Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Monster ❯ Monster ( One-Shot )

A/N: This is a work of original fiction belonging solely to the authoress, Dracoqueen22 (aka Cassandra Smith). Any attempts to reproduce and make money off of this fiction will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. With that said, thanks for reading and please leave a review before you go!

Monster

They said that there was a monster in these woods, but Hadrian never believed them. And why should he? Creatures. Blood eyes in the dark. Hairy hands creeping from beneath his bed. They were nothing more than children's stories, tales told by parents to keep their young ones in line.

Obey us! Else the Troblin will eat you!

Listen to your parents, or face the wrath of the Troblin!

His brother especially loved to scare him. Omi had always been cruel, and he enjoyed nothing more than inflicting his sadism on his sibling. But in the end, that was fine. It made Hadrian all the stronger for it.

Yet, the woods certainly seemed like the type to harbor some lumbering, clawed abomination. They were dark, thick with dense undergrowth, and old, mossy tendrils hung from every branch. The trees blotted out the sky, their lower parts completely bare, while the higher branches were pale and spindly, a little too much like skeletal arms for anyone's comfort. And it was always cold, regardless of the season, the chilled air of the overlooking mountains drifting down into their little valley.

Only hunters, like Hadrian's father and mother, ever ventured past the outer edges of the forest. They were the few brave enough to do so. Myth and legend held great stock in his tiny village, especially when their chieftain regaled them with every frightening tale over the autumn bonfires.

The beast, the Troblin, was blamed for almost everything, and the fear held by the populace was matched only by their cowardice. It was a murderer, a foul thing with a taste for human flesh. It had never been killed, never been caught, and as of yet, it had never actually been seen. They had found bodies sure enough, and they were consistently fresh, regardless of how long the hunter had been missing. However, no one had ever laid eyes on the beast itself and lived to tell the tale. And despite having no real proof of its existence, the villagers still believed. It was out there, somewhere, just waiting patiently for its next meal.

But now, as Hadrian stepped alone into the woods for the first time in his very short life, he began to wonder if there wasn't perhaps some truth to the stories. His heart raced and his palms sweated profusely as he took one hesitant step and then another. It couldn't have all been caused by a fantasy, after all. So many people couldn't possibly be wrong.

He inched further into the wood, not the least bit comforted by the steady weight of his sword at his right hip, which put him off balance, even if he was supposed to be used to it. His bottom lip pulled anxiously between his teeth with each cautious step, going further and further into the gloom. His knees trembled, nearly knocking together as he moved, and he longed to turn and flee as fast as his feet could carry him.

It was only the feel of his parents eyes boring into the back of his skull, their disappointment washing over him like tepid water and dampening all thoughts of escape that kept him from running. He had to do this. There was no other way. To redeem himself and his honor and his family, Hadrian had to survive the Larian Woods.

In his mind's eye, as his home disappeared behind him, he recalled why he had to do this. How he had cursed himself to this task.

 

“You abandoned your post, Hadrian!” his chieftain all but shrieked, and he pointed his accusing finger at the boy. “You are a coward! You fled at the sound of their screams.”

“No!” Hadrian denied. “I was there the entire time!” He would never leave his post. His parents had trained him better than that. “I never… I didn't…” he trailed off, face lowering in shame as the council murmured behind him, obviously not believing.

The proof was against him. Dalian's mutilated body had been found and brought back for a proper burial. The boy had only been out for an evening stroll with his friends. True, he had strayed close to the forest edge, but the boy's death was on Hadrian's conscience; he was the one charged with guard duty that fateful night, and he had failed dismally. Somehow, the Troblin had made a meal of the child.

A sob rose up from the right, but Hadrian couldn't even look at the miserable woman it came from. Dalian's mother was a widow already, and now, she was childless as well.

“We came running!” one of Dalian's friends cried.

Hadrian winced at his voice, knowing that the boy was lying. He hated the unfairness of it, but knew better than to speak aloud.

“We looked for the night guard but couldn't find him. There was no one! No one!”

But even so, Hadrian couldn't deny that the fault was his. If he had been more vigilant, better trained, he would have heard the approach of the Troblin. For his failure to protect a child, he deserved punishment.

The chieftain turned his eyes back onto Hadrian's, his gaze having hardened completely. His eyes were full of rage and disappointment, and that hurt Hadrian the most, that his leader thought so little of him, believed him nothing more than a liar and a coward.

“Do you deny your guilt in this, Hadrian?” the man questioned harshly, waving his hand for silence. The murmurings all around them vanished, and the boy heard only the pounding of his own heart.

Hadrian shook his head, not trusting his mouth to form the correct words.

“Say it aloud, boy!”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “No,” he replied, closing his eyes at the whispers from the crowd behind him. There was nothing to deny, no point in it. His senses had failed him. He had failed them.

“Where were you then?” Dalian's friend asked, accusation in his voice. “Where was the hunter when we needed him?”

“I was there.”

“You lie!” the boy snarled, voice cracking. “Unless…you ran.” He continued to rant, the last of his words echoing over the crowd despite the chieftain's attempt to regain control, “You are weak! Deserter! Fled from your post like any coward would.”

“I am not a coward!”

“Then prove it!” the other boy spat, stomping one foot on the floor. “Go into the forest. Slay the monster!”

Hadrian's jaw dropped open. “You want me to kill something even the strongest of hunters cannot? How can you ask that of me?” He shook his head. “It's impossible!”

“See! His words speak for themselves!” Dalian's other friend announced, who had been mostly silent thus far. “He admits his fear!”

“You cannot be serious!” Hadrian returned, fear causing his heart to beat wildly. He didn't believe the Troblin existed in the first place, and he couldn't kill what wasn't there or something that no hunter had ever survived. Hadrian had never even seen a hunt yet, still waiting his seventeenth winter.

The surrounding crowd swelled, their cries of outrage washing over him, and he just wanted to cry, rage at his treatment. But that was not the way of their people. The chieftain's word was law, his decision absolute. Hadrian could only hope that his leader saw reason.

“Silence!” the man commanded, his voice quelling the restless mob. He lifted a clenched hand, gaze centering on the accused. “The boy has a point, and while he did not kill Dalian himself, the death is on his conscience. We cannot force him to slay the beast no hunter has ever survived.” A murmur of discontent rose from the crowd, but at a warning look, they quieted once more. “However, his courage must be redeemed, his honor restored.” The chieftain's cold eyes bored into Hadrian, a dark gleam hidden in their depths. “As such, he must survive three nights alone in the forest… or face exile.” Something flickered across his face, and a shiver crawled up Hadrian's spine. “These are your only options, boy.”

But they weren't really choices at all. Either he went into the wood of his own will, or they would force him into it. After all, those exiled were cast out into the forest with the Troblin as their new neighbor. There had only been one person exiled, a crazed elderly woman of almost centuries past. It was a story still told over the autumn bonfire.

Hadrian's heart sank. If only for a moment, he had dared to hope that the chieftain would see reason. He was no coward; he had not abandoned his post. His only crime was not being on guard enough to sense the Troblin. The chieftain's word was law, however, and Hadrian knew that he would obey. He had no other choice.

 

With a sigh, Hadrian blinked away the last of his memories and picked up his pace, still cautious but eminently more confident. Three days was not a long time, and he was well taught in wood lore. Provided he encountered no hungry bear or wolf, he dared to think that he might even survive, in spite of the eerie feeling that the forest gave him as well as the slightly malevolent aura.

After all, Hadrian did not believe in monsters.

 

He survived the first night with no sign of the beast, draped in the upper branches of a spindly tree. He nibbled on a hunk of crusty bread, the faint twisting and turning of apprehension in his stomach preventing little else. Despite his anxiety, he was beginning to believe Dalian had probably been killed by a stray wolf. He still held very little stock for the myths of his people, but in his solitude, the eerie silence of the forest unnerved him.

Where were the birds, the little creatures, the leaves crunching beneath his feet? He didn't see anything save the trees, and the only sound was his own breathing. Yet, strangely, he had the vague feeling of being watched, like hidden eyes were everywhere, and no matter how close he skirted the edge of the forest, staying near but not close enough to be seen by the other villagers, the sensation intensified. So he kept moving, reluctant to remain in one place for any length of time.

There may not have been a Troblin, but there were other, equally dangerous things in these woods.

Still, he was determined to ride out the last of his two days, determined to prove his courage, and his hand remained locked on his sword almost the entire time, fingers rubbing across the hunter's seal on the pommel, taking comfort in the ancient pattern. He shivered often, the cold belying the fact that it was high summer. His cloak did nothing to chase away the chill; yet, he clung to it all the more tightly. It was irrational perhaps, but he was just a boy, on his own for the first time, trained but untried in a place that only the hunters dared.

Suddenly, halfway through his second day, the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his senses went on high alert. He knew without really understanding why that he was not alone. Hadrian froze, eyes scanning the forest around him, but he didn't see anything. His ears strained to catch any sound, but there wasn't a murmur, not even the snap of a twig. Nothing but the wind in the trees.

Half afraid of what he would find and with one gloved hand on his sword, Hadrian slowly turned, only to find himself staring into the bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen. And they were ageless eyes, timeless and… haunted.

He gasped despite himself, jumping backwards as he shakily drew his blade, the long sword his father had gifted him on his birthday the last winter. His eyes flew to its bloodstained claws, his stomach twisting in on itself and filling with fear as he reeled backwards. He nearly tripped as his boots tumbled over a rock, his eyes raking over the hulking creature. It was over two heads taller than him and was phantom-like with its mottled and wrinkled skin.

It was real! The monster, the Troblin, was completely real!

A fetid scent washed over his senses, and Hadrian gagged. He stumbled backwards, his sword lifting of its own accord. Somehow, he swallowed down his terror, drawing up every bit of training his parents had drummed into him, but even that didn't quell the nausea in his belly. Still, he managed to hold his sword steady, taking another step and then another, his eyes never leaving the Troblin. It simply watched him in return, and he knew that it was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to sink its fangs into his flesh.

And then, there was a slight movement, just the barest hint of motion that he caught out of the corner of the eye. Perhaps the beast's arm simply twitched, or maybe it was poised to take a step forward. Either way, Hadrian couldn't be sure, but over the racing of his heart and the pounding in his ears he could only believe one thing.

He stabbed at the beast, a battle cry tearing itself from his throat as his sword flashed in the dim light of the woods, and the Troblin grunted as it twisted away. Yet, it was not quick enough to avoid the sharp metal that raked across its forearm. Blood flowed freely, hissing and festering as it splashed to the ground. Small tendrils of steam rose, a stench following in its wake, and the monster shrieked, sharp eyes turning accusingly to its attacker.

Hadrian saw fear. He saw death, and it all erupted around him.

His blade flashed through the air. He had to defend himself, had to kill this thing. It was mortal; it could bleed, and Hadrian would make it. The blood of hunters flowed through his veins, and true to his lineage, his sword twisted in his hand, weaving intricately in a deadly dance.

Hadrian swung in a fierce upper cut, determined to harm the beast further, to make it bleed. The Troblin howled as it blocked the blow with the hardened spine along the back of its upper arm. Its claw retaliated instantly, and a snarl tore itself from Hadrian's mouth, echoing the beast's cry of outrage. The young hunter rocked sideways, claws slashing through the front of his cloak but missing the tender flesh beneath.

Hadrian retracted his blade in a smooth motion, spinning on his heels as he swung with one hand, aiming for the tender flesh of the monster's ribcage. The Troblin danced out of his reach, slicing out angrily with another talon, as if trying to keep its distance.

Hadrian wrapped both hands firmly on the hilt of his sword, determined not to lose his grip as he charged at the beast, boots pounding on the hard ground. The creature was huge, its limbs unwieldy, and it couldn't move fast enough to avoid the slimmer, more nimble human. Instead, it grunted as it caught the blade in one clawed hand, blood dripping down as the sharpened metal cut through its flesh.

The young human growled in annoyance, attempting to wrench his sword from the Troblin's grasp as he aimed a well-placed kick at its leg. Bone snapped and cracked as the beast crumpled to one side, talons losing their grip on the boy's weapon, and he wrenched it away.

And that single instant was all Hadrian needed.

He drove his blade forward, sinking it all the way to the hilt. Blue eyes widened in shock then, resignation as the metal pierced the beast's chest, emerging on the other side with a spatter of gore and a sickening crunch. Time froze as the Troblin's body went stiff, its lips pulled back mid-snarl, revealing the yellowed fangs. Its limbs fell limply to its sides as it hung suspended on Hadrian's blade.

The creature's gaze turned to regard its killer with shock, and something cold bloomed in Hadrian's chest at the as he caught other emotions. Relief. Gratitude. Sorrow, strong and vibrant, too strong and vibrant. Too human. The boy couldn't even fathom them as the monster's body began to shake.

A moment passed before Hadrian realized it was not death throes but actually silent laughter, mocking laughter, and the words came then, rasped in a voice more human than beast and rough with disuse.

“Cursed by a sorceress for needless slaying, the blood of the innocent is your betraying,” the monster cackled, gurgling chuckles as its body slumped a little more, dragging down the blade Hadrian had yet to release or remove.

The boy's eyes widened in surprise as the hilt of the blade fell from his now nerveless fingers. He could only stare in shock as the Troblin crashed to the ground, gore pooling and staining the dirt beneath it.

Hadrian stumbled away in terror as the fluid seeped his direction, seeming to chase after him. A very unmanly whimper escaped his mouth as he tripped over nothing, falling to his backside, and the blood took on a life of its own, slithering up his boots and clothing like some deranged serpent. He tried to scream as it engulfed him, but it lodged in his throat as he was consumed. He flailed and beat at the liquid, pushing his body across the ground as he attempted to free himself.

The pain came then, his bones cracking and swelling, his horrified shrieks now echoing through the silent forest. He felt the earth beneath his back, twigs and rocks digging into his flesh, but it all became surreal, nightmarish as an invading cold seeped into his bones, into his very soul.

His agony was like a thousand needles stabbing into his skin, knives dancing across his brain. He screamed and writhed, scratching and scrabbling at his own skin as he fought against a foe without form or substance. A fetid smell encircled him, one of lingering death and sickness, accompanied by flashes of something, some thought, some event that did not belong to him. It echoed in his mind, infiltrating the ringing of his ears and taking over his thoughts.

Past lives. Past creatures. Past deaths. Past hunters. A sorceress with a grinning mouth stretched across her skeletal frame and haunting grey eyes, penetrating and deadly. They all flashed by too quickly for him to really comprehend, only the feelings remained, the impressions.

Suddenly, it all went still. The pain became a dull throbbing, the twitching faded entirely. His body heaved a great sigh before it collapsed against the dirt. He felt heavy, weary, beaten, and his sanity clung by a thin thread. He was still for several moments, just listening to his sharp and ragged breath. He couldn't understand what had just happened, his mind completely locked down, and it wasn't until he opened his eyes that he realized they had been closed or that he was now looking at a different world.

No, it was the same, still the forest, but he saw through different eyes. Everything was in much sharper clarity than before. His nose twitched, and he smelled the deep, earthy fragrance of the woods, but underneath it all, there was a scent of death. His stomach immediately rolled, and he turned without thought, vomiting into the fallen leaves and emptying his belly of all contents, little though they were.

Once he was purged, he felt minutely better, but his head still swam. Confused and groggy with lingering twinges of pain, Hadrian stumbled to his feet, briefly wondering why his limbs weren't cooperating and why he felt so heavy, weighted down. He couldn't even stand up straight, but he only idly noticed this as his gaze swept over the forest. He raised a trembling hand to brush his hair out of eyes, only to freeze in complete shock, gaping down. In place of his hands, he now had taloned paws that were grey and molted.

He gasped, taking an uncertain step backwards only to feel his bare feet step into something spongy and moist. He recoiled instantly, whirling around only to stare at the body of a slightly decomposed human at his feet, his sword lodged into the man's chest. And he was in the exact spot the Troblin should have lain.

Yet, when the boy's eyes saw his distorted reflection in the blade's surface, everything came to light with startling clarity.

Hadrian's world shattered. He was the monster!

A cry of anguish ripped from his throat, permeating through the entire area and threatening to shake the forest on its very foundation. With an angry snarl, his talons lashed out at a nearby tree. He howled again, and the sound echoed all around him, sharing his grief and rage, and in the nearby village, the people trembled.

Why? What had he done to deserve such a fate?

The words of the creature reverberated in his mind, the chilling cackle something he would never be able to forget.

Cursed. Innocent blood. Betrayed. The flashes of memories made ragged sense, and warmth trickled down his face, the tears of the damned.

He could never go home now. He had no home, no family. He was a monster, a thing of the shadow, an abomination. He was doomed to wander until his death came to claim him, and he knew now, knew that the monster had been innocent. The blood on its claws wasn't Dalian's at all. Hadrian had killed the blameless, and this body was his punishment, his just due. He was a murderer, slayer of innocents. He was no better than the supposed Troblin.

In a final display of his anguish, his claws raked down the bark of the tree one last time as he howled out his grief, leaving the mark of his passage behind him. He left his sword behind and stormed off into the eerie silence of the forest, his heart heavy and his soul weary.

Nothing could or would ever be the same again.

For years he wandered, making his home in the never changing forest. He came to learn it more intimately than any lover, knowing every rock and tree. The gulleys were his paths, the trees his only companions. Occasionally, he heard the whisper of human voices, but the reminder of what he had once been was a knife to the chest, more painful than anything imaginable. But he still couldn't help but watch them from afar.

He seemed ageless, unwilling to die unless by the hands of another, but still, he mourned his lost life, hating every moment of new existence. He didn't sleep, instead roaming in an endless nightmare, not even finding escape in his dreams. And at first, he had raged at the unfairness of it all, but eventually, even that left him.

He was hollow now. Empty. Just waiting for someone to end it all, and a little more of his humanity faded with each year. His family and his friends withered and died, and still, his village continued on, surrounded always by Hadrian's forest. And one day, he finally stumbled upon the truth, one that destroyed what little of him remained.

He followed the bitter trail of fresh blood to the edge of his woods, but he was still too late to save her, too late to do anything but watch the men continue to brutalize her already ravaged body. Hadrian could only stare in horror as the two jeered and smirked, leaving her in a puddle of her own blood. They kicked at her as they sauntered away, tucking away their daggers, the hunter's seal prominent on the sheaths.

Her sightless, green eyes gazed up at Hadrian as he gently closed her eyelids with a taloned finger, the hollowness inside preventing him from being able to shed a tear. The tranquility of his forest was shattered now, and it was only a matter of time before they came for him.

He was the Troblin, and everyone would know that he was to blame.

After all, the Troblin was a monster. The people in the village were not.

He knew when the next hunter stepped into the forest from the moment her booted feet passed beyond the tree line. The woods were his home, his domain, and he knew that the huntress had come for one purpose and one purpose alone.

She wanted to start the cycle of death over again. The huntress had come for him.