"You're a monster!"

Isabelle gripped the hem of her worn frock, fists tightening on the material. Her honey-brown eyes, wide and fearful, fixed on the curled horns just barely peeking out of the creature's cowl. The obsidian color caught the glint of the afternoon sun.

She stared-bewitched by the fantasy of such a thing.

Unable to look away.

Unable to move.

The strange figure swayed unsteadily on its feet at the very edge of her family's garden. It moved like a black splotch of ink across the water colors of vibrant marigolds, rich plums, and periwinkle blue flowers. Their winding rows swaying against a backdrop of twisted trees.

Her mother had planted the flower garden herself, Isabelle had been told, and she took great time caring for it in memory of her.

Dutchess, her shaggy gray sheepdog, barked furiously beside her, trying valiantly to ward off the intruder. Isabelle's heart raced at the sight of something she had only heard of through the town's whispers and tales meant to scare children into behaving.

The creature moved, startling her into taking a step back. A clawed hand, covered with fur, reached up to draw its black cloak tighter around its face, concealing it. She heard the sound of labored breathing as the stranger backed further into the hedges, towards the dense forest beyond. It suddenly stumbled over some tree roots, losing its balance and falling to the ground, a harsh grunt escaping it.

Dutchess made a run for the creature, barking as she bounded across the garden towards what could surely be the end of her.

"Dutchess!" Isabelle hissed, terror for her pet inciting her to move closer to the treeline. "No! Get back here!"

She stopped short of the stranger, teetering on the verge of grabbing her dog and making a run for it. She paused, however, when she saw the beast struggle to get up. Groans of pain, mixed with heavy, rasping breaths, met her ears.

The creature's cloak shifted, and that's when she noticed the blood smeared across the front of its white shirt. It was wounded.

Oh, dear.

Dutchess had stopped barking and was moving around the creature, sniffing and wagging her tail. Isabelle took that as a good sign and curiously inched closer to get a better look at the hooded figure.

The creature drew back, clutching its black woolen cloak as though it would protect it. Now that she was closer, she could see that the beast was indeed injured, blood spilling down from somewhere in the shadow of its hooded face.

Without taking her eyes off the creature, she ran her hand across the ground, fingers closing around a sizable rock. She picked it up, ready to brandish it as a weapon as she inched ever closer to the huffing beast.

Another pained groan—or was it a growl?—escaped it as it turned away from her, drawing tighter into itself.

Her heart ached for the pitiful thing. Fear kept her feet rooted from getting closer.

"My name is Isabelle," she murmured, voice wobbling slightly. "Do you need assistance? Or perhaps some aid for—"

Her sentence died on her tongue as the beast turned toward her.

"Meat," came a rough growl from beneath the cloak, sending a shiver up her spine. "I need food."

There was a pause as she worked to comprehend its words.

"Alright then, I'll be right back," she promised. She patted her thigh as she called out to her wagging, danger-loving pet, "come, Dutchess."

She ran for the servants' kitchen, heart pounding wildly in her chest, as the sky darkened and clouds opened up, shedding soft tears onto the green land.

It was the beginning of a familiar dream.

One that often taunted her with 'what ifs.'

Letting herself sink back into it, she watched a younger Isabelle run across the lawn with messy, flying chestnut locks and a wild look in her eye. As though she had just tasted darkness on her tongue; swallowing the tingle of danger and mystery it brought to her stagnant world.

The rain poured heavier now, washing out the colors of the flowers that bent under its battering. The heavens opened up and brought down a tidal wave—

Isabelle lurched upright with a shocked gasp, coughing and spluttering as a splash of icy cold water slammed her into reality. Her heart thrummed with fear.

A thin figure stood over her, shadowed, sunken brown eyes appraising her with a familiar glower and the same indifference as the day she first moved into her father's country estate. In her hand, her stepmother, Louise, held an empty bucket.

"Get up, girl."

Isabelle looked out her attic window.

"But... it's not yet dawn." She sat there confused, staring out at the dark sky, still reeling from the rude awakening. Slowly, her racing heart calmed.

"You have visitors," Louise responded curtly, tossing her auburn ringlets behind her shoulder. She curled her lip at the girl's now half-transparent nightgown. "And put on some clothes."

With another disdainful glower, she abruptly turned and left the room, swinging the door shut. Isabelle was alone again.

Well, not completely alone.

Luckily, the water had missed most of the bedside table. She grabbed a dry matchstick, lighting the clay lamp beside her bed.

"Rosie," she whispered to the darkness, "Rosie, where are you?"

Her lamp cast long shadows across the wall of her cramped room, creating dancing shapes that flickered about with the flame. A movement caught her eye as a small white mouse scurried out from a hole in the wall, running up along her bedpost and perching itself on the straw mattress that was now thoroughly damp.

Isabelle smiled.

"There you are, Rosie." Her voice held the fondness and tenderness one reserved only for the dearest of friends. Her small white companion squeaked in response. These days it seemed that her circle of friends had dwindled down to barn animals and Rosie. She once had a far larger company of friends, but all of that had vanished when her family fell into poverty.

Noble now only in name, the Dark City had driven her family into bankruptcy by their ever-increasing demands of higher taxes and tribute. The city's claws had stretched further as the years went by. Now they even preyed on poorer villages that lay on the very edge of the kingdom's borders.

"We have a visitor," Isabelle told the mouse. I wonder who it could be?

She scooped the small thing up and placed her atop the dresser as she rummaged through the drawers for something warm and presentable to wear. She shivered dreadfully in her soaked-through garments, her teeth chattering as she hurried to change.

Isabelle slid on a knit grey dress and her late mother's blue overcoat—one that still carried her mother's favorite rose scent. It was faint, but still there.

"How do I look?" She gave a small twirl, smiling at the squeaky response from her little friend. She nodded. "Yes, I think this will do."

She reached out her hand for the mouse to crawl into and gently placed her in her coat pocket. Isabelle put out the oil lamp before she left her room, descending nimbly down the multitude of stairs toward the front foyer.

"Louise, I'm here," she announced, curious as to who would think it fit to visit at such an ungodly hour. Whatever they had come for, it must have been quite important. She looked around the barren grand hall, now void of the paintings and elegant vases that had once made the space home.

Her stepmother was waiting at the base of the stairs, foot tapping impatiently.

"The guests?" Isabelle asked as she reached her.

"Are waiting outside," Louise answered, grabbing her arm and tugging her towards the large double doors. There was a nasty smile on her face.

"Where are Anastasia and Drizella?" Isabelle glanced around for her usually chatty, noisy stepsisters, a sinking feeling settling into her gut.

"What a silly question. You would wake your sisters at this drear hour? It is not them that has been called upon. I would think that obvious," Louise reprimanded, opening the doors and lifting her sweeping red dress as she stepped outside onto the cobbled steps. Despite their hardship, her stepmother clung to her noble pride, carrying her head high and clinging to the last of her dresses and jewels like they were life itself.

Isabelle hesitated, fiddling with the edge of her coat.

"Come, girl!" Louise snapped.

Uneasy, Isabelle followed her out, her steps faltering just beyond the door as she caught sight of an iron-barred carriage and two hooded men. They turned and trudged towards her and Louise.

"M-Mother?" Isabelle started to back-peddle into the foyer but Louise grabbed her in a vicious grip, spindly fingers sinking into her upper arm. Her heart started to race, her skin breaking out in a nervous sweat.

"That the girl?" one of the men asked in a bored tone, his accent thick as mud. The foreign drawl seeped under her skin as black eyes settled on her face.

Her breath hitched.

"It's a hundred Francs for the girl, as promised," Louise said, her voice as wicked as her toothy grin.

Isabelle's stomach dropped. "No!" she hissed, wrenching herself out of her vial stepmother's grip and sprinting back into the house.

"Get her," the other hooded man said calmly, as though abducting young women was an everyday occurrence.

The first hooded man stomped over the threshold, advancing quickly towards her.

"No, stay away!" Isabelle screamed, running for the steps. She was halfway up the stairs when a meaty hand wrapped around her ankle, yanking her back. She shrieked as her hands flew out to catch herself, but before she could regain her footing, a thick arm wrapped around her waist.

Desperate, she clawed at the man's arm as he carried her downstairs.

"No, please! No!" Her shrill cries echoed off the halls as she struggled, fighting against the man's grasp. A gloved hand came up, covering her mouth as he dragged her out into the chilly night, throwing her roughly into the back of the carriage and slamming the door shut.

Isabelle scrambled to her knees, grabbing the bars of her new cage as she looked wildly out at her last sliver of hope. She reached an arm out through the bars, trembling.

"Mother, please! Whatever I have done to offend you, I'm sorry. Please! Don't do this." Isabelle beseeched through chapped lips, her eyes watering as despair drowned her. She begged the woman she called family to change her mind. To take all of this back as some cruel, wicked joke. "Please, Louise," her voice cracked. "Please, let me stay!"

Only silence met her ears.

Isabelle stared up at her stepmother's face illuminated harshly through the moonlight bars of her carriage prison. There was no remorse on that thin grimace. Not even a flicker of regret for- at the very least-the free labor she had lost. She didn't look like a monster, but she surely had the heart of one.

A woman who'd sell her own family to pay their debt.

Isabelle withdrew her arm, turning away from Louise, her long brown tresses concealing the tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. She would not cry.

"Only when it's dark can we see the stars," her father would say, tucking her in after the nightmares, and lighting the candle by her bedside. "Be brave. Shine like a star, my Isabelle. For in the light, there is nothing to fear."

But there were no stars out tonight.

Just a hollow moon that smiled at her with its crescent grin.

An unsettling grin.

For tonight, its pale glow illuminated the path that led to what would surely be her bitter end.

The driver clicked his tongue. The carriage lurched sharply forward with the sound of clopping hooves as they made for the journey ahead, towards the slavers' market and towards her new fate. She would be brave.

She would try to be brave.

A movement in her pocket grabbed her attention.

Rosie.

Isabelle slipped her hand into her pocket, holding Rosie carefully and gently, wrapping her deeper into the folds of her coat. The little white field mouse shivered in the late autumn air—her only friend and now, a stowaway companion.

🌙

The journey was not nearly long enough. Her home, just over a full day's ride from the Dark City, where the monster reigned. Perhaps the dream had been an omen, a warning.

Isabelle jostled about in her straw-floored cell as the carriage bumped along the hilly dirt road. The uncomfortable journey barred her from the sleep she so desperately craved, and she spent most of her time staring forlorn through the bars the night sky, lost in her own thoughts. Thoughts that became more twisted and dark as the journey wore on.

Oh, what she wouldn't give for her soft blankets and pillows, snuggled by a warm fire. Isabelle wished for her father and the warmth of holding him in her arms again, telling her everything would be alright.

But he was gone. Taken by illness last spring, just as her mother had years before.

Isabelle took small comfort in the notion that, perhaps, she would soon join them in Heaven. For where she was going, none had returned.

"Whoa!" The carriage lurched to a stop, jarring her out of her wistful memories. Isabelle braced herself, clutching the bars on the side of the carriage.

She heard footsteps and the clanging of keys opening the lock and sucked in a breath; eyes wide open and mind fully alert now.

They were here.

The early dawn peeked over the rolling hills behind them, illuminating the village in its sliver of light. It would be the last light she would get to see, and Isabelle took a moment to savor its beauty.

The door swung open, and Isabelle jerked back, scrunching herself into the back corner. Only when one of the men squeezed inside with iron shackles did she move to make a break for it, holding her pocket protectively.

She tried to dart past the man's thick frame, but he was faster.

He grabbed her by the hair, shoving her onto the ground. She cradled her pocket as the man roughly clamped the shackles onto her feet, sealing any last hope of escape.

He dragged her out and onto her feet, shoving her forward.

Defeated, she followed him, swallowing nervously as she stepped into a new dark world filled with looming thatch buildings and lamp-lit streets.

A place continually shrouded in darkness and fear-Amboise- better known as the Dark City.