The growl trembled through the fog like a thread pulled tight. Liora held the lantern higher, its warm light catching on the edges of slick stones and dripping roots. The creature crouched beneath the arch of an ancient willow, its body half in shadow, half revealed.
Maren.
Even cloaked in the shifting outline of the Beast, there was no mistaking the human eyes burning behind the wildness. Golden, feral, but aware. Watching.
Corren drew an arrow, slowly, the bowstring whispering taut. "Step back," he breathed.
Liora didn't. Her boots were already sunk into the damp moss; there was nowhere to step that wasn't closer. "Corren," she said, her voice a whisper in the fog, "wait."
The Beast shifted, claws curling into the mud. Its nostrils flared, catching scents on the damp night air. Liora's heart thudded. She could feel it—not just fear, but a strange, electric awareness. It wasn't like staring down a wild animal. It was like facing another will, sharp and wounded.
"I know you can understand me," Liora said. Her voice wavered, but only slightly. "You don't have to run."
A sound rose from the creature's throat—not quite a snarl, not quite a laugh. A twisted, choking thing that made the lantern flame shudder. Then it spoke. The words were broken, halting, as if dragged over stone:
"Why… follow?"
Liora sucked in a breath. She speaks. Not fluently, but enough to slice through the silence like a knife.
Corren's stance stiffened. He hadn't expected speech either. "It's a trick," he muttered.
"No," Liora said firmly. "It isn't." She took a small step forward. "Because I saw you. Last night. You could have killed more. But you didn't."
The creature tilted its head, the movement oddly human. "You… watched."
"I did."
"Why."
Liora hesitated. How could she explain? The eyes, the flicker of something buried deep in the monstrous shape? The pull she couldn't name? "Because I think you're not what they say you are."
The Beast let out a breath like a hiss. "They… right." It lowered its head, horns catching the lantern light, half hidden by fog. "I am… what they fear."
Corren cut in, voice tight. "Liora, this is pointless. She's playing with us. You saw the fires. The dead."
"I saw hesitation," Liora shot back. She didn't look at him. Her gaze remained locked with the Beast's. "I saw her."
The creature's breathing slowed. Its shape flickered—subtle, but there. The claws softened at the edges. The face wavered between muzzle and cheekbone. The curse, Liora realized, was not a switch. It was a tide, ebbing and flowing within the same body.
"What's your name?" Liora asked.
A long silence. The fog wrapped tighter around them, muffling the world. Then, a whisper: "Maren."
Corren cursed under his breath. "Gods preserve us."
Liora ignored him. "Maren," she repeated softly. Saying the name felt like setting down a fragile piece of glass. "Why are you here? Why the grain? Why the fires?"
Maren's eyes flicked away, toward the deeper marsh. "Need," she said, voice rough. "They… coming."
"Who?" Liora pressed.
The Beast shuddered. Its form twisted briefly—limbs lengthening, then shortening again. A sound like bones grinding echoed through the trees. When it looked back at her, its voice was barely human. "Not me. Worse."
A chill rippled through Liora. "What's worse than—"
A sharp whistle cut through the night. Corren snapped his bow toward the sound. Shapes moved in the fog—too quick, too deliberate to be animals. Lantern light glinted off steel.
"Hunters," Corren hissed. "Branek's men. They followed us."
Maren's head whipped toward the sound. She bared her teeth, low growl rising again. For a heartbeat, her gaze locked with Liora's—wild, pleading. They'll kill me.
Liora's pulse hammered. She could step aside and let them. The village would call it justice. But deep in her chest, something roared no.
"This way," she whispered, gesturing toward a break in the trees. "Go."
Maren didn't move. "Trap," she rasped.
"They'll trap you if you stay."
For the first time, something flickered across Maren's face—not rage, not beast-instinct, but hesitation. Trust, brittle as ice. Then she moved—fast, a streak of shadow disappearing into the thick reeds.
The hunters emerged seconds later—five men with torches and spears, Branek's nephew at their head. "Corren!" he barked. "Did you find it?"
Corren lowered his bow, expression unreadable. "Nothing," he said smoothly. "Fog's too thick."
They spread out, muttering, jabbing at the marsh with pikes. Liora forced her face into calm neutrality, though her hands were slick with sweat.
Branek's nephew narrowed his eyes at her. "What's she doing here?"
"She's a healer," Corren said before she could answer. "Knows the marsh paths. We thought we saw movement."
"Hmph. Keep your eyes open. Old Branek wants her head on a spike before dawn." He stalked off.
When they were alone again, Corren turned to her. "You let her go."
Liora met his gaze, unflinching. "I did."
He shook his head slowly. "You're either going to save us all… or get us killed."
Maren — Beneath the Willows
Maren crouched in the hollow of an old tree, chest heaving. The lantern light and steel gleam still burned in her mind. She should have torn them apart. She should have fled the moment she smelled them.
Instead, she had stayed. Spoken. Said her name.
And the girl had let her go.
Maren pressed her hands to her face, feeling the Beast pulse beneath the skin like a second heartbeat. "Fool," she whispered. But her voice trembled.
Beyond the marsh, deeper still, a sound stirred. Not human. Not hers. A distant, keening cry that made the water ripple. The others were coming. The ones she had run from all those years ago.
And now, they would find not only her… but the village.
Liora — Return to Firelight
They returned under cover of darkness, slipping back through the western gate as the bells tolled curfew. Branek's men returned not long after, tired and cursing, convinced the Beast had slipped away through some trick of the fog.
In the quiet of her father's herb room, Liora sat with her lantern unlit, staring at her trembling hands. She'd spoken to the Beast. To Maren. She'd glimpsed the person buried inside the curse, and she'd seen fear in those eyes—not just for herself, but for something worse.
She thought of Maren's broken words. They… coming.
Who were "they"? What could make a creature like that afraid?
Her thoughts tangled, circling back again and again to the same, unshakable certainty: Maren wasn't lying.
A knock at the door made her start. Corren slipped in, closing it behind him. "They bought it," he said. "For now."
Liora looked up at him. "You believe me now."
"I believe," he said slowly, "that she didn't kill us when she had the chance. And that whatever's out there has her spooked." He leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Which is worse than her."
Liora swallowed. "Then we have to find out what's coming before the soldiers get here."
He gave a short, grim laugh. "You're planning to go back out there, aren't you?"
She didn't answer. She didn't have to.
Maren — Alone
Under the ancient arch, Maren watched the fog rise over the black water. Her claws dug into the earth. Her breath misted.
They were closer now. She could feel their hunger stirring in the marsh's heart. And this time, they wouldn't be satisfied with scraps.
She whispered into the dark, "Not ready."
And for the first time in many nights, the Beast within didn't answer.