"Dad?" I whispered, not sure what answer I hoped to hear back.
The beast glanced over its broad shoulder, a flash of gnarled horns peeked out from underneath its sorrowful stare, but then it simply turned back pulling tighter into itself as if trying to hide or move into a cocoon-like a caterpillar in the spring.
"Is that you?" I took a slow step in the direction of the beast, the sound of the shattered glass crumbling beneath my feet breaking the awkward silence between us. As I reached the side of my parent’s grand bed, the fear of what I might be walking towards started to sink into my bones. What if this wasn't really my father?
"Go away, Fallon, I don't want to see anyone right now," the gruff voice said, but with a waver that fought against the postured aggressive tone.
"Mom told me about the curse, that you needed help. I wanted to see for myself. See what I could do.”
Another sigh, the same grim sadness, but ten shades darker.
"I can't control it, Fallon. Not this time. It isn't safe for you to be here."
"You don't look very dangerous to me. C'mon Dad, why don't you get up. I’ll have the kitchen staff make you a bowl of your favorite Aborian stew and you can tell me about it. Or maybe just get some rest. You must be exhausted from being up all night."
My father's shoulders fell then he stood, finally exposing his new form and I jolted backward. Fur covered his entire body, and the horns I'd only glimpsed protruded from above his bushy forehead curled and twisted in horrific shapes like the shadows that spread across the room from his immense size. At least three feet taller than my human father, and nearly twice as wide. He'd be a beast from size alone, even without the deformities.
I bit the inside of my cheek trying not to be afraid. To be the brave soldier that royalty needed to be in times of crisis. The quality I'd never managed to test and hoped I never would.
"See. That's better. Why don't you come sit on the bed, it's more comfortable than the floor? Plus…well…you've run out of chairs."
"You need to go," he repeated, the words coming out more brusque this time around.
"Maybe tell me what's going on first. I deserve that."
He stood stoic but didn't argue, although his silence shook me with the same level of terror.
"You'd probably feel better if we cleaned up some of this mess."
With slow movements, I inched over to the other side of the fireplace to the haphazard pile of books shredded on the floor. My mother's heart would break to see such disregard for her things, especially since they may have come from her private collection. I didn't share her love for literature, but at least I could respect it, even if the thought of reading more than necessary for survival built tension in my neck and shoulders.
"I told you to go," my father bellowed again, accompanied with a growl straight from his gut, menacing and deadly.
I froze, a book split clean through the spine dangled from my hand.
"I just wanted to help."
He shuddered, his feet lost control as he fell back a few steps, and he staggered in tight circles between the wall and the fireplace, his massive arms swinging out for anything to steady him or worse something to throw. He shook his head, his stare unfocused and his eyes flipped through shades of fear and anger like a kaleidoscope of his soul.
I dropped the book and eased toward him, my hands held out in front of me. "Easy. It's going to be okay. What can I do?"
His head snapped toward my voice. "Who are you?"
"It's me, Dad, Fallon. Your son."
"I don't..." His voice broke until his words came out in a series of growls and snarls, a stone mask slipping over his expression until the small part of him that I still recognized disappeared in the dusky light.
"What do need me to do?"
He growled again and buckled over, his face scrunched tight.
"Run, Fallon. I need you to run."
"I'm not just going to leave..."
He reared his head back with a howl, brandishing lines of sharp pointed teeth. Fangs. Like ones you'd imagine dripping with blood on the monsters of horror stories. Crimson daggers ready to rip the flesh from your bones. A thing of nightmares.
Blood pounded in my ears as my throat parched. "You don't want to do this."
He stalked toward me, and I matched each step with one in reverse. His snarl morphed into a half-smile, but not the kind I'd ever hoped to see. No joy or happiness, just delicious evil curling across his lips like his body could no longer contain the feeling.
"Just calm down, Dad. It's me. I'll go get Mom. It'll be okay."
My pleas fell from my lips to the ground, completely missing their mark. The human inside was gone.
I twisted toward the door and raced at my freedom, my stare still locked on the monster. Step after step landed on the uneasy ground, and my ankles tweaked left and right as the beast's hungry breath crept across my shoulders. Kidnapping, war, assassination, these were the worthy deaths for royalty, not at the hands of their own father--or whatever my father had become. Six feet to the door, maybe five. I pushed harder, forcing all the strength I had in to my legs to save me. Three feet. My knee slammed against the side of an armchair and I faltered. My stomach hollowed as weightlessness took over and I plummeted to the ground. Glass carved my palms as I held up my body. Shards dug through the
