A strangled howl sounds from the dungeon tower. He’s worked up too. This human’s scent will stink up the castle for days.
Whispers and gasps echo as I enter the main causeway. The servants flit around, hiding in door frames and scuttling into different rooms. Are they afraid of the human… or of me?
Ice trails from my paws with each step and I look down, stiffening at my reflection. The hideous, horrific beast stares back at me. With a roar, I scratch the image with my claws. How dare this human force me out of my wing during the night? Why would he brave the Briar and dare come into my castle? To laugh at the beast?
“Hello?” the voice echoes again and now I’m running through the hallways until I skid to a stop on the ramparts, looking down into the great hall.
There he is.
The invader.
He’s a tall man, in his extended years, with brown hair flecked with gray. He carries his weight in his rotund belly, but otherwise looks sturdy enough. Soaked clothing sticks to his skin, and his sack drips water all over my floor.
I always forget how pathetic humans are until I look at them.
I could kill him and be done with it. But Ez wouldn’t like that. He’s got a soft spot for the pathetic things in life.
Maybe that’s why he’s got a soft spot for me.
“A wayward traveler, Master,” a voice says from behind me, and I don’t bother turning to know it’s Marigold. “He looks soaked to the bone. Should I set him up with some tea and a fresh cloak—”
“No,” I snarl. “He’s not to stay. He’s lucky not to die for trespassing.”
Marigold sighs. “Yes, Master.”
I grit my fangs, inhaling the thick air of the castle, heady and moist. Only a stupid human. Nothing more than that. I will deal with it, return to my chambers, and it will be nothing more than a disturbing occurrence. The tree… The damned tree. It will destroy Farron to hear the Vale is so weak—
“I was chased by goblins,” the human cries as he wanders through the great hall. Orange light from the fireplace dances over his skin. “I’m looking for my wife.”
“He’ll die if you send him back out there, Master,” Marigold whispers. “Look at him. Could have been a looker if he weren’t so drenched. Sad little mite.”
“Goblins are a consequence of trespassing in the Briar,” I growl. Sometimes I wish Marigold feared me as the others did. I must deal with this intruder before the servants’ soft hearts and softer heads have them throwing him dinner and a dance.
I take a step back toward the shadows. A few harsh words uttered from the dark will have the short-lived being scurrying back out into the fray. I don’t need to show myself to own dominion of my castle.
As I open my mouth to bellow down to the wretched interloper, he walks toward the fireplace and reaches a hand toward the thick, black thorn bushes that lace through the stone wall and creep over the mantle.
“Fascinating,” he whispers.
I watch with morbid curiosity, saliva dripping down my fangs, as he traces his hands along the spiny branches. Yes, peasant, not even our castle is safe from the Briar. And you will learn soon this is no sanctuary—
“Roses,” he mutters. And he sees them, tucked within the brambles. Some of the last blooming remains of Castletree. The few resilient survivors who would not be so easily smothered by thorn and root. The last symbols of hope that our home may yet withstand a little longer. That there may be hope for the cursed souls who reside here.
“A rose,” the human says again and reaches his hands into the brambles. “A rose for my Rose. I promised her, after all.”
My pupils dilate as the scene plays out before me: this human daring to take a piece of the last life of our hallowed tree. He plucks the rose from its stem and delicately pulls it back through the brambles. Then he steps into the light of the fire and admires it. A blood-red bloom.
“Oh dear,” Marigold whispers.
All the mercy and curiosity drain out of me. He… He stole it. He took life from Castletree.
I had wanted to offer forgiveness. I had wanted to show humanity. But he lost that right when he stole from the House of the Queen. Now, the man within me lets loose the reins of control and frees the beast.
With a snarl, I leap over the side of the railing, landing with a boom in the shadows of the great hall. The man jumps, the rose falling from his grasp. “Who goes there?”
I prowl to the other side, staying deep within the shadows. He blanches, trying to track my movements in the dark.
“I am the master of this castle,” I rumble, “and you are a trespasser and a thief. Do you know the punishment for thieves in the Enchanted Vale?”