“The dragon’s scales gleamed like polished emeralds in the torchlight,” I read, watching Beast from the corner of my eye. “Its massive head swung toward the prince, nostrils flaring as it scented human flesh. But the prince stood his ground, sword raised, for he knew that appearances could be deceiving. Not all monsters wished to devour princesses.”
Beast had gone utterly still, his ears pricked forward to catch every word. The wild, anxious energy that had possessed him earlier seemed to drain away with each sentence I read. His breathing slowed, his eyes grew softer, more focused.
Something swelled in my chest. Pride, perhaps, at having found a way to ease his suffering, however temporary. Or maybe it was simpler than that. Maybe it was just the joy of sharing a story with someone who truly listened, who seemed to crave the words as much as I craved answers.
I continued reading, losing myself in the rhythm of the tale. The prince’s clever trick to get past the dragon. The discovery that the princess wasn’t a prisoner at all, but a sorceress who had taken dragon form to protect her kingdom from invaders. The twist when the prince realized he’d been manipulated by his own father, who sought the dragon’s treasure.
Beast moved closer as the story progressed, no longer content to listen from across the room. He positioned himself beside my chair, his massive head level with the armrest as he peered at the pages, studying the illustrations and text as if he could absorb their meaning through sheer force of will.
I angled the book so he could see better, noticing how his eyes tracked across the lines of text.
He could read.
The realization shouldn’t have surprised me. I’d already seen ample evidence of his human intelligence, but somehow, this concrete proof of his former life, his education, made my throat tight with emotion.
“The prince lowered his sword,” I continued, my voice softer now that Beast was close enough to hear a whisper. “‘I was wrong about you,’ he told the dragon. ‘I see now that—’”
Beast’s head snapped up suddenly, ears rigid with attention. Whatever had caught his notice was beyond my human senses,but it clearly alarmed him. Without warning, he bounded toward the door, abandoning our story mid-sentence.
“Wait!” I called after him. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
But he was already gone, the sound of his claws on stone fading as he raced down the corridor.
“Again with the dramatic exits,” I muttered, setting the book aside. “You’d think he’d at least—”
My gaze fell on something that hadn’t been there before. A leaf. Small and green, perfectly formed despite the season, resting on the carpet where Beast had been sitting. It must have fallen from his fur during our reading session.
I bent to pick it up, rolling its smooth surface between my fingers. Fresh, not dried. It must have come from the hidden grove behind the castle. The only place I’d seen living plants since entering the forest.
The memory of my dream surged back, Mama’s words echoing in my mind.“Nature provides, as long as you ask, you shall receive.”
Could it be so simple? I felt foolish even considering it, yet what did I have to lose? This castle was already filled with impossibilities. A beast who was a man, roses that drank blood, and a forest dying around an oasis of life.
“Alright,” I said aloud, feeling slightly ridiculous. “I’m asking. Nature, if you’re listening... I need to know what happened here. To Beast, to the castle, to the forest. I need to understand my connection to it all.”
Nothing happened. The library remained silent save for the occasional creak of ancient timbers settling. Disappointment sank like a stone in my stomach, though what had I expected? For the books to fly off the shelves and open to exactly the page I needed? For Beast to suddenly transform and tell me everything?
I sighed, about to return to my methodical search of the shelves, when the nearest window burst open with a bang. Wind rushed in, cold and smelling of dying pine, swirling around me with enough force to make the pages of nearby books flutter. The leaf I held was plucked from my fingers by invisible currents, dancing through the air toward the open door.
“What in the—” I didn’t finish the thought, already moving to follow as the leaf floated down the corridor, buoyed by wind that shouldn’t have been able to penetrate so deep into the castle.
I chased it, feeling equal parts ridiculous and hopeful. The leaf turned corners as if guided by conscious thought rather than mere air currents, leading me back toward the family bedrooms I’d glimpsed during my previous explorations. It paused before a door I hadn’t tried, hovering as if waiting for me to catch up before slipping beneath the doorframe.
My hand trembled slightly as I reached for the handle. Something about this door felt significant, different from the others I’d explored, prettier too. It opened smoothly, without the protesting creak I’d come to expect from the castle’s ancient hinges.
The chamber beyond was cavernous, three times the size of my own bedroom, which I’d assumed belonged to the lord and lady of the castle. Now I realized my room had likely been that of their daughter or a favored guest. This? This was the master bedroom, the heart of the family’s private quarters.
Or it had been, once. Now it lay in ruins, more thoroughly destroyed than any room I’d yet encountered. The enormous four-poster bed had collapsed on one side, its hangings shredded as if by massive claws. Furniture lay overturned, mirror shards glinted from the carpet, and the walls bore deep gouges that could only have been made by something—or someone—in the grip of uncontrollable rage.
This destruction hadn’t been caused by time or neglect. This was violence. Deliberate devastation born of fury or grief so profound it required physical expression.
Had Beast done this? Had this been his room, before...whatever happened to him? Had he returned here afterward, finding himself transformed, and taken out his anguish on the remnants of his human life?
The leaf completed its journey, settling gently atop an end table beside the ruined bed. One of the few pieces of furniture still standing upright, though its surface was scratched and stained with what might have been old blood.
“I mean no disrespect,” I said softly to whatever ghosts might linger in this devastated space. “I wouldn’t intrude if I didn’t have to. But I need to understand what happened here if I’m to help Beast, and my father.”
Carefully, as if handling something sacred, I approached the end table. The leaf sat atop it, impossibly still now that the mysterious wind had died away. Beside it, the table’s single drawer stood slightly ajar, as if inviting inspection.
