Prologue
Monster
Iam not a monster.
Yes, you are, the voice inside my head hisses.
The moon hangs like an open wound above the lake, bleeding silver into crimson water. Below, the city burns with light and music. Laughter. Drums.
The Dragon Song.
A prayer wrapped in fear, a plea offered to the monster in the mountains.
Offered to me, their cursed king.
The dragon and I were meant to save this world. Instead, we damned it.
The memories come rushing in. The flames. My people’s screams. I grip the balcony rail in an attempt to ground myself,clenching so hard that the stone splinters beneath my palms. The scent of roses drifts up from the gardens below, sweet and deceiving. The beast inside these walls shifts, pacing, its hunger scraping against my mind like claws.
Let me out,it whispers.Let me feed.
Not yet,I snarl through the bond.
The chains hold, for now. But I feel them weakening with every breath. No matter how many binds are forged, no matter how deep the runes are carved into these stone walls, they never hold him.
The air hums. The thousands of stained glass windows in the keep tremble, threatening to shatter as the beast lets out a massive roar. Even the stars seem to dim. Six hundred years, three hundred Bloodmoons, and still the curse burns as hot as the day it began.
The door to my chambers creaks open behind me. Arther’s voice cuts through the haze of rage now flooding my mind. “It’s time, my lord.”
Arther, my truest—and perhaps only—friend in this cursed place steps forward, his eyes downcast. Neither of us takes pleasure in what comes next.
“They wait by the lake,” he says quietly.
The sacrifices. Twelve women dressed in white, clutching roses as red as blood.
I close my eyes, and the beast snarls its approval, making the castle walls tremble.They are ours. Let us take them.
I turn from the balcony, and the stones quake beneath my boots. Torches flicker as I pass, my shadow stretching across the walls like wings. I descend the stairs, the air thick with smoke and desire.
But before I reach the doors, I stop, drawn to the aroma of roses.
The beast lets out a growl of protest as I step into the garden. Moonlight spills across the petals, illuminating them in a vivid red. I reach for a bloom and yank it up by its stem, its thorns cutting deep into my palm. Blood runs between my fingers, dark as wine.
For a heartbeat, I feel. For a moment, I remember what it was to hope. That someone might come. That the prophecy whispered in these ruins might be more than a cruel jest of the gods. That salvation might wear a white dress and a mortal face.
Then another roar splits the sky—and with it, the last fragile thread of restraint. I cannot hold him back any longer.
The castle shakes. The lake ripples red. The sky darkens with shadow.
And when I look down, the rose has turned to ash.
Maybe I wasn’t born a monster. But I fear I’ll forever be remembered as one.
PART ONE
Thorns
Chapter 1
