The Beast Within

Somewhere, In the Night

The wind had no mind for mercy.

It swept through the trees, blanketing cold and leaving a trail of chilled fur and shivering beasts behind it. There was no particular quarry it sought—not yet—other than a desire to inflict the same despair that dug into the core of its being. A great loss had been sustained, and the dwellers of the woods, innocent or not, would receive punishment for it.

From the air came a boot that landed on the ground. A body joined after, and in the blink of an eye, the King of the Wood became visible. He paused his furious travel and rested against the trunk of a nearby tree. The wounds recently sustained during the battle that followed his marriage were knitting together on their own, but not as quickly as wounds had in the past.

They even threatened to leave a scar, which their owner found strangely amusing. With no thought on the injury such an action might bring, he brought his fingers to the gash in his stomach and absentmindedly began to pick and scratch, finding morbid satisfaction in the sting of pain as scab separated from skin. The deepest, most secret part of him found it fitting to invite fresh misery.

Take what you want.

Choose kindness.

A thousand voices roared simultaneously in Ajo's head. The harm done to his mind was far more severe, and it was the only piece of him, it seemed, that did not know how to heal. Some of the voices urged him towards compassion. Others advised cautious indifference, to let go of sorrow. Most of them sued for violence.

Faces and memories danced across his vision, and Ajo could not discern which were real or remembered, which were important, and which were better forgotten.

The one thing he was certain of was that Galeia's daughter belonged to him.

Credence said her vows and sealed them with a kiss.

The fight that followed was unimportant.

But what did she mean to Ajo, this new queen?

Was she someone who could rule beside him—

Someone to love?

How could he love anyone but Galeia? It wasn't clear whether that was possible.

What if Credence was another heart that would reject and deceive him?

An enemy?

Would he need to kill her, too?

Perhaps she was a treasure to be hoarded, put into another tree more grand than the first—

His revenge on Galeia.

A piece of her, belonging to him forever.

Or until he decided what to do with his wife.

Love her, imprison her, hate her, kill her, forget her...

Anger, indifference, passion, jealousy.

He could no longer feel one without feeling all the others, always, at the same time.

There was a fear that it would drive him beyond reason.

He needed a moment to himself, without the voices demanding some kind of action. He was used to being alone, and solitude suited him. Perhaps Credence needed a moment, too. She knew what it was like to be alone, after all.

They were alike in that regard.

And perhaps, once her anger subsided, she would return to him. If she didn't, he would have to find her. What outcome would be reached then would rely entirely on the mood of their reunion, where her life would balance between eternal happiness and painful death.

If only she were with him now. He could talk to her, try to make her see reason. 

Or he could choke the air from her lungs and be done. 

Ajo winced as another piece of dried skin came loose under his fingernail. A fresh raised line took its place in an instant.

There were other concerns warranting his attention. Rumors of a rebellion stirring, and a defeated queen looking to regain glory. Wanting to take what was rightfully his. Ajo would not give up his throne, and his mother was determined not to let him keep it. She would have to take it by force, through a path that was surely painted in blood.

His finger dug deeper this time, and with a quick but violent tear, he removed a large patch of scabbing.  Ajo shivered, and when he looked down he found that no new scab had risen to take the place of the old one. Instead, skin had grown over, but on its surface was a nasty pinkish scar. Several of the voices in his head screamed at how foolish he was, while others told him he deserved every bit of torture. For a moment he pondered digging into the scar, but decided it suited him and returned his attention to the impending war against his mother.

An army was easy enough to summon. Prisoners were equally as easy to acquire, though a new prison would be needed to hold them. Such things could occupy him for now. 

And yet, every so often, a single question returned to his thoughts:

Keep my queen or kill her.

At present, Ajo couldn't decide which outcome he preferred.

***

A modest fire burned against the darkness that hugged its edges. The crackle of wood falling to flame gave a whisper of sound to the otherwise silent cave, where Credence and Josiah remained awkwardly silent, both seeking the proper moment to speak.

It was Josiah, to the shock of his sister, who found his voice first.

"I'm not proud of it, but I lost hope. It was so long ago...I remember flashes of your face. A fire. It was night and we had no shelter. I was afraid of what would happen. I heard your voice. You were talking to someone, but it wasn't me. I wanted so badly to speak, to tell you I was here, I was right there beside you. I tried to squeeze your hand—"

"I felt you! It gave me hope."

Josiah's expression displayed no comfort in her answer, and he continued in a solemn tone:

"You said my name, but I couldn't answer. I knew I was going to die, and it was only a matter of when. Of how many more seconds I got to stay. I didn't want you to be alone. I wanted so badly to survive—for you. I couldn't leave you. But I was hurt, and you could not carry me any further. Then you left, and I..."

Josiah's eyes narrowed, and the stiffening of his posture reminded Credence of an animal poised to strike.

"You left to find help, and not long after, I died."