**Beauty and the Bad Beast**
In a forgotten village nestled between whispering forests and jagged cliffs, lived Elara, a young woman whose spirit shone brighter than the sun glinting off the morning dew. Her beauty wasn't just in her auburn curls or hazel eyes, but in her courage and kindness, which drew people like moths to a flame. The village loved her, but Elara yearned for something beyond the predictable rhythm of their days.
Deep in the forest, where shadows clung like damp moss, stood a crumbling castle, home to a creature known only as the Bad Beast. Once a proud prince named Torin, he was cursed by a scorned sorceress for his arrogance, transformed into a hulking figure with jagged horns, claws like daggers, and eyes that burned with regret. The curse twisted not just his body but his heart, leaving him bitter, feared, and alone, his only companions the wolves that howled at his gates.
One stormy evening, Elara's younger brother, Finn, wandered too far into the forest, chasing a fox. When he didn't return, Elara braved the tempest, her cloak whipping in the wind. She found Finn trembling at the castle's gates, cornered by wolves. Without hesitation, she stepped between them, her voice steady as she sang an old lullaby her mother taught her. The wolves, entranced, slunk back into the shadows.
But the Bad Beast emerged, his growl shaking the earth. "Who dares trespass?" he roared, towering over Elara. Finn clung to her, terrified, but Elara stood tall. "I'm here for my brother," she said, meeting the beast's fiery gaze. "Let him go, and I'll stay in his place."
Torin, surprised by her defiance, agreed. Finn ran home, tears streaming, promising to return with help. Elara stepped into the castle, her heart pounding but her resolve unbroken. The Beast expected her to cower, but Elara explored the castle with curiosity, touching faded tapestries and humming softly. Her presence was like sunlight piercing storm clouds, and it unnerved him.
Days turned to weeks. Torin, gruff and distant, watched Elara tend to his overgrown gardens, mend broken furniture, and even laugh at his attempts to scare her. "You're not as bad as you think," she said one evening, catching him staring as she read by the fire. He snarled, retreating, but her words lingered.
Elara learned of the curse from an enchanted mirror that flickered with the sorceress's cruel laughter. To break it, Torin needed to love and be loved in return, but he believed it impossible. "Who could love a monster?" he muttered, his voice raw. Elara didn't answer, but she began leaving small gifts—a woven bracelet, a sprig of lavender—each one chipping at his walls.
One night, villagers, led by Finn and armed with torches, stormed the castle, believing Elara was in danger. Torin roared, ready to fight, but Elara stepped between them. "He's not what you think!" she shouted. "He's kind, even if he doesn't know it." Her words stunned Torin, and when a villager's arrow grazed him, Elara shielded him, taking a shallow wound.
In that moment, Torin's heart cracked open. He loved her—fiercely, impossibly. As Elara bandaged her arm, smiling through the pain, she whispered, "I see you, Torin. Not the beast, but you." The castle trembled, light bursting from its cracks. The curse shattered, and Torin stood human again, his eyes no longer burning but soft with gratitude.
The village welcomed them, though some whispered about the "Bad Beast" still. Elara and Torin didn't care. Together, they rebuilt the castle, not as a prison but a home, where love grew wilder than the forest itself.
And the wolves? They still howled, but now it sounded like a song.