The bells were still ringing when the dawn came, thin and gray, smeared like soot across the horizon. Smoke rose from the scorched barns on the western edge of the village, winding upward like dark prayers. Liora stood in the muddy square, her hands streaked with ash and blood that wasn't her own. Around her, the villagers murmured, their voices fraying between fear and fury.
The Beast had come in the night. Not as a shadow in the marshes or a whisper behind closed doors—but as claw and fang and fire. Three homes had burned before the alarm bell was even struck. Two men were dead. And somewhere in the chaos, it had been seen: not fully woman, not fully beast, but something in between, slipping through the flames like a living nightmare.
Liora's head pounded. She could still see the creature's eyes in the darkness: wild, human, desperate.
"She went for the grain stores," Corren muttered beside her. He'd stripped his usual coat and now wore the rough leathers of a hunter, bow slung over his shoulder, soot smudging his jaw. "Not random. Strategic."
Liora nodded slowly. "She's starving. Or she's gathering for something."
Corren's sharp gaze flicked toward her. "You keep calling it 'she.'"
"She is," Liora said before she could stop herself. "I saw her eyes."
The hunter said nothing, but the way his jaw clenched told her he'd heard this kind of talk before—likely from fools who'd let their pity get them killed.
The village elder, old Branek, emerged from the crowd then. He leaned heavily on his carved staff, its top carved into the shape of a serpent swallowing its tail. His white hair clung damply to his head, his gaze hard. "We've cowered too long," he rasped. "Last night was a warning. Next time, she'll bring the marsh with her."
A low murmur rippled through the villagers. Someone spat into the mud. Someone else crossed themselves.
"She's no woman anymore," a young farmer shouted. "She's a devil. And devils burn."
Liora's stomach twisted. She opened her mouth, but Corren's hand brushed her arm—light, a warning. Not yet.
Branek lifted his staff and struck it into the ground with a dull thock. "By sundown, we will have hunters at every path. No one crosses the marsh. No one wanders alone. We will send word to Wynthorpe for soldiers—real soldiers. This ends now."
A ragged cheer followed, born more of fear than courage. Liora felt the words scraping against her skin like dry bark. Soldiers. They would bring pikes, chains, fire. They wouldn't see the pleading in those golden, flickering eyes. They'd only see a monster to slay.
As the crowd dispersed to their duties, Corren stayed behind, watching her. "You're thinking of following her trail."
"I'm thinking," Liora said carefully, "that whatever she's planning… soldiers won't understand it. And if they go in blind, more will die."
"You think you understand her?" His voice was low, measured. "You saw her kill."
Liora met his eyes. "And I saw her hesitate."
For a heartbeat, something unreadable flickered across his face. Then he exhaled through his nose. "If you go, you're not going alone."
Maren — The Marsh
Far beyond the village, Maren crouched beneath the hanging boughs of the black willows. Her body trembled, caught in the sickening rhythm between woman and beast. The claws were receding, the fangs dulling back into human teeth, but her skin burned as if scraped raw from within.
Last night's raid had bought her time. Grain, dried meat, a few precious tools—all stashed in the hollow by the old stone arch. But it had cost her more than she'd expected. She'd seen the healer's daughter in the flames. Seen the way she'd looked at her—not with terror, but recognition.
That was dangerous. More dangerous than any hunter.
Maren dipped her hand into the marsh water, watching her reflection ripple and break. A woman's face stared back for now, pale and hollow-eyed. But beneath the surface, she saw the shape of the Beast waiting—horns like twisted roots, eyes burning like autumn fire.
"You're slipping," she whispered to herself.
A sound broke through the fog—the faint creak of wood on water. She turned sharply, nostrils flaring. A ferry boat, far off but moving. Someone was coming into the marsh.
Liora — The Hall
By midday, the village hall had become a war room. Branek sat at the head of the long table, with hunters, blacksmiths, and healers crowded around. Corren leaned over a crude map of the marsh, his fingers tracing lines where they'd spotted tracks.
"She struck here," he said, tapping a charcoal mark. "Near the west edge. The ground was too wet for horses, so she came on foot. Likely doubled back along the reeds to throw us off."
"She's clever," one of the hunters muttered. "Too clever."
"She was human," Liora said quietly. The room went still. Dozens of eyes turned to her. "She remembers things. Paths, traps. She's fighting like someone who knows how we think."
Branek's gaze hardened. "You speak as though you know her."
"I don't," Liora said quickly. "But I saw her. She's not… she's not mindless. If we treat her like a dumb beast, we'll lose more lives."
A scoff came from the blacksmith. "And what do you propose, healer's girl? We talk to her over tea?"
Liora clenched her fists beneath the table. "I propose we don't underestimate her."
Corren spoke up then, his voice cutting through the growing noise. "She's right. The Beast set the fires to draw us out. This isn't wild rage—it's strategy. She wants us scared. Divided."
Branek drummed his fingers on the table. "Then we give her what she wants. Draw her in. Set a trap. Tonight."
A murmur of agreement spread. Liora's heart sank. She could already see it unfolding—nets, pikes, men screaming in the dark. A trap sprung in ignorance.
After the meeting, as the hunters scattered to make preparations, Corren found her again. "If you're going into the marsh," he said softly, "it has to be before nightfall. After that, there'll be no room for talking."
Liora swallowed hard. "Then we don't have much time."
Nightfall Looms
The hours bled away quickly. Liora packed what little she could carry: herbs, bandages, her father's lantern. Corren was waiting by the western path, two horses saddled. He didn't say where they were going—he didn't need to. The marsh had already begun to thicken with mist.
As they rode toward the edge, she glanced back at the village. Smoke still curled from the blackened ruins, the bell silent now but heavy in the air. She wondered how many of those faces she'd grown up with would still look at her the same way if they knew what she planned.
They reached the outer ring of reeds just as the sun began to sink, staining the sky red. Corren dismounted, crouching to study the ground. "Tracks," he murmured. "Fresh. She doubled back like I thought."
"Then she knows we're coming," Liora said.
He glanced at her with something like grim respect. "Good. Saves us the trouble of finding her."
They pushed into the marsh, lantern light glimmering faintly through the fog. Every step was heavy, the ground sucking at their boots. Somewhere far ahead, a heron cried—a long, mournful sound that set her teeth on edge.
Liora's thoughts raced. What will I say to her? What if she doesn't listen? What if Corren is right, and I'm chasing a ghost in human skin?
And yet… beneath all that, something deeper stirred. A strange pull, like the tide tugging at a buried anchor.
Maren — The Encounter
Maren watched them from the shadows beneath the arching roots of an old willow. The hunter's posture was wary, deliberate. The woman's was hesitant—but not fearful. That was worse.
She could smell them: leather, steel, and the faint sharpness of herbs. The healer's daughter. She remembered her face through the flames. The way she hadn't screamed.
Maren's claws prickled beneath her skin. The Beast stirred, restless. Run or fight.
But Maren did neither. She waited.
As Liora and Corren neared the stone arch, a low growl rose from the darkness—animal, yet threaded with something almost human. Corren's hand went to his bow. Liora raised her lantern.
The light fell across Maren's face. Half-shadowed. Half-beast.
For a heartbeat, all three of them stood frozen in the fog.
Then, everything happened at once.