Page 12 of House of the Beast

“Not far,” he replied. “Not outside the estate. But I promise it will be worth it.”

I was already outside, I reasoned. This madness already had its hold on me. I might as well see what it was.

The moon overhead was nearly full and glowed a steady silver, bright enough to light the edges of the estate.

In the distance the dark woods loomed, and the intricate paths weaving through the grounds were as unwelcoming as when I had attempted my escape, but my companion led me forward without hesitation.

For the first time since I had arrived, I was not afraid of the shadows, allowing him to guide me in and out of pockets of darkness from the bushes, the sides of buildings, a statue.

Wind nipped at my face, but the excitement of our stealth kept me warm.

And sure enough, no guards saw us; my companion seemed to always know where they were looking, and would sequester us safely in the darkness away from their searching eyes.

When they turned away, he would whisper, “Now,” in my ear and pull me forward to scamper past them unseen.

He led us like this, hiding and racing under the cover of foggy night, until I realized we had reached the temple. The temple that had marked my entrance to House Avera, consecrated with a flesh sacrifice to the Beast.

Here, I came to a stop. The suddenness of it pulled my companion’s hand out from mine.

Even at this hour, the temple braziers were still lit, burning diligently against the dark, and it reminded me too much of the way the light had danced across my blood on the floor.

I had given myself to the House here because I thought it would save my mother, and it hadn’t even mattered in the end.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” I asked, voice wobbling as I remembered the cut of my father’s blade.

“Not exactly,” said my friend mysteriously, his confidence unwavering even in the face of my apprehension. “We have to go up.”

“I don’t want to go in there.” I was beginning to regret coming outside at all. My arm throbbed with phantom pain and my throat felt thick, like the cries I hadn’t managed to get out last time were still inside me. I should have listened to my instincts. Why would he bring me back here?

“Alma,” he said, coming to take my hand again. “Nothing inside can hurt you. It’s just me. I’ll make sure you don’t have to be afraid of anything else, ever again.”

I mulled his words over. He was right, in a way. My worst fears had already come to pass. And the dark presence haunting me, the one I had tried so hard not to see, was holding my hand.

What else did I have left to fear?

Smiling again, as if he already knew I had given in, my companion led me through the gaping mouth of the temple.

There was nobody inside. The air was warmer here, surrounded by crackling braziers and sheltered from the wind, but I still shuddered at the sight of that great statue’s metal maw.

Thankfully, we did not stop before it. Instead, we went past the altar and into the back of the temple, where a narrow set of wooden stairs led up into the darkness.

They creaked under our feet as we climbed.

At the top there was an alcove with a door.

He pushed it open, and the darkness suddenly gave way to a vast night sky illuminated by thousands of magnificent stars.

We were on a balcony that was level with the tree line, the wind pushing at us as soon as we were outside.

The chill of it seeped instantly through my thin nightgown and sent my companion’s robes flying, but the view was enough to drive all protest from my mind, if only for a moment.

Up here, I could see past the trees and over the mountain, the town clustered at the bottom of it, dark buildings dotted with twinkling lights.

The mountains stretched onward to my left, covered with forest, some of the peaks so grand they almost scraped against the sky, while to my right were roads and train tracks that would lead to other towns and eventually into the city.

In the daytime, this view had been imposing in its austere beauty. At night, with the wind whistling through the pines and the crisp chill of the air, it felt—lonely. I felt myself drawn to the edge of the balcony, tugged forward by an inexplicable ache in my chest.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” said my companion.

I hummed in response, unable to offer much more than that.

“All of this is going to belong to your father.”

His words jarred me from my thoughts. My moment of peace was gone, as if swept away by the wind. “What?”

“From the northern border, along these mountains, and all the way to Sorrowsend—and more if he’s aggressive about it.”

I did not understand. Tonight was the first reprieve I’d had from the crushing weight of my mother’s passing, and he was telling me that this, too, would be taken from me. “Did you bring me here to make me angry?” I asked incredulously.

“Of course,” he admitted easily. “After everything your father’s done, why wouldn’t you be angry? Look at everything he’s taken. And he’ll keep taking, from you and everyone who lives beneath him, unless someone does something about it.”

“What am I supposed to do?” I snapped. “I have nothing. I’m helpless against him.”

“Not with me,” said my friend, still staring calmly at the town below. “Not if I guide you.”

It didn’t make sense. Was this a test? Was the Dread Beast trying to prove my loyalty? Avera was His domain, and my father was one of the vessels He had chosen to lead it. He was the reason I had even been brought here. “What are you asking me to do?”

His expression darkened. Under the glowing moonlight, with the wind sweeping his hair to and fro, he looked like a vengeful ghost or spirit of old.

I was tempted to touch him again just to make sure he was real.

“Zander Avera is not a worthy candidate to represent this House. He will bring Avera to ruin with his selfish ambitions. You’ve already seen the lengths he’ll go to. ”

I had indeed. I knew my father was a greedy man. He had had no problem ruining my life to get his way and I could see him doing the same to all of Avera, and while I had no attachment to this place, I couldn’t stand the thought of him going unpunished for his greed.

“So, take his power away,” I retorted quickly.

My companion’s words had stirred something inside me—a light, fiery thing almost like excitement, or maybe just a desire to see my father crawling like a dog.

But I still couldn’t wrap my head around what he was asking of me.

“You can end his ambitions right now. You don’t need me. ”

“But I do need you,” he said, almost whining.

He took my hand again in both of his. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.

Your father plans for you to join his retinue eight years from now when he embarks upon the Pilgrimage to prove himself.

I want you to take that glory instead. House Avera’s had enough of bitter, selfish fools fighting with each other over politics and bloodlines.

You, Alma, are different. I want you to be the next First Hand of the Beast—but every leader needs a trial, don’t you think?

Your father must be yours. Let him be the obstacle you overcome, and then all of this”—he let go of me and stretched his arms wide, fingertips reaching from the forest to the twinkling town lights—“will belong to you instead.”

It was ridiculous. I didn’t want all of this to be mine. What would I even do with all these people, all this land?

“I just want to go home,” I confessed in a small voice.

I had said it so many times since coming here but had never meant it as much as in this moment.

I wanted life to go back to the way it was before I had left—before death had touched it so keenly.

I wanted the familiarity of my old narrow bed, the warmth of the creaky apartment floorboards, and for my mother to stroke my hair and convince me that everything was going to be all right.

Those starlit eyes softened. That silver head tilted to the side in sympathy, and one gentle hand came up to cup my cheek. The touch startled me; it felt like it had been an age since anyone had touched me like that. Like my mother had done, before I had left her.

“I know, Alma,” he said. “But your father was right. Your home as you knew it is gone now. And it’s all his fault.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe that the blame lay with my father—that if he hadn’t forced me into House Avera, that if he had only listened to me, none of this would have happened.

My mother was dead, and I didn’t even deserve to mourn her.

I remembered the look on her face when she had caught me talking to my friend—the wariness that I now understood.

She had done her best to keep me away from this, but I had ignored her warnings because I thought I knew better.

I never even said a proper goodbye. It hurt so much, and I wanted the pain to end. But more than that, I wanted someone else to pay for it.

“It’s all his fault,” I agreed in a hoarse whisper. “But I don’t know how—”

“You don’t have to know how to lead House Avera yet,” my companion continued kindly.

“That can come later. But if it belonged to you, you would be the one to control your own life. You would not have to sit sequestered away in that little guesthouse, left like an old toy to gather dust until you were of use again. And most important of all: you’d keep it from going to your father instead.

Zander shouldn’t get to use you like this and win, should he? ”

“No,” I said, my voice gaining strength. Everything had been taken from me, but here was the promise of gaining something back. Something that my father had wanted.

What would it feel like—to steal that from him and leave him powerless?

“But I don’t know how,” I said again, and this time it came out sounding less like a protest and more like a plea for help.

My companion’s smile could have lit up the night sky.

He grabbed my hand, almost jumping up and down in his excitement.

It was such a childish gesture that it made me smile too.

Was this truly the harbinger of death so feared by Kugara?

The books had all been wrong. The horrible paintings, the whispered prayers, none of them captured this side of him.

I felt as if I had been granted something special—a sight meant for me alone.

“I will be by your side and give you my guidance,” he declared. “I will hone your skill beyond what even your most devout relatives could imagine. If you give yourself to me, I will help you get everything you want. You will never be alone again.”

The words filled me with a want so powerful it nearly knocked me to my knees.

It was the same kind of want I had felt keenly the last few weeks, for my mother’s smile, for my missing arm, for my home as it was.

All of that was gone now—but my friend was offering to fill the awful emptiness of that with something else.

To be by my side, now that no one else was.

Who could be a more constant, enduring companion than an elder god?

“What do I have to do?” I said. I even found the energy to add, with a wavering attempt at a smile, “I hope you’re not going to take my other arm.”

“Nothing of the sort!” he assured me, shaking his head vehemently as if to dispel the very notion. “Just be my friend again, Alma. Together, we’ll be unstoppable. I’ll help you become the most fearsome thing raised by House Avera, and nothing will stand in your way.”

I stared at the hand that held my own, knowing that it had originally belonged to me.

Just like my life, I supposed—once mine, now given in exchange for something greater.

It was an offer that ignited a fire in me I had thought would never burn again.

I would have a purpose—something to live for, beyond my grief.

“Okay,” I said. “I accept your mission, Beast.”

He blinked at me and then laughed, a clear, hearty, boyish laugh that rang out into the mountains. I had never imagined that Kugara’s most terrifying god could sound like this. “Beast! I hope that’s not how you’ll refer to me from now on.”

My face heated and I scowled at him. He was teasing me . It felt so human of him, and that gave me the courage to grumble, “I don’t know what else to call you.”

“Don’t you remember?” he said, his wide smile dimpling his cheeks and lighting him up even further. “You used to call me Aster.”

Aster. The boy from the stars. Of course I remembered. How could I have forgotten?

“All right, Aster,” I said, squeezing his hand, feeling his fingers wrap sweetly around my own. “Let’s be friends.”