Netvor: Beauty and the Beast (Now on Tapas)

Prologue

Once upon a time...

That's how my mother began every story she ever told me, even the real ones. It made gleaning what truthful information I could from her difficult at best, but that's how she liked it.

Her stories were filled with the most incredible creatures like trolls, goblins, and giants people called Fae. These magical beings lived all over the kingdom and used their glamour to hide amongst us.

Normally, the Fae didn't like humans revealing their secrets, so we had to be clever. The only way to ensure they didn't hear you was to spread information as a faerie tale because the Fae couldn't tell the difference between a story and a lie.

A lie might be entirely unreal, but stories could hold a kernel of truth, depending upon the teller.

I used to ask my mother:

How might I learn a troll's secrets, or barter with a goblin, or make a Faerie Prince fall in love?

My mother said:

Always help the troll gather their herbs before asking questions, they will appreciate the kindness of the gesture and answer you more honestly.

Always be tough and straightforward with a goblin, they will respect your bravery.

And never fall in love with a faerie, for they are selfish creatures. Their love burns bright and hot and swallows their lover whole and they will not fear setting you aflame.

The only thing a faerie fears is a monster.

I didn't like hearing about monsters because they were frightening and evil, and I made my mother promise never to frighten me. She agreed, but I once asked her: 'If faeries feared monsters, and humans feared the Faerie, what did the monsters fear?'

She was baffled by the question and thought about it for some time.

′Love,′ she said, and I looked up at her in bewilderment.

'Is it so surprising that what a monster fears most is real love?' she asked. 'Love can band countrymen together, douse the fires of pain and anger, and tie two people across lands. Love transforms and destroys monsters.'

There was never really one quality a monster had to possess, they came in a variety of shapes and sizes, colours and descriptions. They were often ugly, but they could be kind at first, then monstrous later.

However, all monsters had names. That's how they live in our world, a name gave them the power to haunt the footsteps of man.

Which brings me to the night my mother forgot her promise. Netvor was the first and only monster my mother ever told me about.

On the eve of her death, she called me into her chamber and threaded her brittle, grey hands through my hair, speaking softly of the monster she called Netvor.

'Listen to my story,' she begged me, her clammy hands leaving a touch of cold along my arm. I stayed still out of fear rather than obedience, and my mother's haggard breath waned. 'There is a creature I have never told you about, but after this night you will know its name for the rest of your life.'

The story of Netvor would be the end of my love for faerie tales and this is how she told it to me:

Once upon a time, in a faraway realm, there were two faeries named Sera and Sill. And they were good friends.

One night, Sill began to have terrible dreams of a monster she called Netvor. It was destined to destroy everything Sill loved.

She begged Sera to use her gift to walk into the future and seek out Netvor and its weaknesses. Sera agreed willingly, but her friend warned her, if you see children, do not look at their future.

During her journey through the future Sera saw a castle in ruins, betrayal and terrible loss, but no Netvor.

Then Sera came to the children Sill had warned her of, but she had grown suspicious. Sill had never spoken of children before. Believing that they might lead her to Netvor, Sera chased the vision of three children, unaware her movements were being watched by a far more powerful force than she.

Sera soon found the truth, but it wasn't about Netvor. Sill had betrayed Faerie law by marrying a mortal king and having children with him. But Sera should have heeded Sill's earlier warning.

Sera's future and past and present all disappeared under the great wing of the Old Crow. Death.

Like all the children of faeries, Sill's had received wonderful gifts from the powerful unseen spirits of the world and Sill's eldest child had been blessed by Death. It was a rare and powerful blessing.

And all faeries know it is unforgivable to look into Death's future.

For Sera's transgressions, the price would be the life of one of her unborn children.

Sera pleaded with Death to save the child she did not yet have. The spirit had never seen a faerie beg, for they are selfish, proud creatures, and was intrigued. To change this future, Death said, when you return, either you or Sill's first-born child must die.

Sera returned to the present in anger. She had seen no hint of Netvor in the future, and Sera believed she had been tricked by her old friend. To spite Sill, Sera told a half-truth. If Sill did not kill her first-born son, she would lose everything, but Sill refused.

They parted.

Sera swore she would never have children less Death uphold his promise and take one from her and Sill kept her mortal life a secret from the faeries.

But the great deception was that Netvor had always been there, hidden. Sera had been looking for a monster, but she didn't know it had been hiding behind a human face and one day it ripped the still beating heart from the chest of a prince.

That was the end of the story and after those last haunting words my mother grabbed my arm tightly and dragged me to the side of the bed. I was forced to stare into her eyes which had been ravaged by the sickness.

'How does a monster walk amongst a crowd of people unseen?' she demanded.

A magical cloak? An enchanted ring? A cursed skin? True monsters are not so fantastical and none of those answers placated my mother. I had felt her strength waning, but her nails bit down into the flesh of my arm all the harder.

'Say it.'

Shaking my head through the tears, I had warbled out the answer.

'He smiles and he is kind, but these gestures are hollow. Only on the surface is he human and only when you are vulnerable does his true nature appear.'

I can remember how her eyes clouded over after that and how she had finally relinquished my arm like a great wind had snuffed out her light.

'Good,' she wheezed.

I begged with tears in my eyes for her to finish the story happily. She told me she couldn't. It was not hers to end.

I didn't realize at the time that Netvor's faerie tale was not a thing of her illness, but something terribly old and terribly sad that had happened long ago..

And the ending would be mine to create.