What Monsters Look Like

I dreamt of home. Not the grand halls. Not noble banquets. Not my father's political dinners. I dreamt of something smaller. My mother sitting beside the garden fountain at dusk. Bare feet touching the water. Reading quietly while fireflies floated above the hedges.

When I was younger, I used to hide behind the statues and steal the honey cakes she kept beside her tea. She always pretended not to notice. Always. Even when crumbs covered my face. Even when I was terrible at lying.

She would simply smile and say.

"One day your greed will make you suffer, Alfar."

I used to laugh when she said it. Then someone kicked my ribs. And I awoke screaming. The dream shattered. Reality returned. Cold. Pain. Darkness.

My closet room smelled of mildew and old blood. My broken finger pulsed inside its splint. My shoulders screamed from scrubbing the Rain Hall floors.

My stomach twisted from the small meal I had been given before collapsing. I barely remembered eating. A bowl of venison stew. Hard bread. A cup of bitter herbal water. Then sleep had claimed me like drowning.

I vaguely remembered waking once in the night. Hands dragging me from the mattress. Laughter. Not drunken this time. Almost ceremonial. A ring of female Rangers standing around me in the courtyard beneath moonlight. My arms tied. My knees forced into wet dirt. One by one they struck me. Not hard enough to cripple. Not soft enough to ignore. Open palms. Wooden rods. Whips. A ritual. Each woman stepped forward. Delivered one strike. Then stepped back. No screaming. No chaos. Only discipline.

One of them whispered into my ear afterward.

"Pain shared is loyalty remembered."

Then darkness again.

And now..morning. And another boot in my ribs. I groaned.

"Please…"

"Pathetic."

That voice. Cold. Controlled. Female. I opened swollen eyes. Hannah stood above me. Golden hair tied back for training. White and red armor gleaming in faint morning light. She looked immaculate. I looked like something dug from a grave.

"You drool when you sleep."

I stared at her.

"…what?"

She tossed a bucket of freezing water onto me. I convulsed. The cold punched the breath from my lungs.

"You have one minute."

"For what?"

She smiled. That smile always made things worse.

"To embarrass yourself publicly."

The Silent Yard was already full. Hundreds of Rangers surrounded the massive northern training grounds. Watching. Waiting. Betting. I could hear coins exchanging hands. Wonderful. I had become gambling entertainment.

The training grounds themselves were enormous. Mud arenas with patches of frost clusters. Archery towers. Weapon racks. Execution platforms. Burn pits. Massive beast cages. And at the center. Me. Half-dead. Barely standing. Holding a wooden sword.

Hannah stood beside me like judgment made flesh. She raised one hand. The crowd quieted immediately. That terrified me more than shouting.

"Meet my leadership."

One by one they stepped forward.

"Virelyn Shadebloom. The Shadow Captain." Built like war itself. White hair. Scarred skin. Eyes full of contempt. She looked at me like weak meat.

"Caeleira Duskfall. The Bow Captain." Beautiful. Silent. Moonlit eyes. She looked as though she could shoot my heartbeat from my chest.

Shaedra Nyxthorn. The Blade Captain." If sadism wore a face, it's her. Golden skin with tattoos scarred in spiral patterns.

'Thalara Vintshade. The Chef." Her pale hands were stained red. I suddenly did not want to know what was in breakfast stew.

"Syrel Thorneheart. The Medic." She waved her bone needle at me cheerfully. Monster.

"The Twins. Rellien and Vessa." They smiled at exactly the same time. I nearly vomited.

Then…

"Solenyra Gravespine. The High-Warden." Even standing still, she felt larger than everyone. Her single glowing eye settled on me.

"My second Anthuriun, is… hunting."

Her voice dropped.

"You should pray she returns in a merciful mood."

That did not sound promising.

Hannah tossed me a wooden blade. It hit my chest and fell into the mud.

"Fight me."

I laughed. Not because it was funny. Because my mind broke briefly.

"You cannot be serious."

She moved. Pain exploded across my face. The wooden sword struck my jaw so hard I spun sideways. Blood hit the dirt. The crowd roared. I stumbled upright. She hit me again. And again. And again. Every strike is precise. Never wasted. My wrist. My ribs. My knee. My shoulder.

I swung wildly. Missed every time. She moved like cold water. Beautiful. Precise. Cruel. I fell. Rose. Fell again. At one point I crawled toward my sword through mud while the crowd laughed so hard some could barely breathe.

By the end, I could no longer lift my arms. Hannah pressed her wooden blade beneath my chin.

"Your family sent me silk."

She leaned closer.

"I prefer steel."

Then she stepped away.

"Shaedra."

The crowd erupted. And then she entered. Shaedra Nyxthorn looked like violence given a body. Golden skin. Tattooed arms. Twin curved blades. A smile too joyful for someone holding weapons. She bowed dramatically.

"High-Captain."

Hannah gestured.

"Show him."

Six Rangers dragged in a chained ogre. Massive. Foaming. Screaming. Its wrists were bound in iron. Its face covered in scars. It looked at the Rangers with pure hatred. Then it looked at me. And somehow I understood that feeling.

The chains dropped. The ogre charged. Shaedra laughed. Not nervous laughter. Not battle rage. Joy. Pure joy. She moved. The ogre screamed. Its tendons opened first. Then its eyes. Then its stomach.

She danced around it while it bled. Sometimes stepping back simply to watch it panic. She could have killed it immediately. She chose not to. The crowd screamed her name.

The ogre collapsed. Begging. Crying. Trying to crawl. Shaedra crouched beside it and gently stroked its face. Then slit its throat.

Silence.

Blood pooled into the dirt. My stomach turned. Shaedra slowly looked at me. Blood dripping from her blades. Waiting.

And because my mouth is apparently possessed by suicidal spirits..I whispered..

"You're not a warrior…"

Her smile widened.

"…you're a wild beast."

Silence swallowed the yard. Every Ranger turned toward me. Shaedra tilted her head. Then began laughing. Slowly. Softly. That somehow felt worse than anger. She pointed one bloody blade at me.

"Oh…"

Her smile sharpened.

"I'm going to enjoy you."

The Rangers erupted into laughter, and yelled out:

"Take his teeth!"

"Break his knees!"

"Feed him to the beast pits!"

My legs gave out beneath me. Mud swallowed my knees.

Shaedra crouched before me. Far too close. Her golden skin was splattered with blood. Her tattooed arms flexed as she tilted my chin upward with her blade.

"You know what I do to little noble princes?"

"But I'm not a pri.."

Her smile sharpened.

"I tame them."

Then..

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

A war horn split the air. Deep. Violent. Ancient. Another horn answered from afar. Then bells began ringing violently across Crimson Vale. The entire training yard froze. Every Ranger turned toward the eastern walls.

A scout sprinted into the field, covered in blood and mud. She dropped to one knee before Hannah.

"High-Captain!"

She gasped for breath.

"Eastern wall breach attempt."

Hannah's face hardened.

"Who?"

"Large Beast Troll raiding party."

The atmosphere changed instantly. Mockery vanished. Now they looked like soldiers again. Real ones. Archers moved. Mounted Rangers ran for their horses. Blade units armed themselves. The scout swallowed.

"Thirty confirmed, led by Troll-Lord."

She hesitated.

"Possibly more."

Hannah turned cold.

"Shaedra."

The blade leader grinned.

"Kill them."

Shaedra looked at me one final time. Her smile was almost affectionate. Which somehow made it worse.

"See you tonight, little prince."

Then she and her squad sprinted toward the eastern gate. And that should have been the end of my suffering for the day. Naturally. It wasn't.

Seconds later, the great northern gate, "Icetear Gate".. Opened. Massive wooden doors groaned apart. Several mounted Rangers entered the camp. Silent. Disciplined. Their armor was dusted with frost.

At their center rode a woman dressed in blackened silver armor and crimson cloth. She dismounted slowly. And the entire courtyard changed. Veteran Rangers straightened. Conversations stopped. Even the loudest soldiers lowered their voices.

She was tall. Elegant. Terrifyingly composed. Long raven-black hair fell straight down her back like spilled ink. Her face was beautiful in the way winter lakes looked beautiful. Still. Cold. And dangerous if you stepped too far. Her green eyes moved across the training grounds.

The dead ogre. The blood. The broken weapons. Then finally..me. Half kneeling in mud. Covered in bruises. Breathing like a dying animal. Her expression didn't change. Which somehow felt worse than laughter.

She approached Hannah. The two women stared at one another for a moment. Something passed between them. Respect. Shared grief. Unspoken history. Then the black-haired woman finally spoke. Her voice was calm.

"I leave for one mission…"

Her eyes drifted toward me again.

"…and you acquire this."

Several Rangers laughed nervously.

Hannah folded her arms.

"He's the treaty brat."

The woman studied me longer. I wished she wouldn't. I felt like prey being inspected by a panther that hadn't yet decided if it was hungry.

"And fragile too."

I attempted to stand. Immediately failed. Wonderful. Her eyebrow lifted slightly. That tiny reaction somehow humiliated me more than Shaedra's words ever had. I forced out the words.

"Who…are you?"

Several nearby Rangers looked horrified that I had spoken. The woman stared at me. Then, unexpectedly…she smiled. It wasn't warm. It wasn't cruel. It was simply amused.

"Anthuriun Icetear."

She stepped closer.

"Hannariel's niece."

My stomach dropped. Of course. Because apparently one terrifying Icetear woman was not enough for my miserable existence.

Anthuriun leaned slightly closer. Her voice lowered.

"I heard you called Shaedra a wild beast."

I said nothing. Her smile widened.

"That was very brave."

A pause.

"Or very stupid."

Another horn echoed from the eastern walls. Anthuriun turned calmly toward the chaos. Then looked back at me one final time. And for the first time all day..I met an elf whose cruelty seemed quieter. More intelligent. And somehow far more dangerous.

"I think I'll keep an eye on you, little human."

And somehow…that felt like the worst news I had received all week. Which was impressive. Because my week had been catastrophic.