To Become a Monster - ONC 2024

Chapter One

The boy in the forest looked more god than human, and if not a god, then a king. And despite this, he was unable to entirely feel like either. It wasn't the forest's fault. He had come here like a sacrifice, an offering to real, ancient gods to cleanse himself of this feeling at the altar of his choosing. But it seemed whatever antlered gods did remain in this slice of heaven did not want to drag a cruel piece of hell back with them. 

The stone he had chosen was encased in the shadows of the early night- sweet, crisp and secretive. Only he could see its porous, slate-grey skin, but he paid it no heed anyway, instead letting the fireflies' golden light hide his own as tendrils branched from him into the jade canopy and lime-sick grass. Half-formed words, characters, equations spiralled off into the world, whispered promises of what he could do if he truly wished. 

Tonight, however, was not one for twisted vows. No, tonight was simply about letting go. Such magic would be far more than enough to get him killed, but it was impossible for the beast to remain inside at all times, writhing against the inner layers of his skin. It whirled violently against the rough moss-lined bark around him as if it could remember the confines of his body. And that display was why he had to lie to himself to tame it. If the boy even dared to think that it was good, that he was good while it was loose- he would never cage it again. 

But he had to live. And that meant he had to lie, no matter how much it hurt. 

With that, he began to pull the disgusting whorl of power back into his skin, coaxing its retraction with the promise of a swift return. They knew it was another lie, but what was he meant to do? 

The emerald of the forest began to fade as he pulled away, the sky turning back to its grey, sick, industrial self as the fireflies fell to oblivion with it. His oasis, his reborn, constructed paradise, gone with a single thought. And, true, that forest hadn't been like that for millennia, but the mirage he built was the closest he felt to having a real home. 

The rock was the only thing that remained itself, steadfast and stubborn against time. He ran a calloused hand down it, feeling the last remnants of warmth in it whilst it faded from the night, and left it. His own little broken shrine- lost and forgotten by all except him. 

The gates to the city were a hard stone, with no sense of the kind harshness of his in the forest. That had been carved out of them as they were shaped into undignified perfect rectangles, left to protect the heart of a kingdom they could never believe in. 

"Wilder!" a familiar guard called, finally ending his angst-filled train of thought, "How're you doing?" 

"Pretty good thanks Warren," he smiled, "It's just so busy with the feast preparations. I don't think I can cope with any more stress, and then Theon just gives me another thing to do! It's exhausting." 

The guard just snorted. "Well, you know what the Prince is like. My daughters are really excited though, so you had better make the celebration good." 

"I could never dream of letting them down," Wilder smiled again, watching the guard's hands unlock the menacing black metal of the gates. Warren had learnt long ago of Wilder's routine walks outside of the city, and he could only thank whatever deity that would dare help such an unimportant man like him that his job was tiring enough that he could easily blame that for any other stress and anxiety that may come up. Though, at times like this, he was convinced the combination of stresses would eventually prove fatal. And, maybe, sometimes, he hoped it would be so that Theon would finally let him have a break. Though, knowing what the Prince was like, he'd probably insist that Wilder's corpse or ghost should show up to work.