly. Within seconds, it stood twice as tall as her warhorse—a creature of impossible beauty and unimaginable horror. Its body was that of a lion, powerful and sleek, covered in golden fur that shimmered with an otherworldly light. Massive eagle’s wings stretched from its back, each feather edged in silver. Its head was that of an eagle, fierce and proud, with eyes that burned like molten gold. A wickedly curved beak completed the nightmarish visage.
The beast’s presence was overwhelming, a force of nature made flesh. The air around it shimmered with heat, distorting the very fabric of reality. Each breath it took was a gale, stirring up dust and debris in small whirlwinds.
As the fog dissipated, Skylar slumped forward, gulping for air. Her clothes and skin remained unmarred, as if nothing had happened. But the echoes of pain still reverberated through every fiber of her being. Her perception shifted, her awareness expanding. She could feel the Gryphon’s presence in her mind, its thoughts bleeding into her own, blurring the line between human and beast.
“The Duke’s eyes are… golden?” A soldier’s whisper reached her ears, barely audible over the pounding of her own heart.
Skylar noticed the Gryphon turn its gaze upon the assembled crowd, regarding them with an alien intelligence that was at once ancient and terrifyingly aware. Through their shared consciousness, she sensed it bow its head to the Clawbornes, a gesture of fealty that felt almost mocking in its grace.
King Lyinell stepped forward, his voice steady but strained. Skylar, attuned to the subtleties of court politics, sensed the tension in his words, a hint of fear he couldn’t quite mask. “Divine Beast, protector of Regalclaw,” he intoned across the battlefield. “Obey our pact and fulfill your duty!”
Inside her mind, Skylar screamed. She was still there, trapped within her own body yet connected to the beast, disoriented and afraid. The thoughts pounded in her head, a relentless drumbeat that drowned out all reason.
Protect the kingdom.
Destroy the enemies.
Kill them all.
Skylar struggled against the tide of bloodlust, desperately trying to hold onto her humanity. Her thoughts. Her personality. But they slipped away like sand through her fingers. Reality seemed to pulse and throb, colors becoming more vivid, scents more intense. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright.
The Gryphon’s head snapped towards the battlefield, nostrils flaring as it scented the air. With an ear-splitting shriek that shook the very ground, it launched itself into the sky—taking Skylar’s consciousness with it. Powerful wings carried it aloft, each beat stirring up clouds of dust and debris.
Suddenly, Skylar saw the world from high above the battlefield, through the Gryphon’s eyes. Everything sharpened, gained definition. She picked out individual soldiers in the writhing mass below, smelling their fear, hearing the frantic beating of their little mortal hearts.
The Divine Beast reveled in their terror. It whispered dark possibilities, painting vivid pictures of carnage and destruction. Why stop at the enemy? After all, even the most loyal soldier could turn traitor. But the true danger might lie much closer to the throne—a blazing flame that is waiting to devour everything. Wouldn’t it be safer to annihilate everyone but the King?
No!
Skylar railed against these thoughts, horrified by their brutality. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t a monster, a mindless killing machine. She was…
Who was she?
The question echoed in her mind, unanswered. She couldn’t remember. Everything was slipping away, consumed by the Divine Beast’s overwhelming presence.
Maybe the Gryphon was right. Humans were all the same. None of them were special. It didn’t matter if all of them were killed, as long as the Regalclaw and the Clawbornes were safe. That was the pact. All that mattered. Power to protect. Wouldn’t a kingdom without people guarantee safety?
Yes. That makes sense.
“Skylar!”
A voice. Familiar. Important. It sliced through the cloud of bloodlust, anchoring her for a brief moment.
“Sky, don’t lose yourself. Find your way back to me.”
Arye. It was Arye calling to her. Not commanding, not ordering, but asking. Pleading. His voice carried a rare vulnerability.
For a heartbeat, Skylar’s mind cleared. She saw Arye below, kneeling beside her own motionless body, shaking her shoulder. His face was a mask of concern and determination. Then, as if sensing her presence, Arye looked up, his eyes locking onto the Gryphon’s high above. There was no fear in his gaze. Only a fierce, unwavering trust that made her heart ache with longing.
In that moment of clarity, Skylar seized control. Her awareness snapped back to her own body. With every ounce of willpower she possessed, she forced the Gryphon to obey her will. The effort was monumental, like trying to redirect a river with her bare hands.
“Destroy the enemy who crossed our borders,” she ordered, her voice a guttural roar that barely resembled human speech. The words tore at her throat, leaving it raw and aching. “But don’t you dare harm a single Regalclaw soldier.”
The Gryphon shrieked in acknowledgment, the sound piercing Skylar’s ears like daggers. The beast wheeled in the air before diving towards the Thorncrest lines. Divine talons ripped through armor and bodies alike, the screech of tearing metal indistinguishable from the agonized screams of the dying. That cruel beak crushed skulls and tore limbs from bodies, the sickening crack of bones and wet squelch of sundered flesh turning Skylar’s stomach. Blood and gore rained from the sky, painting the battlefield a glistening crimson.
Carrion birds dove between the Gryphon’s attacks, pecking at the eyes of the fallen and feasting on the entrails of the disemboweled, their raucous cries decorating their feast. The sight sickened Skylar, yet she couldn’t look away. It was as if she was watching the carnage through two sets of eyes—her own horror-struck gaze and the Gryphon’s predatory vision.
Skylar felt every death, every scream of agony. Tears streamed down the Gryphon’s face—her face—a bizarre sensation that only added to her disorientation.
Through the chaos, she heard Captain Knox’s voice, unusually high. “By the roots, look! Thorncrest’s breaking!” The awe in his tone was palpable, even through Skylar’s fog of anguish.
“Push forward!” King Lyinell’s triumphant command rang out. “Victory is within our grasp!” Skylar could almost feel the surge of renewed energy in the troops around her.
The battle raged on, time losing all meaning. With each life the Gryphon took, Skylar felt herself slipping further away. The beast’s bloodlust was overwhelming, drowning her humanity in primal violence.
The sensations overwhelmed her. She tasted blood. Torn cloth caught under her fingernails. The crack of breaking bones echoed in her ears. The disgusting smell of voided bowels burned in her nostrils. And everywhere, shocked gazes met her own.
Where did the Gryphon end and her own senses begin?
Just as she thought she might lose herself completely, strong arms embraced her. The world around her shifted abruptly. Skylar blinked, disoriented.
Oh.
She was no longer soaring above the battlefield, but kneeling once more in the blood-soaked mud. The position of the sun startled her—hours had passed in what felt like mere moments. The sudden shift in perspective was dizzying, leaving her reeling.
Arye held her tightly, his body a solid warmth against her back. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the thundering of his heart. His armor pressed uncomfortably against her, the metal cold even through her clothes. “I’ve got you, Sky,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. His voice was low, meant only for her. “You did well. Let go now.”
Skylar sagged against him, utterly spent. Lavender fragrance and a golden light washed over the battlefield. The Divine Beast was gone, its task fulfilled, leaving her feeling whole yet hollowed out. Every inch of her body ached, as if she’d been beaten by iron rods. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion, barely able to support her weight. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, and she realized she must have bitten her tongue at some point during the transformation. The metallic flavor made her stomach churn.
As awareness slowly returned, Skylar became conscious of the whispers surrounding them. Countless eyes seemed to bore into her, the air thick with a mixture of awe and fear. Their voices drifted to her, a low murmur of disbelief and horror, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath and the shuffling of feet as soldiers unconsciously backed away.
“Did you see? The Duke is truly cursed!”
“A monster. That’s what he is. A gods-damned monster.”
“How can we trust him? How do we know he won’t turn on us next?”
Each word was a knife in Skylar’s heart, twisting and cutting deeper with every syllable. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out their accusations. But she couldn’t escape the truth of them. She was a monster, a freak of nature bound by an ancient curse. How could anyone ever look at her the same way again?
Shame burned hot in her chest, threatening to consume her. She had saved them, hadn’t she? Turned the tide of battle and secured victory for her kingdom. And yet, a small part of her, a part she didn’t want to acknowledge, had reveled in the destruction. The power, the freedom of giving in to the Gryphon’s primal nature… it had been intoxicating. What did that say about her?
She forced her eyes open, needing to see, to know despite the darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision. Her gaze found Arye’s face, searching for any sign of revulsion or fear. What she saw there made her breath catch in her throat.
Hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred burned in Arye’s eyes as he glared at the whispering soldiers. His jaw was clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. His lips moved, forming words she couldn’t hear. And then everything went black.