The stage coach shakes and trembles as it moves along the old road: in it, the hope for a certain dammed hamlet. Such irony that the people who carries this "hope" have none of their own, instead, the promise of a payment, of freedom from the law, of honor and redemption are what they seek. They came to die- or live on like they already have. He is no different.
The town folk are gathering, their sceptic eyes scan every inch of his body, even as he pulls down his ragged excuse of a cloak down, trying his best to cover up the torture mark. A beast in a cage.
The driver, a madman whose grin is permanently imprinted on his feature, drag him from the crowd and hand him a contract- on it, the sigma of a red hook:
"Dear sir, a contract that the most marvelous Heir of this mansion himself have conducted! The one and only, just for you!"
"I- I'm…"
"Look at this! All your past crime forgiven! All your misdeed forgotten! All your desire sated! All is granted … with just a tiny drop of blood!"
"Ye- yes but…"
Before he can object, the caretaker grabs his arm, and violently jam his thumb on the mark. He felt a gushed of pain as the mark bites down his thumb, and his of blood is smears across the paper.
The caretaker looks up, maddening eyes pierce deeply into his own, a whisper most foul escapes his lips:
"All of it for a pinch of blood… and your soul… "
As the madman break into a laugh, he could feel something change within him- the whisper of the other one, silenced, and another takes its place, for just a moment: a command for loyalty, for obedient, for reverence… in exchange for the beast.
He still doesn't know why did he say yes. Such thing… such horror should not be given, shouldn't be let loose- but who can blame him?
He never felt more like himself.
The beast lurks deep in his vein, but for now, just for now…
Peace.
"Deception. Disgrace. Evil as plain as the scar on his face."
He might be one of their "heroes" but that doesn't means he should be trusted. The Heir may keep this one on a tight leash, but that doesn't stop the suspicious glares from the priest, the threats from the drunken town folks, the stare of the head nurse... Deep in their very soul, they know that this man is not human- and why keep him in here instead of out there is beyond them. All they know is: this thing, this creature will not take one step near them or their loved ones.
So here he is- feet dragging through dark forest, heavy chains slippery with sweat, moving ever slowly toward the lonely hill, looking for a respite for his first night at the Hamlet… at the outsider bonfire.