Beast

No one dared approach the manor on the hill after dusk—not since the night Elise Carter’s father vanished beyond its gates. The villagers whispered tales of a monster. Some said it had the head of a lion and the eyes of a man. Others swore it was once a prince cursed by betrayal. Elise believed neither.

But on the eve of the fifth year since her father’s disappearance, Elise wrapped herself in her mother’s wool shawl and climbed the hill.

She needed truth. Or closure. Or perhaps, punishment.

The iron gate groaned open at her touch. The garden was wild with thorns, nature reclaiming what man had abandoned. But the lights in the windows—dim, flickering—spoke of life. She hesitated at the front door, her fist trembling before she knocked.

No answer.

She pushed it open.

Inside, the manor was silent but not empty. Firelight danced across the walls. A long hallway stretched into shadows. Her footsteps echoed like memories. The air smelled of cedar, dust, and something older—like forgotten sorrow.

Then, a voice.

"You shouldn’t be here."

She spun.

At the base of the staircase stood a figure cloaked in shadow, tall and broad. His voice was rough, low—like gravel wrapped in velvet.

“I came for answers,” she said.

“Turn back. You won’t find peace here.”

She stepped forward, defiant. “You knew my father.”

A beat of silence.

“He trespassed.”

“And you punished him?”

“I spared him,” the figure growled. “The forest did not.”

Elise narrowed her eyes. “Then why did he never return?”

He stepped into the firelight, and her breath caught.

He was no beast. At least, not by nature. His face was beautiful in a tragic way—scarred across the jaw, one eye clouded by what looked like fire, the other piercing green. His hair was wild, black as night, and his hands bore callouses of a fighter. But he stood tall, regal.

She whispered, “Who are you?”

He looked at her for a long moment, as if the answer pained him. “Once, I was Lord Kael of Wrenmoor. Now… I am what remains.”

She stayed.

He tried to frighten her off. He made her scrub floors, tend the fire, read from old books. He watched her from shadows, like a ghost haunting his own home. But Elise was not easily broken. She met his silence with questions, his anger with reason, his solitude with stubbornness.

Each night, she dreamed of fire. Of a roaring beast. Of Kael, screaming, caught between two worlds.

On the seventh night, he joined her at the hearth.

“You look like your father,” he said.

She softened. “You cared for him?”

Kael nodded slowly. “He reminded me of a life I lost.”

Elise tilted her head. “You were cursed.”

His lips twitched. “By war. By grief. By the truth.”

He told her the story—not a fairytale, but a tragedy. Years ago, he’d loved a woman promised to another. The affair sparked war. His brother died. His kingdom burned. The woman chose loyalty over love, and Kael disappeared into the shadows of his own guilt.

Elise listened. Not with pity, but with quiet understanding.

“I don’t believe you’re a beast,” she whispered.

Kael met her gaze, raw and unguarded. “Then you are a fool.”

As the weeks passed, winter softened. Snow melted into rivers, trees blossomed, and the manor began to breathe again. Elise opened windows. She found music in the old piano. Kael began to speak more, laugh softly, even smile.

He was still tormented—but now, by the way he watched her.

She felt it too.

It terrified her.

One night, in the garden, Elise stood under the moonlight, surrounded by blooming roses. Kael found her there, silent.

“Why did you stay?” he asked.

She looked at him, eyes shining. “Because I see the man you buried. And he’s still alive.”

Kael stepped closer, every inch of him aching. “You should fear me.”

“I do,” she whispered. “But not the way you think.”

And when he kissed her—slow, reverent, afraid—she didn’t flinch. She held him like he wasn’t a curse, but a miracle.

The next morning, he was gone.

She searched the manor. The woods. The hill. Days passed.

Then, a letter. On the bed.

Elise,

You showed me light. But I was forged in darkness.

I cannot let my love destroy another life.

Forgive me. Forget me.

—Kael

She didn’t.

She returned to the village. To stories and stares. She worked in her father’s old shop and watched the hill through every season. The manor stood silent again.

But love does not die quietly.

A year later, during the harvest moon, she heard hoofbeats. Riders from the north spoke of a man with a scarred face and a noble heart—uniting broken lands, building peace where there was once fire.

Lord Kael had returned to the world.

And one day, when the wind was warm and the roses bloomed early, Elise climbed the hill again—not for closure, but for a beginning.

This time, he was waiting.

THE END