Part 2

Illwayne stirred beneath her dark satin sheets, slowly coming to consciousness. Gradually, she opened her eyes to the darkness that surrounded her. She wondered what time it was. She could never tell with a chamber so far underground. She thrust herself across her large bed, fumbling over to her bedside table, knocking over the unlit candle and stack of books in the process. She groaned loudly, slowly leaning forward to reach for the candle, hoping the bookmarks hadn't fallen out of her novels. After a great struggle, she finally managed to light the goddamned candle and her chamber was filled with dim, flickering light. Illwayne staggered out of her bed, clumsily rising to her feet. She rounded the room, lighting the four other candles stationed atop her bookcase, dresser, table, and pantry. Finally she stopped, in front of her silver plated mirror. The mirror was just taller than Illwayne herself, and so elaborately decorated with swirling silver trails of winding roses that Illwayne couldn't help but look upon the mirror as a reminder. A constant reminder. So she would never forget why she was down her, why she was so concealed.

The jagged scar ran from the left-hand side of her forehead, coursed over the bridge of her nose onto her right cheek, peaking slightly before curving back around and coming to a rest on her lip. The skin puckered, pulling down the lip and revealing her jagged canine. She traced the line, a near ritual for her. She knew it was the reason she was caged away, forced to hide. She knew the mirror remained so she would understand their hatred, their disgust, and their shame. She knew if she ever emerged she would never be accepted. And yet, she was not ashamed. She was not horrified by the mark. This was her reality, her normal, and she did not hate it, did not hate herself. She could not even hate the one who gave it to her. How could she after what they'd done to her?

It had all happened when Illwayne was seven years old. Up until that point everyone had praised her as beautiful, more beautiful than anyone else. She had fluffy blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and an infectious smile. But shortly after her father had died she began acting up in school. One day a boy had been teasing her, calling her names, taunting her. This boy had teased her before. His name was Wifnh, a wealthy son of the prince from the province of Kolqk. The others talked of a marriage between the two, how the boy was expressing his affection, how they would make an appropriate match, the advisor would no doubt approve and appease the Kolqk realm. The thought detested her to her core, so one day when he began picking on her, she tackled him. Screaming, she brought him to the ground. The teachers swarmed, desperate to tear her off, but she gripped him hard. She hated him. She hated them. It was wrong. He was wrong. He was not her father. She would not do what he said or what any of them said. She could not save her father, but she could still save herself. She could only remember the cracking sound. She did not even remember the feeling of the whip as it crashed against her skull.

Later she discovered the mistress had used the whip because she though she would kill him. She had been escorted to her chambers. Forced to stare at the horror that she had created. Illwayne remembered her horrified screech that cut through her bones, deeper than the slice of the whip. She remembered her pleading as she was led off to execution. She was told they had exiled her, but she knew better. She was told the kingdom thought her dead from a sudden disease, that they would only be horrified by the mark, that she would never be accepted. The outside believed it the work of a curse. The advisor was fired. Another took his place. And she was left alone. Closed off inside a box. Because what use did the kingdom have for an ugly woman. What use did the kingdom have for a beast.

Please leave (constructive) comments! Will try to update again soon...but no promises.