Ravehaven
The air was heavy with the aroma of spice and warm honey.
Eliora was shaping sweet buns inside the pastry shop, leaning over the counter with her hands moving with practiced grace.
She was glowing.
No matter how hard she tried to hide it, the subtle shimmer of her skin, the delicate line of her jaw, and the brightness in her eyes all attracted attention.
She didn't notice the scarf slipping until her mother did.
"Eliora," Maya snapped. "Your scarf."
Startled, Eliora blinked before pulling the cloth back into position and hiding the lower half of her face once more.
She muttered, "I forgot."
"That's what I'm afraid of." Maya said in a tight voice. "You forget things too quickly. It ends when a beast spots you after just one moment of exposure. Do you not understand?"
Eliora's fingers became still in the dough. "Mama..."
Her mother's eyes became stern. "In this world, your face is a curse rather than a gift. We could all be killed by a beauty like yours."
As he wrapped fresh bread loaves behind the counter, her father, Jonas, softly said, "Maya. She's not flaunting herself, she is working."
"That's all it takes," Maya snapped. "One of them passes by, one glance through that window, and we lose her. You've heard the stories."
Jonas let out a sigh, "None of us will be saved by fear. Allow her to breathe."
Maya didn't respond, only turned away, muttering under her breath.
Jonas exhaled and looked at Eliora. "Your mother worries because she loves you. Don't take it to heart."
Eliora managed a small, tired smile. "I know, Papa."
The bell above the door jingled.
Old Henrik shuffled in, wrapped in his patched cloak. His nose twitched at the scent. "By the saints, it smells heavenly in here."
Eliora laughed softly. She lifted a small bag from the counter. "Here. The honey twists you like. They're warm."
He started fishing for coins, but she shook her head. "Don't. You helped patch the shop roof last spring."
"That was months ago."
"Then I'm late saying thank you."
His eyes softened. "You are too kind for your own good, Eliora."
When he left, Maya exhaled. "You can't keep giving things away."
"It was one bag," Eliora said. "He's old, and he helped us."
"That's not the point. Kindness draws notice. Kindness won't save you if trouble comes."
Eliora only whispered, "Maybe it'll save someone else."
Jonas hid a smile. "That's my girl."
By noon, the little shop filled with customers, children, farmers, traders, and women with shawls drawn tight.
Laughter mixed with the smell of bread. It almost felt safe.
Then the door opened again.
Two women entered, pale-faced and whispering.
"Maya," one said, clutching her cloak. "You've heard about Westmere?"
Maya stilled the knife in her hand. "No. What happened?"
The woman's eyes darted toward Eliora, then back. "They're gone. The beasts burned the whole village this morning."
Eliora froze. "What?! Why?"
"They say Westmere refused the tribute," the second woman said. "The King's soldiers came down at dawn. Fire everywhere. They took whoever survived north, to serve in the capital."
Jonas frowned. "That can't be right. Their chief was loyal."
"Loyalty means nothing anymore," the first woman whispered. "Especially with the King the way he is."
Eliora looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"
The women hesitated, then leaned in.
"You've heard the rumors, haven't you?"
"The Beast King is changing."
"Growing worse."
Maya swallowed. "Worse? That's bad."
"They say the curse is eating at him faster. That he's… losing himself." The woman shivered. "If he doesn't find his mate soon, he'll go feral."
Jonas scoffed softly. "Old stories."
"Not anymore," the woman insisted. "There were sightings last moon, storms breaking out of nowhere, ground splitting in the northern mountains. The seers said it's because the King's control is slipping."
"And when he loses control," the other whispered, "everyone suffers."
Eliora listened quietly but the moment the Beast King's name was spoken, something strange trembled through her.
Her fingers stopped mid-knead.
She frowned.
Her chest tightened… oddly. Her vision blurred for half a second.
Her mother noticed. "Ellie? Are you alright?"
Eliora blinked the sensation away and forced a smile. "Yes, just dizzy. I think I have worked up myself."
But the feeling didn't fade completely.
The women continued. "There's talk about our own chief too, he's been saying we should lower the tributes."
Jonas frowned. "Lower? They already take so little from us. It's the only mercy they've ever given."
"Exactly," the woman said. "And he calls it humiliation. Says we should stand tall again. Foolishness."
Maya snorted. "Foolish doesn't cover it. If the beasts find out, they'll do to us what they did to Westmere... or worse."
The women nodded grimly. "We should pray he keeps his mouth shut."
When they left, the shop fell quiet again, but the silence wasn't peaceful, it was thick with dread.
Eliora finally spoke. "Do you think they'll come here?"
"Not if the chief keeps his head down," Maya said.
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then we pray," Maya answered.
Jonas added softly, "And you stay hidden."
Maya reached for a basket. "Here, take this to Mrs. Vera's. Six berry tarts. Deliver it and come straight back."
Jonas frowned. "She can go later."
"It's better while there's light," Maya insisted.
Eliora tied her cloak and pulled her veil tight. "I'll be careful."
"And keep your face covered," Maya pleaded. "Promise me."
"I promise."
The streets of Ravehaven were quiet under the pale sky. Frost gathered on the stones.
The town looked peaceful.
Eliora walked quickly, holding her basket close. She passed familiar faces. At a corner, she saw old Mrs. Branna struggling with a bucket.
"Let me help you," Eliora said at once.
"Bless you, dear," Branna breathed with relief.
Once the bucket was carried inside, the old woman touched Eliora's arm. "Kindness is rare now."
"Maybe that's why we shouldn't lose it," Eliora replied.
Branna smiled faintly. "Then may your heart stay protected."
Eliora completed her delivery and headed back.
The sun was sinking when she heard it, faint thunder at first.
Then the ground trembled.
Hooves.
Eliora turned and saw them, dozens of riders, cloaked in black, pouring into the village.
Beasts.
Screams tore the air.
"Run!" someone shouted. "They're here!"
Arrows struck doorposts. Fire bloomed.
"No…" Eliora whispered.
She ran, dropping her basket.
She ran past crying children, past the baker's square, heart racing. She turned onto her street and froze.
Flames devoured the pastry shop. The roof crackled, collapsing in bursts of sparks.
"Mama!" she screamed. "Papa!"
No answer.
She surged forward but a massive clawed hand seized her arm.
"Stop," a deep voice ordered.
A beast soldier. Cold-grey eyes. Expression like stone.
"Let me go!" she gasped. "My parent, please!"
"Orders are to gather the living."
Another soldier approached, larger, silver streaks in his fur. "Leave her. The house is gone."
"They could still be..."
"Dead," he said simply. "Move."
Rough hands turned her toward the burning square and her veil slipped.
Her red curls spilled out, bright against the smoke-dark sky.
The air stilled.
The first soldier's grip faltered. "By the saints…"
Another murmured, "She's human?"
"Yes," the silver one said, "but look at her."
"Red hair," one whispered.
"Rare for humans."
"Rare for anyone," the other said.
They stared, not with lust alone, but unease.
Her beauty didn't tempt them; it unnerved them. Her eyes, warm brown, full of fear caught the firelight, and for a heartbeat, not one of them moved.
"Cover her," one muttered sharply. "Before the captain sees."
"Why?" Eliora whispered.
The soldier's jaw clenched. "Because you exist, girl. That's enough."
They yanked her scarf back down and forced her into the gathering crowd of captives.
Smoke choked the air. Flames roared behind her.
The last thing she saw of Ravehaven was the sky burning red over the snow and the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same again.