My eyes aren’t deceiving me.
There, in the furthest distance—maybe even across the lake—is definitely artificial light.
My heart soars with possibility.
We’re not completely isolated after all.
What if escape back to civilization is actually possible?
But even as excitement floods through me, another thought creeps in unbidden:Do I actually want to escape anymore?
FOURTEEN
BEAST
I securethe dungeon door against the sounds behind me, my bloodied bullwhip heavy at my side.
With a deep rumble of frustration, I hang the weapon on its hook beside the reinforced entrance and begin the long climb toward the civilized levels of my castle.
“What is done in darkness will come to light,” Creator-Father used to intone with his theatrical flair. Then he would curse violently. “Except in this cursed instance. Pray with me, Beast, that none of this ever reaches mortal eyes. Or it will herald the End of Days.”
Creator-Father always had a taste for the dramatic.
Talk and more talk, endless pontificating when he wasn’t playing at being a divine inventor. He did so love his delusions of godhood.
And now I’m left to manage the consequences of his twisted experiments.
A particularly anguished howl echoes from the depths below, and I rap my knuckles sharply against the iron door to restore silence.
They know better than to make such noise after correction.
Yes, they felt the sting of discipline today. They should understand the boundaries. I could return immediately, and I rattle the heavy door meaningfully to remind them.
The screaming subsides to manageable levels.
Good.
I’m halfway up the ancient stone steps when I hear something that stops me cold—sounds from the upper levels that don’t belong. This castle should contain only howling wind and the occasional disturbance from below. Nothing more.
I know every whisper and groan of these stones intimately.
So that rapid patter-patter-patter-patter echoing down from above is unmistakable.
It’s a mortal sound.
The delicate percussion ofherfeet on stone stairs. She’s running down them.
The reason crystallizes immediately.
She’s attempting to flee again.
Heat builds in my chest, making the divine spark there pulse with golden light in the stairwell’s darkness. I disappear into the dungeon for mere hours, and she thinks the quiet gives her an opportunity to escape?
I shake my head, more disappointed than surprised.
If anything, I’m angry only at my own failure to make her understand her place here.
You’ve been too gentle with her. Too intoxicated by the pleasure she brings to do what must be done.
