Sold to The Beast

iv

She crosses the room, gathering what little strength she has left and slams the stool against the hearth. It is a violent percussion, timber against stone, and it echoes, its impact sending a flurry of wooden shards skittering across the marble floor, clattering and scraping in a chaotic dance, and leaving Kore with a makeshift stake. The wood is coarse under her fingertips and she looks to the stake, rough-hewn and unrefined. It is not much, but it is enough.

The silence that follows is heavy and hanging, and there is a part of Kore that relishes in it, knowing that if sleep does find her, she will not be unprotected. It is a silence too easily disturbed by the distant footsteps of another, and Kore's grip tightens around the stake, ignoring the rough edges that dig into her palm. The gait outside the chamber is heavy and the closer it draws, the more Kore knows it does not belong to any casual passerby.

She presses her back against the chamber's wall and waits, every sense heightened. The sound grows steadily, each footfall a soft whisper in the corridor outside, each movement measured and deliberate. Then, as suddenly as they had begun, the footsteps cease. Apprehension pricks at her skin, and she finds herself realizing whoever it is, they stand outside of the chamber, separated from her by mere inches of iron and wood. A stillness fills the air, and Kore's mind races, her mind conjuring a thousand scenarios, each more unnerving than the last. A guard? A merc—

It is the familiar shift of a metal mechanism and the slow groan of the chamber's door that silences her thoughts. Kore watches the door widen and the dark frame that appears from behind it. A man enters, his figure haunting and his features hidden beneath shadows but it is what lies in his hand that catches Kore's eye. A blade. It's a dagger, its blade an undulating serpent of silver that gleams against the scarce light that illuminates the room. He has come to kill her. And it is a grim truth, how she is no longer the hunter but rather, the hunted. Kore loathes it, how easily she has become a pawn in a game she has never wanted to play.

'Althieme,' He lulls and there is a moment Kore pauses, her breath catching in the confines of her throat, wondering if he senses her presence, if he knows she is only paces away. 'Althieme.'

Adrenaline courses through her veins, and her pulse races as she steps forward, her footsteps silent against the stone. She raises the stake and in a sudden bid for survival, drives it deep into his flesh. A guttural howl shatters the tense silence, a sound more beast than man that echoes off the stone walls with primal ferocity. The curved dagger falls just as its master, slamming against the marble floors. Kore does not need to look down to decipher the warm liquid that spans the lengths of her fingers; she knows it all too well from her hunts. Blood.

'Dunara kreth,' The man's breaths become ragged; each inhales a strained rattle, each exhales a growing release. Kore keeps her distance, circling him as she nears his dagger. 'I will kill you.'

The man's figure violently contorts, a grotesque and gruelling spectacle, and Kore watches it all, an unwilling voyeur. Muscles bulge and stretch, tearing the fabric of his clothes as his frame expands. The flesh ripples, dark fur sprouting like a violent storm across the landscape of his body. His jaw juts forward and she watches in horror as it elongates into a snout filled with honed teeth that gleam against the dying light of the hearth. Hands shift into claws, each finger ending in a deadly curved talon that scrapes against the stone floor in a sinister screech. It is no longer a man and when it finally raises its head, Kore wonders what nightmare it belongs to. For while it wears the skin of a wolf, it is much larger than any wolf Kore has ever seen.

A low growl emanates from the creature's throat and Kore knows that if she does not move first, it will. She lunges towards the dagger, her body crashing against the unforgiving marble with a jarring thud. Pain erupts from her side and the cold floor sears her skin. It is as if the ground itself has knocked the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping. She stretches her hand, fingers brushing against the cool metal of the dagger's pommel. As the creature advances, a shadow of death, Kore's grip tightens and she raises the blade.

The blade finds its mark, plunging into the beast's underbelly. A howl tears through the room, a terrible cacophony. Blood seeps from the gaping wound and spills onto the marble below, creating a macabre tableau. It clings to her skin, its warmth a grotesque contrast to the cold fear that plagues her body. The creature moves then, its legs lifting and Kore watches the length of the dagger's blade grow until it is no embedded within the beast.

The creature staggers back and Kore scrambles to her feet, her muscles screaming in protest. She watches it, wide-eyed and vigilant, as the creature's fur begins to recede as if it is the ebbing tide of a dark sea. She listens to the shifting of its bones, observing how its claws shorten and lose their lethal curve, how its figure thins and wanes, becoming more man than beast. The creature's face softens, its jawline contracting and Kore can make out human characteristics once more. He stands there, his body bloodied and bruised, his gaze fixated on Kore.

'Lunarak syr keth, Althieme,' He grunts and though she is sure it is a curse from the disgust that underlies his words, she does not know what it means. She does not care to.

His breaths come in laboured rasps and Kore notices how his eyes, once siphoned silver, have now dulled to a human's gaze. They lock onto her, a silent understanding passed between predator and prey. He moves then, his gait unsteady and his figure hunched. She could kill him here for while she may be weak, he is weaker and he is bleeding. But she would risk that thing returning and if it does, she is not sure if she will live to see the morning. She remains silent, watching as he teeters towards the door, his eyes unmoving from her. He leaves then, and Kore releases a breath she hadn't even realized she had held as she listens to the locking of the door.

He leaves as quickly as he had come, leaving Kore alone in the room of silver and stone. The dagger lies heavy in her hand, its serpent-like blade a cold comfort. She is safe for now and it is a thought that gives her little assurance, for next time, it may be her blood that stains the marble floors.

It is the first time she prays to the Goddess, pleading to protect Callisto from the night and those it keeps.