Pre-Notes: Wow, is anybody still with me? Do you even use the same email you get updates from? Well, if you're reading this… hi! I decided to make a short story novelization out of the now defunct 'A Hero's Tale' Flash(?) game. I have a lot of things I've been working on involving writing so I've been absent. And then, of course, I started writing in high school and I'm almost thirty now. I have much less free time (and interest to be totally honest) in fanfiction. I do plan on finishing Fable of the Seven though, but there's a few things I need to do first. I hope I get to share this project I've been working on with you soon!
His mother had been ill that morning. The shaking rasps of her coughs had stirred him from his dreams, but he wasn't mad. It was the same dream he had every night, and never did it make sense.
He closed his eyes and imagined it again. It was a black room— perhaps not a room at all— but all was black and formless around him. He would stand there in the darkness, speaking to the same man he saw every night. He never remembered what was said, or if the man was nice, all he knew was that they spoke and would come to some sort of agreement before walking off further into the shadows together. He would always feel a thrill of excitement and anxiety when they did so, but that's where it ended. Either his father would shift in the bed to put his boots on for another day of woodcutting, or his mother would giggle about something in her sleep or one time, he himself wet the bed. Whatever the reason, he never made it into the darkness with that man— whoever he was.
That morning, as mentioned earlier, his mother was ill, and he knew that meant he was on "mum duty" as his dad called it.
"Pa," he protested.
"Don't 'pa' me, lad. Your mum needs you. You wouldn't say no to a pretty lady who needs help, would you?"
He looked towards his mother. She wasn't much of a pretty lady at this point. Her face was swollen and snot ran freely down from her nose, but still, when she smiled ruefully, he smiled back.
"Okay…" he said, relenting.
His dad clapped him on the back. "That's my boy." His dad handed him a small coin purse filled with gold. "Two turnips, three potatoes, two leeks, and a chocolate bar for our little Hero." His dad ruffled his hair and he smiled up at him.
He ran out the door of their cabin, racing past the waters of Bower Lake and up the road leading to the markets.
"Two turnips, three potatoes, three leeks!" he repeated to himself all the while.
He rushed past the guards standing at the open gates to Bowerstone while screaming to himself the ingredients he needed to pick up. The guards looked at each other with contained laughs.
He rushed through the forest of legs, shoving this way, and slipping that way. People gasped, or gawked, or said: "Run yourself in an early grave, you will!" He drowned out all of it because he was on "mum duty" and he was the Hero she needed!
He rushed over the bridge overlooking the Bowerstone River and to the shops in the market. The food there never tasted great, but it was cheap enough for them to afford, and he liked the pretty lady running the stall. He tugged on her skirt when got there, she turned and smiled at him brightly. He handed her the gold pieces and the order, and she handed him her veggies with a pat on the head. Blushing, he tore off back across the bridge to where the general store was. He did what was asked and now it was time for chocolate, and oh boy, chocolate was tits to him.
He looked through the selection they had, not sure of which he should get. There was milk chocolate, cookies and crème, mint, marshmallow, and white which nobody liked.
He was transfixed, leaning heavily towards cookies and crème which was his favorite, but wanting to experiment. He had, after all, never had the marshmallow. He grabbed it and was already imagining how good it was, but when he was at the counter, his eye was caught by a colourful bouquet of flowers beside the clerk.
"Three gold, love," the woman said, knocking on the counter to get his attention. He stared at her, then back to the flowers, and then at her again, and by that point, the clerk was getting impatient. "Look, are you going to buy, or what?"
The little Hero ran back to the shelf, slammed the chocolate back to where it was, ran back to the clerk, threw the gold pieces and snatched the bouquet, and left before she got even angrier.
"Hold it, you stupid boy! The chocolate was three gold pieces not— oh whatever, they're fake anyway."
He didn't hear any of what she had said. He had what he needed and he was headed back home. His trip was cut short, however, when he passed through the gates to Bowerstone and heard a commotion coming from above him on the catwalks. He looked up just in time to see a shadow before he was crushed under the weight of another boy.
"Thanks for the save, mate!" the boy on top of him said, before scrambling off into the brush. "Don't tell him I'm here!" he called.
The boy didn't say anything at all. He was still face down in the dirt.
Before long, heavy bootsteps came alongside the boy and he was lifted by his collar into the air. He was met with the face of a young man with sun-kissed skin.
"Boy, you haven't seen a thieving rat run past you? Top hat, yellow teeth, calls himself 'Arfur'?"
He didn't know about all of that, but he pointed into the bushes where the boy had gone. As if by magic, the boy popped up behind the fern. "Prick! I told you not to tell him!" And sure enough, the pasty white boy had a top hat and yellow teeth.
Lightning quick, the guardsman bolted over to the boy and grabbed him by the scruff like he did to the boy, who was once again face-down in the dirt.
"Shove off!" Arfur protested, swinging and kicking fruitlessly in the air.
The guardsman shook Arfur like a rattle in his hand. He pointed a finger in the struggling kid's face. "It's filth like you that are ruining Bowerstone. You're coming with me."
"Get off! I'll see you dead one day, Giles! You too, kid! No one rats out Arfur!" Arfur said, glaring venomously at the boy.
"Don't listen to him. That was a brave thing you did. You're Jericho's and Delilah's lad, aren't you? I'll be sure to tell them about your good deed here. Now, let me turn this criminal in and I'll get you home."
"To tell you the truth, I've had enough of that boy Arfur," Giles said on their way back to the boy's cabin. "He'll be a real problem one day. Revolving door criminal that one. Ah well." The guardsman started whistling and singing a song under his breath about a lady who was pretty.
They were at the cabin not too long after that. "This is it then?" he asked. The boy nodded and the guardsman patted him on the head before turning.
"Why do you lie there so still, pretty lady? Morning has come and the sun is reigning."
The boy waved and stepped up to the door. It was ajar, which he thought was odd. He pushed the door open slowly and saw red. Red was everywhere. His mother was covered in red and so was his father— both halves of him which were separate and laying feet away from each other.
The door closed behind him and he turned to see a black-furred, lanky, monster with a flat face, piercing eyes, and rows of needle-like teeth. It snarled and stepped towards him. The boy backed up and crawled into bed with his reddened mother. He wanted so badly to crawl into her arms and have the monster dissolve as it did in his nightmares, but the monster did not disappear, and his mother's arms did not hold him as they did before.
He rushed to the window and slid it open as the heavy footsteps of the monster followed just inches behind him. He threw himself out of the window and raced after Giles. He tried to scream but nothing came out of his tightened throat. He was being strangled by his own fear.
He ran up to Giles who stopped singing and turned, a confused look on his face. His face lit up in shock when he saw the red, and then it hardened, and he turned back to the cabin, drawing the biggest blunderbuss the boy had ever seen.
A shriek of a roar echoed out from the cabin, and the door was launched off its hinges, hitting the ground yards away and exploding into a cloud of wooden splinters and metal hinges. The monster was in the doorway. Covered in dripping red and lumbering towards them, Giles grabbed the boy. "Stand back!" he hissed.
The monster bent forward on all four legs and galloped towards them, eyes wide with hunger. Giles swore and aimed his blunderbuss.
He shot, and the boy went deaf from the thunderous bang. He saw streaks of light explode like a firework in all directions ahead of them, but none hit the monster. Giles had missed. He hurriedly dropped more metal balls into the mouth of the gun, and more powder too, but the monster was upon them. Giles swung the butt of the gun to the monster and it cracked against the jaw of the beast, knocking out a handful of needle-like teeth onto the ground.
The monster swung and Giles caught it with the body of the blunderbuss, and there was a moment as they tried to out-muscle each other that the boy thought that were fighting for the gun.
Giles swung a leg up into the beast's knee, which while thin, was covered in a leather-thick hide, and the muscle and bone underneath that was hard as rock.
The monster twisted the gun in Giles's hands and wrenched it free of the man's grasp. It then jumped back, braced itself, and charged. Giles was caught in the chest by the force of it and was thrown in a cartwheel into the air before landing on a rock with a crunch.
The monster followed slowly, watching in morbid interest as the man, gasping for air, clawed into the grass to pull himself away. It stared for a moment longer before descending upon the man in a flurry of swipes. It sounded like knives being ground against a whetstone, and fruit being crushed. The man howled in pain and the monster howled back, relishing in the death cries of its prey.
But Giles would not die that day.
A thunderous clap shook the area, sending birds flying into the sky in fear. Red sprayed from the monster this time. It clutched its abdomen and turned to see the boy face-down in the dirt from the force of the blunderbuss. The muscles in the monster's lower back spasmed and twitched around the entry point of the metal balls, but even then, it didn't look like anything the monster couldn't recover from.
Luck was with them that day, however, as the monster hobbled away from them and into the woods.
Giles was reddened by his and the monster's blood. His eyes were wide with fear and surprise that he was alive. The little Hero boy helped him to his feet. Giles was still unsteady but could walk by himself.
The boy turned and ran back to the cabin as Giles called out for him, cursing his own slowness.
The guardsman followed into the cabin behind the boy and took off his hat when he saw the mess left of the boy's parents. A bouquet of crushed and dirtied flowers lay in the mother's cold hands.
The boy stared at the lifeless bodies of his parents, eyes clouded by tears. Throat choked with rage. He vowed never to rest until the beast had paid for the brutal death of his family.
But would this path lead him toward justice or vengeance?
And so the Little Hero left with Giles that day and was taken on by the guards of Bowerstone. Lord Lucien Fairfax, a bachelor noble who had recently inherited the dominion over the Bower region, granted wardship of the Hero to Giles. All accommodations were paid by the young lord, who, when asked, said that he felt that the boy reminded him of himself, having been through the 'darker sides of childhood'.
Anyone left curious as to what he meant would never get an answer; Lord Lucien Fairfax, for how generous and kind he was, carried some sort of shadow behind his eyes, one that anyone could see, but nobody could muster the courage to ask about. There were the occasional rumours about him and his family, of course— how madness lay just under the surface, like a bear in its lair at wintertime. Nobody wanted to wake it.
This little Hero boy became like a child to Lord Lucien. It was like he was drawn to the boy, always interested in whatever the boy was saying, whether it was something about toys, the weather, or some blabber that only a child could create; Lord Lucien was always engaged. This closeness drew Lucien and Giles closer together as well, and soon, Giles noticed that he was receiving preferential jobs. Always the easy shifts in the more affluent neighborhoods of Bowerstone Central. If it was cold or raining, he would patrol the closer-knit streets where rain crashed on the conjoined rooftops above him. If it was sunny and warm, he would patrol the fields where the flowers grew pink and yellow like candy.
Giles found it pleasant at first, but it grew wearing when the other guardsmen chastised him for it. It continued much in the same way for almost half a decade before the Hero had come to Giles in the early morning on one of his days off and asked him how to swing a sword like Giles did.
Things changed after that. Giles no longer felt as a foster father to the Hero. Instead, he felt like a horse master, who had only just begun to train his new steed before it launched off and Giles could only hang onto the reigns as it dragged him along. The boy was a master at anything that he was interested in; crossbows, swords, guns, maces, axes, and a bar stool at one point. If he got his hands on it, he was a master at fighting with it.
He soon started asking to join the guardsmen. It was a request that was always shot down immediately by Lord Lucien. Years passed, and at least twice a week, the Hero would pester Lord Lucien about joining. The lord, vexed by his persistence, finally compromised the day the boy turned twenty.
The guard would be denied to him still, however, if there was need for it, they would offer him a discretionary bounty for any criminals that had evaded law enforcement to be brought in.
He had at least twenty renegades retrieved within the first week.
It was after his latest recapture of Arfur that the Hero and the other guards went out to the Cow and Corset for some well-deserved ale. They talked, ate, and sang, and laughed. And when they finished, the Hero dragged himself up the stairs and into a bed for the night.
His dream came to him again, as it did every night. But that night, it didn't end immediately as it had done every time before.
"It is in our blood. It is our weight and our burden to carry it through the ages," the skeletal man said to him in that dark room. "It is a blessing and a curse and will lead you to glory and death, always. That is the way of our blood."
"I understand," the Hero said. "And I am ready."
The skeleton nodded and the two of them turned and stepped deeper into the shadows. They walked like this for hours, never stopping, never speaking. Then the Hero saw something in the distance. It looked like a star. It glittered and glowed until they got closer, and then he realized that there were two, they had separated as they got closer, the farther distance combining their lustre into one.
"It is time," said a woman's voice from where the two stars stared down at them. "Time for you to realize your potential, and for you to awaken as the Hero you were born to be."
The words send energy bristling through his veins like electric fire. Something had come alive inside of him. It was like an animal, hungry for glory. Hungry for rivals to bleed.
"At the southmost edge of eastern Albion lies a small town of Southcliff. A monster casts a shadow over the people there. Go there and claim your destiny."
The hero nodded and turned. He was stopped short when the woman spoke again.
"And remember this: a heart of gold is valuable to more than who you love. Be cautious with who you share it with."
And so he set off, giving very little in the way of warning or goodbyes. The sun rose and the rooster crowed. The Hero kicked it into the sky and stretched his arms out. He smiled upwards, past the trees. He took a big breath of air and smiled.
Adventure. At last.
He set off with no idea of what he would fight along the way, who he would meet, where Sutcliff was, or how he would get there. The roads were calling to him, and he was answering.
Unfortunately, the Hero, having forgotten that the town's name was "Southcliff" and not "Sutcliff", decided to travel north, past Dew Springs and up, all the way into the twisting forests of Woodseed where he was assaulted by Red Caps and a chicken who had somehow mastered sword-to-sword combat.
He had limped into a hollow with gnarled roots and a ravine when he collapsed face-first into the dirt.
"Excuse me, sir," a fussy woman's voice called. "Sir, you are crushing my pansy garden."
He looked up and saw a stone wall buried into the side of a grass knoll. The large face of a wisened woman carved from the stone jutted from it and stared down at him, a sour, imperious look on her face. "Are you deaf?" She asked.
He pulled up from the ground and patted the mud off of himself.
"Oh, it'll take weeks to get it back to the way it was. And those Red Caps don't make for very good gardeners, I'll have you know."
The Hero apologized and asked who and what she was.
"I'm a Demon Door, dear. You have heard of us of course… haven't you? Oh, dear, you haven't, have you?"
He shook his head.
"We are beings bound to stone. We hide treasures and passages."
The Hero asked what treasure she was hiding. She glowered.
"My treasure was this garden." Her face twisted with misery. "Oh, how so few people appreciate the subtle art of gardening."
The Hero didn't know what to say to that, so he performed a quick cossack for her.
"Why would you do that? Why would you dance on my crushed garden?"
He looked down, shifted to the side, outside the flattened pansies, and did another cossack. He even ended it with a shaking flourish of the hands and beamed at the Demon Door.
She merely blinked at him. "My dear, there are no words to describe the loathing I feel for you at this very moment."
He shrugged and turned to leave but he stopped.
He had just realized that this Demon Door may very well be the key to helping him find Sutcliff. He turned back to her and told her everything. He even included the chicken with the sword. She seemed unimpressed.
"Southcliff. It's Southcliff, dear, and no. You ruining my treasure does not mean that I suddenly have an interest in opening the way for you."
It seemed as if the Hero had upset this Demon Door. He wracked his brains trying to find a solution for this situation. He came up with one and ran to her. Her eyes widened as he approached and she winced, preparing herself for a blow.
She peeked open an eye and saw him just below her. He had decided to tickle her.
She glared venomously down at him.
"How dare you lay your hands on me, you unwashed chav! Leave me before I call the Red— the Red Ca-ah-ah-ah!"
Her eyes widened again as his fingers tickled at the opening of the door.
"Oh. Oh, dear! Oh my goodness!"
She let out a shaking breath and he continued. He thought he had her now. With how she quivered like that, she must have been on the verge of laughing.
She closed her eyes and let out a prolonged moan. "Don't stop!" she commanded. "Don't you dare stop!"
He continued, giggling to himself at her sounds. She was really enjoying this. He was so happy that she wasn't upset anymore. Who knew Demon Doors could be so ticklish?
He continued tickling her, and she continued laughing in that weird way she did, with the moaning, cussing, and tears streaming down her face.
She let out one prolonged moan and a cracking sound split through the hollow. The door popped open and slid until they were hidden under the knoll. The doorway was bright and he had to cover his eyes as he entered. When he opened his eyes again, he was somewhere much different than just moments before. He had arrived at a cliffside village overlooking the ocean. It was surrounded by forests and was built into the side of a mountain. At the very top, on an outcropping of the rock overlooking the waves, was a castle.
The Hero yelped in surprise as the door slammed shut behind him with a force that shook the ground. He turned and saw the wisened woman. The sour look on her face was gone and was replaced with a dreamy look on her face.
"My dear, you may visit me anytime."
She smiled, closed her eyes, and her head flattened back against the stone wall.
And so, with having finally arrived in Sutcliff he raised his sword to the sky and charged into the streets in search of the monster.
He was arrested shortly thereafter and had his sword confiscated.
After he left jail a week later, having served time for a count of brandishing a deadly weapon and one count of being a public nuisance, he visited the market.
He found a beautiful young woman there named Roxanne. She had dark eyes, pale skin, and crow-colored hair. She was dressed in a pretty white and red uniform.
He found out that she was the most recently hired handmaiden for Duke Lugaru, who reigned over the region. She was at the marketplace for medicine and ingredients that may help her ailing master. Having been only halfway through his fifties, he was far too young to be languishing as he was.
"I just don't know what to do anymore," she said, sounding drained. "Nothing seems to make him feel better, and with my daily duties and the curfew, I barely have time to sit down!"
He asked her about the curfew.
"There's a curfew in place. Someone disappears once every few nights, and they're never seen again. Balverines, sir! It's true. The boys down the street laugh at me for wearing my charm but I swear it. I saw them with my own two eyes!"
The charm?
She pulled a necklace from her blouse and showed him. It was a thin, golden chain with a silver gemstone set at the center. "My pa gave me this. He was a woodsman who chopped trees down in Underwood. It's the only reason they never touched him."
"Well, love, I don't know about those boys, but I think I'd look better with that pretty necklace."
The Hero and Roxanne turned and saw a muscular, dirty woman cracking her knuckles at them.
"So hand it over before I break your pretty face."
Roxanne quickly stuffed the gemstone back under her shirt.
The Hero stepped in front- between the two of them. He turned to look at the pretty woman and gave her a wink. He turned back to the burly woman and was sent spiraling to the ground. The woman punched like a donkey kicked, and the Hero was pretty sure his nose was broken in at least two places.
Roxanne turned and ran for the merchant stalls as the crowd cleared around them. The thief pursued. Roxanne jumped behind the table full of freshly caught fish.
The Hero had just pulled himself from the dirt and charged towards the thief. He jumped through the air and spiked her side with his legs. She was a lot more enduring than he had hoped. She only stumbled to her knees, turning and roaring at him. He grabbed a fat fish by its tail and swung it in his hand like a morning star. The woman glared at him and reached for her own fish. She lugged up a swordfish and cackled. The Hero looked down at his fish, threw it towards her, and ran.
Roxanne snuck from behind the stall into the one neighboring it. It was a kettle and pot shop. She grabbed a cast iron pan and jumped the table to chase after the big woman.
The thief heard her approaching and turned. She brandished the swordfish to Roxanne, and then the Hero. She turned between the two of them, growling and licking at her teeth.
Roxanne and the Hero looked at each other, and a silent understanding passed between them. They both nodded in agreement at each other and charged the woman at the same time. The thief was caught off guard and pointed the swordfish to Roxanne with the pan, and was caught around the neck by the Hero. He held her in a chokehold as Roxanne came with her pan raised above her head.
She swung.
She hit the Hero. Roxanne's eyes were closed when she swung. The Hero slumped to the ground cold.
The thief laughed evilly and then also slumped to the ground. As it turned out, she had a blood clot forming in her neck for a few months now, and the Hero's chokehold caused a full-blown stroke.
The Hero later stirred and woke to the feeling of soft hands on his face. He opened his eyes and saw two Roxannes comforting him.
"That was very brave of you. Thank you very much." She placed a kiss on his cheek and he laughed stupidly to himself as she pulled herself from him and walked back to the castle.
"Master Lugaru?" Roxanne called when she entered the parlor. She was surprised to not find the Duke sitting by the fire. She rushed through the halls, looking for her master. She found the door to his room open and stepped in. She whisked past the ugly white statuette of a Balverine set upon the Duke's study and entered the washroom. She saw him standing, stark naked, trying to lift his leg past the lip of the tub.
"Master Lugaru!" she cried, running to him and helping the man into the tub. "I am so sorry I am late, sir."
The Duke didn't say anything. He only grumbled as he lowered himself weakly into the water.
She had just grabbed the sponge and ran it over the bullet scars on his back when he snapped at her and grabbed her arm. She cried out in terror as he snarled, and for a moment, she genuinely believe he was about to bite into her neck and tear it open.
He stopped their noses almost touching. His lips were pulled back and she saw his teeth. They were pointed, unlike any person she had ever seen.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
She didn't have a chance to answer before he hissed and let go of her. He looked down to the hand that had held her. He was breathing heavily and shaking his hand as if it had been burned.
In her month-long tenure serving the Duke, he had never acted like this. He was quite civil when she started, but in the days following, he became more and more reclusive. And then the illness set in, and when he wasn't laid up in bed, stiff like a corpse, he was usually quick to anger.
"Just go," he hissed. "Get Ethan."
She nodded and rushed out of the room. She was stopped short and the entrance to the master bedroom as the young Laird had just entered.
"He wishes to see you, sir."
Ethan nodded solemnly. "Leave us."
Roxanne bowed. "Yes, of course, sir."
But she didn't. She stepped through the threshold of the door, watching from the corner of her eye as the young Laird closed the door to the washing room door. She then took a step backward and closed the door loud enough to let the Duke and his apprentice think that she had gone. She then tiptoed over to the door and placed her ear against it.
"How are you feeling, master?" she heard him ask.
"How does it look?" the Duke growled.
Ethan fell quiet, and Roxanne could all but see the grimace on his face.
"Do you not believe that the statue is caus—"
"The statue isn't what's causing me my illness, boy! I've told you this several times! The legend says nothing of illness. It isn't the damn statue, so stop mentioning it. It is an artifact of awakening."
"It is hard, my lord, to stay in the loop if you do not keep me informed about everything that's happening."
A moment passed.
"You know what I am asking for, my lord. You have promised it to me, time and again, but have not delivered. Tonight is the full moon, my lord, the time is now!"
"I will not give you the bite until I am recovered! Even as a White Balverine, you will be uncontrollable, and if I'm not strong enough to contain you, you may break away from the castle and expose this operation before the order comes to fruition! Do not ask me again!"
The ferocity at which the Duke growled shook Ethan silent. Even Roxanne stiffened behind the door.
"How is Lilith doing?"
"She isn't crying, I'll give her that. Still won't talk to anyone but her stuffed animals."
"Good… good… be sure to place the statue in her room again. She must have as much exposure to it as possible if she is to become an Elder Balverine like I am."
"Of course, my lord," Ethan said, sounding as if he was speaking through gritted teeth.
"And one last thing, Ethan? Bring me Roxanne. Her service has been subpar and I'm hungry for blood."
"Yes, sir. I will fetch her now."
Roxanne leaped back from the door. She held her breath and took three jumping steps, crouching with each to muffle the sound they made, and dove under the bed. Her ankles had just slipped out of sight when the door to the washing room opened, and Laird Ethan stepped through, unaware of the woman hiding just feet away.
He slammed the door behind him and Roxanne's ears were left ringing. She heard Duke Lugaru rise from the water, and a wet slap as his foot hit the tile. It was followed by another step, just as sluggish and heavy as the first, and each after sent a chill down Roxanne's spine. The anticipation of seeing her master again, after everything she had heard, terrified her. She covered her mouth as he closed in on the door. She tried to stifle her hyperventilation. She saw, though it wasn't to great comfort, that the foot that swung past the threshold of the washing room was human. It was soaked and the skin was pale and breaking, but it was human.
She held her breath as it grew closer to her, and stopped in front of her. Lugaru shifted and his foot slipped upwards.
He was a Balverine. She still couldn't believe it. Had it been recently that he was transformed? No, it couldn't have been, people have gone missing in Southcliff for years, but still, why was he ailing?
A part of the bed lowered as Lugaru adjusted, she moved her head to see if his form would come into contact with her through the mattress.
Clunk.
She froze, heart lurching into her throat. Her pendant had just fallen out from her blouse and onto the hardwood floor. She stayed frozen, afraid that Lugaru heard it, but he didn't move again.
She picked up the glistening silver and it all made sense. The charm was harming him. Just being near him was enough for him to feel malaise. And when her hand touched him…
But this was a line of thought for another time— another place.
Roxanne sat there in silence until she heard the quiet snoring of her master. He was bed bound for weeks before. There was no telling how long he would be there for this time.
She sucked in a breath and sidled her way out from under the bed. She sat up slowly and peered over the bed. The duke was still wet and naked, but he was asleep, and deeply so, of the trail of drool dribbling down his cheek was anything to go off of.
She pulled herself up and grabbed hold of the doorknob. She gave one last look back at the sleeping man and slid the door open. She clicked it closed behind her and stepped down the hall.
She was halfway down the hall when she heard Laird Ethan behind her, coming up from the other side of the hall.
"Roxanne," he called. She didn't know what he wanted, but she didn't respond. She only stepped faster.
"Roxanne," he called again, sounding on the edge of exploding.
She stepped faster, almost running now, and when she turned the corner, she kicked off her heels and ran.
"Roxanne!" Ethan's voice came from behind her. He chased.
He was not fast enough.
The Hero wasn't quite sure what to think when he awoke to Roxanne all but breaking down the door to his room. "It's the Duke!" she cried as she shook him. "It's my master! It's been him the whole time!"
The Hero stared up at her and asked what she meant. She groaned, stamping her foot.
"The Balverine! The missing people! He was behind all of it! Oh, how stupid I've been! He's a Balverine! And he's been messing with some statue and… and… well I don't know what he's planning but it can't be good! And now he's after me!"
She bawled into her hands. The Hero stood beside her and patted her on the back. He pulled on her shoulder and led her out of the tavern. He wanted to show her something.
There was a pond just outside of town. There were trees sunken into the bog, and in its own way, it was rather beautiful. The sight of it seemed to calm Roxanne. Her sniffles slowed and she stared in awe.
The full moon's light reflected off of her reddened, wet cheeks. Even swollen, she was gorgeous.
She must have felt his stare because she turned and gave a small smile to him.
It felt like the Hero's stomach was stomped on. She was too beautiful.
He smiled back, and slowly, very slowly, he approached her. His eyes closed and he puckered his lips and…
"We just met today, you nutter!"
He opened his eyes and saw a twisted, disturbed look on her face.
He stayed there, unsure of what to do next.
She stared for a moment longer, rolled her eyes, and said: "Oh, what the hell."
She grabbed him and they kissed.
At that moment, fireflies illuminated above the pond, frogs chirped their chorus, and a Hobbe a half mile away had just gutted a wandering bard and stolen his lute. The Hobbe's feeble plunking of the stringed instrument was almost beautiful.
They pulled apart and she smiled, stronger than before.
"You told me you're a Hero," she started. "That means you can defeat the Duke of Southcliff. Take this."
She pressed her amulet into his hand.
"Tie it around your sword, and you will have a chance to defeat this monster before he can kill again."
He took it but held onto her hand. She didn't pull away. She just stared back at him, a look of strength in her eyes.
Tonight was beautiful.
It was almost perfect. Unfortunately, the black Balverine that had haunted the Hero's nightmares since it slaughtered his parents came bounding from the brush towards them. It grabbed a screaming Roxanne by the hair and retreated into the brush.
Other than that? Perfect.
The Hero stood and stared at the waters with the glowing fireflies and the sound of the Hobbe attempting to serenade the dead bard. He took a deep breath of air and smiled.
And so, as the full moon shone down on Southcliff, the Hero followed the screams and cries of his lover to the castle overlooking the waters.
He kicked the door open and brandished his blood-stained lute he pried from an angry Hobbe, and charged into the castle. He struck down the Duke's knights with simple flourishes of his weapon— or at least he thought he did, as it turns out, they were just suits of armour.
He entered the throne room and found the Elder Balverine there with Roxanne and another man. The black fur of the beast bristled as he turn and saw the Hero there.
He stood straight, his hunch, despite being taller than both the Hero and Roxanne, hid much of his height. Standing now, he was a giant among them and the Hero gulped, but raised his lute anyway.
There was a moment of silence before the Elder Balverine dropped onto all fours and roared so loudly, that the stained glass windows above the throne shattered, spraying glass shards and dust in a powdery rainbow above them.
Duke Lugaru lunged and the Hero rolled out of the way almost fast enough. The beast caught his ankle with its claw and wrenched the Hero through the air to the other side of the room where the broken glass lay.
The Hero shrieked as pieces were embedded into his rib cage. The Elder Balverine approached, slower this time, seemingly enjoying the sight of his wounded prey.
But he wasn't prey. He was a Hero.
The Hero grabbed a handful of the shoal of the glass and swung. The Balverine howled in pain and rage as the dust and pieces of debris stuck to his eyes. He clawed at them, almost tearing his eyes out in the process.
Meanwhile, the Hero placed the silver charm inside the hole of the lute and swung. The wooden instrument glittered silver, and when it impacted the beast, it made a deafening crack that would've destroyed any other wooden weapon.
Fur fell in clumps where the lute hit, and the leathery hard skin cracked and bled.
The Hero brought his weapon up once again, aiming a strike for the monster's head, but what vision the Balverine still had was enough to dodge with. The Balverine followed with a swipe upwards that cut three rivers of open skin and blood along the Hero's chest.
He screamed and clutched to it. He tried to block the next hit, but the sheer force from the Balverine sent him flying backward.
It was upon him again, and this time, had the wherewithal to give the Hero a chance to come up with another idea like before.
He bore down on the Hero, swinging his claws, making those same whipping sounds the Hero had heard used on Giles before. The Hero cried out as his forearms, shoulders, and anything he used to guard himself were torn into ribbons. The lute lay unused just behind him, but he knew the Elder Balverine would not let him get to it.
"No!" Roxanne shrieked from the other side of the room. The Laird held her by the shoulders, but she swung a foot upwards and back into the man's nethers. He croaked and fell as Roxanne sprinted across the hall.
She launched herself onto the beast's back. She pulled his fur, scratched at him, bit him, anything she could do, she did.
More out of annoyance than anything else, sprung backward and tried to shake her off. She held on, legs locking around its midsection and covering its eyes.
The Hero groaned and sat upwards. He turned and crawled to the lute on the floor. Roxanne was starting to slip by the time he got to it.
The beast stopped struggling. He stood up straight and jumped into the air, landing on his back with Roxanne under him. There was a shaking thump as he crushed her under his weight. When he pulled himself from her, she lay there gasping for breath, tears of pain welling up in her eyes.
Duke Lugaru leaned down and opened his maw. He was going to tear her apart. There was no venom dripping from his needle-shaped teeth. His bite would not infect her. It would kill her.
Or it would have if the Hero had not run up. The Balverine turned and roared. The Hero swung a punch into the monster's mouth and the monster froze.
The Hero pulled his hand free and watched as the beast clutched at its throat. It was choking. He fell backward onto the floor, sputtering and seizing. Its spindly body was reforming and shrinking back into the shape of a middle-aged man.
Duke Lugaru, human once again, leaned forward and retched. Out came the silver charm along with blood and bits of food.
The Hero brought his lute to where the man lay and raised it.
The Duke raised his hands and said: "Wait, Hero!"
The Hero paused, still ready to strike.
"You saved me! You saved me, my boy! You saved me from that blasted curse! Thank you! Thank you, Hero!"
The Hero cocked his head in confusion. He looked at Roxanne. She shrugged but looked wary.
"I was bitten, decades ago. I kept falling victim to the monster inside me— forced to watch every kill it carried out. My boy, I am so sorry for your parents. I could do nothing but scream inside my own head as it killed them."
He threw himself at the Hero's feet, sobbing and coughing, but the Hero couldn't see if tears were falling.
"Hero, please forgive me!"
The Hero's expression softened, but he did not lower his weapon.
"You've saved me from the beast within me. Ethan," he said. "I am sorry to have dragged you into this. I am sorry the curse was leading us both down a path of destruction!"
The Duke looked behind him to the man with the reddened face and hand between his legs. Through the pain, the Hero saw a look of disbelief on his face.
"You've hunted the people of Sutcliff for decades," the Hero reminded him.
"Southcliff," the Laird protested.
The two men held a gaze before the Duke prostrated himself again.
"Please!" he cried. "Spare me my life! I will leave Southcliff— Sutcliff, whatever you wish to call it, and I'll never return! I will start a new life, far from here!"
The Hero let out a sigh, then dropped the lute. The Duke looked up to see the Hero's open hand. He smiled and took it. The Hero brought him back to his feet and he bowed.
"Thank you, Hero. I apologize for what I have done to you and Roxanne." He turned. "Laird Ethan Kreel, I grant you control of this castle and this region. This region of… Sutcliff."
True to his word, the Duke departed that very day, leaving Ethan Kreel lordship over the town, and not long after did he and Roxanne leave as well, traveling back to the Bower region where he introduced Roxanne to Giles and Lord Lucien. Giles scolded him for disappearing as he did but hugged him nonetheless. Lord Lucien was fascinated with the Hero's stories of his adventure.
They were the closest thing to a family that the Hero had, at least until he asked Roxanne to marry him only weeks later. Lord Lucien was all too happy to officiate their marriage in the gardens of his castle. And Giles, while stoic and hard-faced as usual while serving as Best Man, could not help but weep for his friend as they gave their vows.
The Hero retired shortly after their wedding, taking up on his late father-in-law's ways of living. They built themselves a nice two-story house buried in the woods only a stone's throw from Brightwood. It was beautiful. The building was warm in the winter, and in the spring, daffodils would bloom in their fields. They built a chicken coop, a well, a barn, and they even had lanterns installed on the pathways. They built a bridge as well, for crossing the river, and they built a bench near the water where they sat. It was a happy, but tired celebration when they had finished. Though they had only finished their home, nine months later, little Rose was born. She looked just like her mother. She was just as intelligent and self-sufficient too. Giles fell in love with her the moment he saw her. Lord Lucien never met her though. He had found a woman named Helena who had stolen his heart. And, four years later, Lucien's wife was carrying little Amelia. It was a surprise when they found out that Roxanne was carrying another as well.
Little Sparrow and Amelia were born on the same day as each other, though they never met.
Life was good for a time. Sparrow was only two years old when they received a knock on the door at midnight.
The Hero stirred at the persistent knocking. Roxanne woke and immediately was set on edge.
Who could be calling so late in the night? Out in these woods?
The Hero kissed her and asked her to calm herself. He stepped downstairs and opened the door.
The last thing he saw what the gaping maw of the Elder Balverine. Roxanne came rushing down the stairs to see her husband dead on the floor, his head torn from his body. She shrieked and scrambled back upstairs, waking the children.
"I'm going to create a diversion," she told Rose. "You…" she choked on a sob. "You take little Sparrow and you run. You run all the way to Bowerstone, do you understand?"
Rose, whose eyes were brimming with tears and terror nodded and Roxanne kissed her on the forehead. She helped her children out the window and turned to face the Balverine that had burst through the door.
Rose ran, as she had promised, past the gateway to their home, and disappeared into the night.
Giles never recovered from what he found, just days later on his visit with his wife Jennifer. There were only pieces of people remaining. Blood painted the walls of the house. The kids were gone, likely eaten by whatever had done this.
Little Rose and little Sparrow were gone. Grief clung to him as they returned to Bowerstone to inform Lord Lucien of what had happened. Shortly after, Giles left the guard. He and his wife left Bowerstone as well.
Rose didn't know Bowerstone very well. The streets zigzagged and the tall buildings made her dizzy. Still, she tried to make a life for them. Sometimes travelers let them stay in their caravans when nights grew too cold, but not everybody was as charitable. Most of the time, people would pretend to not even see the children. If only she could find Giles. She was sure he would take her in, but the guards, when bothered enough to acknowledge her questions, would give her flat answers as to where he went. They were truthful at least: they didn't know.
It was clear to her that nobody was coming to save them. And, with some work, and many nights of frustration and tears, Rose managed to build a small shanty in the Old Quarter. The view was beautiful. She would stare out at Castle Fairfax long into the night after Sparrow had fallen asleep to stories of the warrior girl.
Rose sighed.
If only they could live there…