As a mysterious and sinister shadow stretched over the city, casting Peter's kingdom and castle into darkness, the howl of the Beast rang out from somewhere in the wild forest.
Gaspard had spent the nightly hours rounding up a mob; they alone would kill the Beast- and if anyone tried to get in their way, anything was fair game. There was a visceral thirst for blood ruminating in the atmosphere and no one who had pursued the hunt had any knowledge that their kingdom had fallen into a shadow.
The Beast's demonic scream echoed out and above the trees; Come on, it seemed to say. Come find me.
Stefan opened his eyes to a strange, blurry world. A comforting warmth was spreading through his body and he became aware of the pain that had put him out; it was now ebbing away slowly, his strength rushing back into his arms and legs. He took a deep breath and sat up.
Marius and Lance looked down upon him; they appeared to be somewhere in the wild forest, where the thick oak moss hung in the cool morning sun.
"What happened?" Stefan asked.
Marius and Lance exchanged glances.
"It was a long night," said Lance. "What can you remember?"
The prince thought for a moment, and then smiled. "I remember breaking a stool over Gaspard's face."
The boys erupted in laughter.
"Good enough for me," said Lance. "But you demanded we come here and you've been in and out of consciousness."
Marius held up a small vial. "I don't have many more of these," he explained. "So tell us what the plan is."
"Do we have horses?" Stefan asked, standing up and shaking leaves off him.
"We have horses and all the supplies you ordered for the hunt," Lance replied. "Though the hunt has already begun."
Stefan furrowed his brow. "That means Gaspard has had a head-start. Damn him!"
"Why are we going after Gaspard?" Marius asked as they packed up their small camp and began to ready the horses.
"Because he's going after my brother," said the prince. "And we're going to stop him."
"So it's true, then," said Lance. "The king has another son?"
Stefan nodded as he steadily mounted his horse, gripping the reins tightly. He slipped on his riding gloves. "Prepare your bows," he told them. "Once we pick up on their trail it will turn into a fight. And if they're anywhere near the Beast then everyone will be in danger."
"The Beast is your brother," said Marius.
Lance cast a confused glance at the prince.
Stefan nodded again. "We have a big problem on our hands. I hope you guys understand the peril you are putting yourselves in before you come with me."
"Shut up, Stefan," Marius remarked.
They set off through the wood without another wasted moment.
The Beast bounded through the wild forest, running against the autumn wind with the power and strength of five horses. He was aware of the men who followed him; his sensitive ears could hear nearly half a mile away, and his heightened vision and smell allowed him full surveillance of his surroundings. There was no way Gaspard and his men would catch up to him unless he allowed them to; the Beast would outrun them- but that was not his goal. This was the Beast's trap, this was his plan to draw Severa out, to challenge her in the ultimate stand-off. Would she show? Or would she allow him to be killed by the hunters?
What the Beast did not realize was that Severa had already laid her own trap, and so the task to meet the Beast in the forest had been given to another-
the Necromancer, of course.
And so from a top of a distant hill the Necromancer looked upon the wild forest. Laid out before him were many different paths: the Beast, the hunters, and the damned prince. They were all running to their death.
"Um, h-hello," said a voice from beside him.
It was the shape-changing elf, Riss. He was occupying his "old man" disguise. Lord Terrowin raised an eyebrow. "Where have you been?"
Riss threw him a reproachful glance. "I was following the girl. The brat prince has her under his protection, however."
"Not anymore," said the Necromancer, "the brat prince is dying now and the girl is under Severa's spell. I assume she sent you here to help?"
Riss nodded.
"Do what you can to lour the Beast to Blackhill. I can hold off the others and meet you there. Severa wants her nephew returned to her."
Riss grinned.
"The Beast is moving in a spiral formation," The Necromancer noted as he watched from his elevated perch among the rocky cliffs overlooking the forest. "He intends to be found sooner than later."
Riss nodded and flexed his long, dark wings.
"You must get to him first and lead him back to Blackhill."
"And what will you do?"
Lord Terrowin smiled. "I'll take care of the rest."
The Beast could hear his pursuers well now; they did nothing to conceal their voices. He would only have to hold them off long enough to make sure there would be enough witnesses. If they could see him transform back into himself then they would know the truth. Everyone would know the truth.
Or they would just kill him.
"Adrian…."
The Beast skidded to a sudden stop—he was sure he had heard it true: someone had said his name.
He scanned the wood around him, from the pillars of sunlight falling through the trees to the shadows that accompanied them. No one was there.
No one knows you, he reminded himself bitterly. Not anymore.
Just ahead of him was an unusual clearing in the wood—a small meadow, strangely familiar. The Beast ventured forth.
I've been here before, he realized. Not so long ago.
And then he saw her again—just as he had before—standing there in the center.
Belle, he thought with a mixture of confusion and elation.
She was not drenched in rain and blood this time, in fact the sunlight fell upon her as if she were in a painting. She smiled.
What are you doing? The Beast thought. How did you get here?
But time was now moving impossibly fast—the voices that had been following him were dangerously close, mere moments away. The rattle of armor and weaponry accompanied the shouts, along with the howling of dogs and whinnying of horses. The hunt was at his heels.
Mary lingered for a moment before turning, and then she dashed into the thick of the forest. The Beast watched incredulously.
"There it is!" came a triumphant shout.
Gaspard and his party poured into the clearing brandishing swords, arrows, and nets. The Beast perceived him with surprise—not this guy, he thought. The one who plays dirty.
Mary was gone now, though, and inexplicably so—she was just here, wasn't she?!
As the Beast was caught up in his confusion, Gaspard seized the moment and flung a tied rope towards him. It caught against the Beast's haunches and pulled tight.
"I got him, lads!" Gaspard announced, seizing the rope with leather-gloved hands. Gaspard's men encircled the Beast with their weapons drawn.
The Beast howled with frustration. No… I need to get to Belle!
From the opposite end of the clearing Stefan and his company burst into view.
"Stop!" the prince yelled at Gaspard. Marius, Lance and the others leapt off their horses and charged toward Gaspard's men with their weapons out.
Gaspard sneered in their direction. "You're not taking credit for this you damn fool!"
And at that moment, an arrow whizzed out from yet another direction from the forest and into the clearing, hitting Gaspard straight in his chest.
It didn't come from Stefan's crew, nor did it come from his own. The Necromancer stepped into the clearing, another arrow knocked and ready to go.
Stefan froze as he watched Lord Terrowin approach, his heart beating hard.
It's him, he realized in cold horror.
The prince didn't know what he was doing, and he didn't care as he drew his sword and walked straight towards the Necromancer, whose eyes were fixed on Gaspard and the Beast.
"No!" Marius yelled, seizing Stefan around his chest and pulling him back. "It's not worth it and you know it!"
Stefan turned furiously to his friend. "He's the one that did this to me! Don't you understand? He deserves to die!"
Lord Terrowin threw the prince a bemused glance with a raised eyebrow. "You're still alive?"
Gaspard had fallen and let go of the rope, and so at that moment the Beast broke free and took off into the wood before anyone could intervene.
Stefan tore his eyes away from the Necromancer… time was moving so, so quickly now and he had to decide: the Necromancer, or the Beast?
Marius placed his hands on the prince's shoulders. "We will take care of this. Trust us. Now go."
Gaspard's men were divided between his limp body on the ground and the approaching foe. All eyes were now on the Necromancer. He did not appear afraid to be outnumbered—in fact, he slowly and calmly set down his bow and drew a whip from his robe. As he muttered a soft incantation, the whip set alight with fire.
"Go!" Marius exclaimed, shoving Stefan forcefully away from the scene.
The prince stumbled into the thick of the wood, stringing his horse along behind him. Around him were the gnarled trees that grew so closely together it was difficult to navigate without a path.
But there is a path… he realized.
The Beast had left one for him to follow. It was where the forest floor was disheveled and disturbed, where broken branches and trampled plants carved a haphazard road. And so Stefan mounted his horse and ventured upon the path, leaving the sound of the battle behind him.
Adrian collapsed onto the steps of Blackhill, returning to his natural form—though this was getting harder, and it exhausted him now in a way it had never done before.
Belle had led him here; he was sure of it. Everything was going to be okay.
He gathered his strength and stumbled into the shadowy entry hall of the castle.
"Belle!" he cried into the darkness. His voice echoed, eventually settling into silence.
"It's me!" he called again, though he did not know why he felt unsure. "It's safe!"
Where is everyone? There was no sign of Martha, or even Clarkson…
He stepped further into the hall, into the castle that had been his home for years but just then felt cold and unfamiliar. Adrian left the door open behind him so the high-morning sun streamed in.
"I'm here," said the voice from the forest.
She was standing at the top of the stairs, enshrouded in shadow.
Adrian stepped forward, leaving the sunlight behind him. He gazed at her silhouette with uncertainty.
"I've been so scared…" she said, her soft voice faltering.
"You were cursed," Adrian remarked hesitantly. "You didn't know me…"
She took a step down. "I do know you. I remember everything now."
"What happened?" Adrian asked, taking a step up. "Does Severa know you're here?"
She took another step down. "Yes, she knows."
Adrian's heart skipped a beat. His mother's necklace now hung around his own neck. He fingered the chain carefully. "Belle… tell me what's happened. Are you… okay?"
"Come closer. I feel weak."
He met her halfway, just as her knees seemed to give out, and caught her in his arms. She was cold to the touch.
"You're freezing," he remarked. "You need the sunlight."
Adrian picked her up and brought her down to the foot of the stairs. "Martha! Clarkson!" He called out, hoping someone would answer his call.
"They're not here anymore," she said softly.
"What do you mean?"
"The Enchantress said it's what you wanted. That all traces of her world fade forever. So she took them back to the land of magic."
Adrian gazed at her incredulously. "Something is wrong," he said. "Belle—what did she do to you?"
She looked up at him and smiled. "She made me a promise."
"Her promises are poison!"
"You betrayed her. You conspired against her. Even now you defy her—but she is pleased that you found me. Now I can fulfill my end of the promise."
Adrian took a step backwards, his mind racing. Belle was smiling—no, that wasn't a true smile. It was… something else. And before he could stop her, she reached out and grabbed his wrist.
A silver chain materialized from the darkness and wrapped itself tightly around his wrist, snaking its way around his hands and binding his arms together.
His first reaction was to transform into the Beast to break his binds—nothing was as strong as the Beast. But he immediately realized he was unable to change.
"What have you done!"
Belle laughed. "I already told you; I made a promise to the Enchantress in return for my life. She has instructed me to give you the terms—er, hang on a second, this façade is terribly uncomfortable-"
The image of Belle melted away before his eyes, and was replaced with the form of some kind of elf—a dark elf with protruding, golden eyes and wings that burst from its back. It was grotesque and all too familiar.
"Recognize me now?" Riss said with a vile grin. "Anyway—here are the terms: you are bound with magic. So long as you are bound, you have no ability to turn into the Beast. Your binds are impossible to break on your own—you'd have to get someone else to do it. And, the Enchantress is obligated to inform you as I am obligated to convey, whoever tries to break your bonds will fulfill their own death sentence. You will transform back into the Beast—only for forever. And their blood will be on your hands."
Adrian was barely listening: he concentrated, harder than ever before, to awaken every fiber of magic in his body. His attempt was met with pain—pain so blinding, he stumbled and landed on his knees.
Riss stood over him and tutted pitifully. "Your struggling only makes it worse, you know."
How did it come to this? How did Severa come out on top every time—he had been so close. So close to exposing her lies, her murderous plot, her lifetime of sins. He was going to meet his father, save his family, save the kingdom, save Belle…
The pain radiated through him like crashing waves—one after another, after another—he could not physically stop himself from resisting his binds.
The dark elf flexed his wings, spreading them out widely. "Your instructions are to stay here—and stay out of trouble. Once I inform the queen that you have been successfully bound, guess what she's going to do?"
Adrian looked up at Riss, his body trembling with the struggle, the pain. He gritted his teeth hard.
Riss looked down at him with mild amusement. "She's going to kill the girl."
Then he threw his head back and laughed—a sound of pure malice, pure hate. It filled the space of the entry hall and echoed throughout the castle.
But suddenly it was replaced with the sound of pain—a howl, a shriek, a scream of anguish like no other—as a sword ripped through one of the dark elf's wings from behind, severing it cleanly. The wing twitched wildly before falling to the ground in a spray of blood. Riss turned in rage and agony to face Stefan.
The prince watched as Riss's face twisted in a rage and lunged toward him—but he was off balance, and in one swift motion Stefan sent the sword through his other wing. This time it made a grotesque ripping sound as blood poured down the elf's arms and back.
At that moment Adrian lunged forward, using his bound wrists to trip the elf and send him falling to the floor. Riss screamed in pain as Adrian crawled on top of him and placed his hands around his throat. In a few short moments the elf was gone from the world and all was dead silent.
Finally Adrian looked up at the prince. "Who… are you?"
Stefan reached his hand out to help Adrian to his feet. "My name is Stefan. I'm your brother."