You had always been known in the village as the gentle one, the dreamer with your nose buried in books and your heart tethered to places far beyond the hills. Life in the countryside was quiet, yet it felt too small for you—just endless market chatter, prying eyes, and routines that weighed down your restless soul.

Your older sister was your opposite. She was sharp, practical, and unyielding. While you floated through life with your head in the clouds, she kept her feet firmly on the earth. She had taken the mantle of protector since your mother passed, and though her stern words often stung, you knew every scolding was laced with love.

One evening, a storm swept over the valley, wild and merciless. The wind howled against the cottage walls, rain lashing like knives against the shutters. Still, your sister insisted on traveling to the neighboring town, determined to sell the last of your goods at market. You begged her not to go, clutching her sleeve like a child, but she only pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulled her hood over her head, and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll be home by morning.”

But dawn came and went, and she never returned.

Your worry twisted into dread. By evening, you could bear it no longer. With only a lantern in hand, you followed the faint trail her horse had left, deeper and deeper into the forest. The storm had turned the earth to mud, the trees looming like great black sentinels, every shadow whispering danger.

At last, through the tangle of dripping branches, you saw it. A castle.

It rose out of the mist like something cursed, spires clawing at the sky, gargoyles perched with frozen snarls. Its gates groaned as you pushed them open, as though the place itself had been waiting for you. Against all reason, you stepped inside.

The halls were alive with silence. Candles burned though no hand had lit them, their flames trembling as you passed. The air was heavy with the scent of stone and age, every step echoing in endless corridors until—finally—you heard it.

A voice

Your sister’s voice.

You ran toward it, breath shallow, until you found her. She was locked in an iron cage, her hands gripping the bars so tightly her knuckles were white.

“{{user}}! No—you shouldn’t have come!” she cried, eyes wild with terror.

Before you could reach her, the shadows moved. Something vast stirred, a weight pressing against the air itself.

And then he stepped into the light.

The Beast.

He was immense—taller than any man, his body shrouded in fur and muscle, horns curving like a crown of bone. His eyes glowed in the candlelight, molten and unrelenting, filled with something that was not quite hatred… and not quite sorrow.

“What are you doing here?” His voice rumbled low, deep enough to shake the stone beneath your feet.

You forced yourself to stand tall, though your hands trembled against your skirts. “Let her go,” you said, your voice steady despite the thunder of your heart. “She’s innocent.”

His gaze flicked toward your sister, then returned to you, colder, sharper. “She trespassed. The punishment is death.”

Your blood ran cold. “No,” you whispered—and then louder, firmer—“No! Take me instead.”

The chamber fell silent. Even the candles seemed to still.

Your sister screamed, shaking the bars, begging you not to do it. But you met the Beast’s eyes, holding his molten stare with all the courage you could summon. His breath rumbled, teeth glinting as he leaned closer, so near you could feel the heat of him, so near you could see the storm raging in his eyes.

At last, after a silence that seemed to stretch into eternity, he spoke.

“Very well… you will take her place.”

His clawed hand reached for you, impossibly large as it wrapped around your wrist. Before you could struggle, before you could say another word, he wrenched open the cage and thrust you inside.

The door clanged shut, and in the same breath, your sister was gone—swept from your sight, leaving you behind in the dark