Astrid

They chase me. Worse yet, some start to recognize me. They call out my name. I push myself harder and harder, turning corners until my body slams against the heavy iron door.

I can hear it. Him. That heavy breathing, that relentless thump-thump-thump of the beast’s body against the door as it tries to break free. It is nearly drowned out by the outraged cries of the men scrambling to reach me.

One of their faces comes into view under the lit torches. Round and furious, my neighbour looks nothing like the chatty man who used to seek my father out for long walks the nights after we heard his wife threaten to throw him out of the house for petty reasons.

“Please, please, turn around!” I beg helplessly. But to no avail. They keep coming closer.

They know I am leading them to it. They want to seek out the beast.

They are not ready to face it.

My fingers turn the latch.

The door bursts open in an explosion, sending me flying into the wall like a ragdoll. My injured cheek scrapes further across the stone as my body crumples to the floor.

Screams erupt all around me. But before I can even stagger to my feet, they stop abruptly.

Silence. I find the nearest torch and take it off the wall.

“Light yourself,” I whisper to it shakily.

It illuminates a good twenty corpses. Blood is splattered all over the walls, filling my nostrils with a rancid mix of iron and death.

I run as fast as my legs will allow. The bodies continue until the corridor gives way to the front entrance of the castle, where the doors are broken down and the light of the fire no longer blazes outside.

Here the screams continue. It is pandemonium; confusion and horror and anger all mix in an abhorrent melody, tempting me to anchor my palms over my ears. Skin and flesh rip like thick fabric.

Amidst the current of bodies I find Isabelle. She is howling at the top of her lungs, pushing at everyone wildly. She is barely audible against the harrowing screams in the castle. I run to block an attack coming from behind her.

“Stop fighting it,” I can hear her plead. “Run. Please!”

Then she spots me. Our backs press against each other as we try to defend ourselves, but there isn’t much need for it. Everyone is targeting the beast.

Everyone is dying.

“Astrid, we have to do something,” her voice is raw. “We have to lead it outside. They won’t stop.”

A slice travels across her lips. She calls Kieran’s name out repeatedly.

But he cannot hear us. Not without focus; not when there is a mob of people swarming around him with fire and weapons.

My feet carry me into the throng before I can even formulate half a plan. I am taken in, closer and closer to the beast.

Those jagged talons swipe over my head. I tuck and roll out of the way, and push towards the staircase behind the beast. My hand reaches down to where the daggers are strapped to my shins.

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For once, I do not miss.

The metal embeds itself deeply into the monster’s back.

A wrathful screech pierces the air. It throws its head back and digs its claws into its flesh until the metal is knocked off, as if the knife were a mere irritating needle.

Then it turns.

Those venomous yellow orbs narrow in on me.

I take off before it can even start bounding up the staircase. The crowd slows it down, but only barely. When I trip over the steps, I scramble on my hands and feet like a dog.

The top floor of the West Wing is eerily quiet despite the chaos below. The great mass of the beast causes it to crash into brick and stone whenever it turns, earning me a running start into the mirror room.

Eli jumps when I burst through the doors. He is standing exactly where I need him to be: in front of the mirror.

I make a direct beeline for him and pick him up.

“Hold your breath, count to ten, then swim to the surface,” I order.

Praying he has registered my orders, I toss the boy into the mirror.

The door bursts open. The beast’s claws dig into the doorframe and it sticks its ugly snout into the room. When it roars, I dash towards the balcony.

My hands lash out towards the bell jar atop the table. The glass shatters against the floor. My fingers scrape against the table, so hard that the pressure causes my fingernails to sink back into flesh.

Something sharp catches in my calf and yanks. Fire ignites up my entire right leg.

I crash.

Twisting against the weight pinned down on my leg, I come face-to-face with the monster’s contorted face. Its jaw unhinges to reveal a cavern of darkness.

Before those fangs can reach me, I release the rose’s ashes from my fist.

Time freezes. Or perhaps it is us who are frozen.

Those slits widen into pupils. A colour colder than yellow returns to its irises.

He releases my leg and begins to claw at his own face. The rising moonlight illuminates every detail: the matted hairs on his face begin to recede, and the claws begin to constrict. His size diminishes.

Slowly, pink, raw skin begins to emerge.

I drag my burning leg across the floor and ready myself to launch into the mirror across the room. I suck in a gulp of air. But before I can touch the mirror, a hand sticks out of the surface. Water splashes all over the floor.

My fingers interlock with Eli’s and I pull with all my might.

He tumbles over me. Since I cannot hold our combined weight on my injured leg, we both fall onto the ground. The boy coughs and splutters, but no water spills from his throat.

“You did it,” I gasp for air as much as he does. I push wet locks of hair off his forehead as he gazes up at me, stunned.

His features contort. Those small, balled fists fly to his face, but I have already seen his grief.

“Mama,” he sobs, confused. “Where is Mama?”

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. That was why he was looking in the mirror - to watch us.

To watch his mother die.

“Where is she?” his scream breaks the peace of the room.

I have to hold him, to hold his head into my chest as those bunched fists fly at my sore arms.

“I’m sorry,” I say shakily. The delayed pain starts to pierce my own chest. I swipe the first tear that streaks across my cheek, but the rest of them follow too quickly. “I’m so sorry.”

We both hold each other and weep.

Our grief is cut short by Kieran’s groans. I pull myself away from him, remembering why Imogen sacrificed herself for us in the first place.

“Forgive me, Eli,” I implore again, wiping the free-flowing tears from his face. He refuses to look at me. “But I need you to do something for me. You and I – you and I have to protect Bayorn and Isabelle and Kieran, alright?”

Eventually, amazingly, he nods.

I kiss his damp hair.

“Go to Kieran’s chambers down the hall and find him something to clothe himself with. And then you must take him, and lock him in another room. Do not come out, do you understand? Stay with Kieran.”

It takes me too long to rise to my feet. I shift most of my weight onto my good leg.

Eli’s hand reaches up to tug on my trousers. His lower lip wobbles.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

My eyes flicker towards Kieran’s unconscious form. Has he already paid his price? Is it my time now?

“To put an end to this once and for all.”