The Beast's Ward

Chapter Twelve: The Spell

"Isa? Isabel?" A man called to me, his voice a soft breath on the lilac scented wind.

I sat beneath the garden's large oak, the garden's lush grasses and shrubbery bathed in the vibrant colors of the sunset. I struggled with the exuberant skirts of the blue and silver ball gown as I climbed onto my feet. I could see the shadowed form of a man standing by the statue of Hades and Persephone. His back was to me as he admired the statue. Again I heard him calling, "Isa? Isabel? Where are you?"

I ran towards him, my feet striding across the lawn, intent on their destination. My racing heart urged me forward. I was compelled by a rush of urgency. I must reach this man, whoever he may be.

As I drew closer to him, I came to recognize his silhouette more and more. I recognized the broad shoulders and the golden blond of his hair. He was human, as he had appeared once before, but he looked different. His hair was shorter and his beard had been shaven. He turned his head towards me and I saw that he wore a black mask that covered his face from his nose to his hairline. Only his mouth remained uncovered. His eyes shone at me with their silvery sheen from the mask's empty eyes. He wore the servants' black and white uniform. It was disheveled. The pants and jacket were wrinkled and the white shirt's collar was unbuttoned. There was a rip over his heart and there it was stained crimson. "You came back." He shuttered, stepping out of the shadow cast by the statue. He was unnaturally pale, his lips almost a shade of blue.

"I never left." I breathed, sucking air through my mouth as I tried to register his appearance. Reaching towards me, he tried to take another step forward but instead crumpled into the grass.

"Christopher!" I screamed falling to my knees by his side. "What happened to you!" I cried, tears falling onto his black mask. "Did Rosalyn do this?" I demanded, patting his cheek to keep him awake. His eyes were rolling around in his head; their silver irises fading in color as they took on the milky sheen of death.

"No." He whispered, his breath barely audible over my sobbing. He stared up at me, his rolling eyes fixating on my face. He reached up to touch my cheek with his freezing fingertips. "You did."

I looked at him in confusion at first, but when I looked down at myself I saw that my hands and the front of the beautiful ball gown were drenched in his blood. I did this. I did this to him. He let out a shuttering breath and went limp in my arms. I killed the beast.

I awoke flailing around in my bed like a landed fish. I screamed and unceremoniously rolled off of the bed, landing painfully on my back. The wind was knocked out of me and I laid there gasping for air. I stared up at the ceiling, mentally giving thanks to God that that was only a dream.

"Did you have a nightmare, Dear?" A woman with pale gold hair and empty eyes leaned over me. She smiled gleefully at me. "I love those. Dreams fade away from your memory, easily forgotten, but nightmares you always remember."

"Rosalyn." Her name spat from my mouth like a curse.

"Don't look at me like that. You're the one who asked me to come. You are to be my apprentice, remember?" She sighed as if bored with this whole venture and sat at the edge of my bed.

I dragged myself shakily up from the floor as I tried and miserably failed to hide my contempt. "I agreed to learn from you. That doesn't mean I have to stop hating you." I said and was somewhat startled by the growling nature of my voice.

"True enough." She muttered, brushing idly at the skirt of her black dress. "I hate this ugly thing." She huffed, making a sour face.

"Then why wear it?" I growled, retreating to my wardrobe to find something for myself to wear.