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9- Harder Than Bone

'Winter may come again, my sweet, sweet child. When the hearts of humans' turn to clumps of stone colder than ice, harder than bone, that is when winter may come.'

The voice of Caspian's nursemaid, Alma, echoed in his thoughts. It had been years since the Lord had last seen the woman that raised him almost as though he were flesh of her flesh and blood of her blood. The nursemaid was of a strong will yet of a gentle tone. Not once had she raised her voice to the little lord.

Caspian eagerly waited for Alma's tales at night to help him find his dreamland. It was those tales of snow that made the young Caspian both excited and scared.

Alma's voice was that of church bells that welcomed an eager groom and his blushing bride to the chapel, into a new life under God. Her tone was not of bells that called to the wretched to fall upon their knees and pray till Kingdom Come in atonement for their sins. In Alma's deep soothing tone, there was forgiveness.

'If the snow comes again, it may be because God has turned to look the other way and that He no longer cares about what goes on on this precious Earth. Perhaps He allowed the little blue spiders to come and steal the warmth of summer away. Perhaps He sent the witch and her flowers so that we could pay for our evil ways. The spiders will scurry past you; you will not be able to see what is going on in their souls because of their dark, dark eyes – eyes as round as buttons and as black as Hell. The cold may be painful, my little lord but it will not hurt as much as the unkindness that will have caused it. No one knows if the snow will ever come again my young lord Caspian, but when it does... oh child, when it does I pray it is long after you have gone to meet your Maker. I pray you never meet the horrible soul that brings snow to the world.'

Caspian lay belly down on the hard stone floor of his chambers. His cheek rested on the ground which had been polished as smooth as a pebble. The lord let out a cry as he felt his bones twisting. He could hear them cracking as they formed into his new body. His arms and legs grew longer, tugging the scaly skin as they adjusted to their new size. Caspian felt the disks of his spine curve inwards towards his ribs, thickening his torso and chest. The man clawed at the floor, writhing in anguish. Six small icicle-like points extended from Caspian's head looking like a crown of thorns.

The white scales that covered his skin softened until they were no longer prickly to the touch. In the full-length dressing mirror Calla kept leaning against the wall, Caspian watched as twin spikes grew out of his shoulder-blades causing him so much pain that for a few seconds he stopped breathing. The spikes grew larger, tearing Caspian's back. Blood fell from either side of the man's body and pooled next to him. Caspian tried to rise when he felt something pulling him up, like a puppeteer tugging on his puppet's strings. He lifted himself up on his elbows but swiftly fell back down when he saw that the spikes had turned into large leathery wings, big enough to carry a full-grown man, or full-grown monster, around Transylvania with ease.

Soon enough, bones began to mesh together. Skin began to heal. Caspian sucked in mouthful after mouthful of air as the pain began to subside.

Laying in a puddle of blood, Caspian closed his eyes and allowed the final transformation to finish. He drew in a breath and the scent of his own blood filled him all the way to the core of his being. Caspian realized that he hungered. He turned his head, lapped at the blood surrounding him and when that was no longer enough, he began licking the blood off his own skin. His tongue ran over the scales, yet it was not displeasing. When he had his fill, the monster of the manor rose on all fours before standing on his hind legs. He watched his reflection the whole time as he got up, not as the handsome Lord Caspian, but as a hideous demon newly birthed. The beast stood now as a man does, nearly two feet taller than he had stood before. His skin as pale as the snow outside shimmered as sunlight fluttered over him. Caspian felt a burn on his hand and pulled away from the offending light. He saw a minuscule wound sizzling on the spot the light had touched, a small infliction that he lifted to his lips. His heart thumped faintly behind breast and bone till its beats grew fainter and they nearly stopped. Caspian caught his deep blue gaze in the mirror, his eyes were narrowed slits of rage.

'When the hearts of humans turn to clumps of stone colder than ice, harder than bone, that is when winter may come.'