Years ago, the king had invited Alasdair and his family to an event in the capitol. The carriage ride would be long, but the image of his wife with Theresa, then only 2 years old, sitting on her lap was one he could have looked at forever. But that night was the las time he would ever see it.

The carriage shook with such force that Alasdair was unable to react when a spindly, withered hand shattered the window. It felt around for a moment before taking a fistful of his wife’s coat and yanking her from her seat. He reached out for the woman he loved, only to have her shove Theresa into his arms.

“Keep her safe, my love I-” The last words she uttered were cut short as she was wrenched the rest of the way through the carriage window with a horrific crunch. Alasdair shielded Theresa against his chest instinctively, but stood frozen in horror as he watched the horned abomination disappear into the forest, the body of his beloved being dragged unceremoniously behind.

On the one hand, he was relieved that Theresa didn’t remember that night or grow to fear the forest because of it. Though on the other, maybe a bit of fear would do her some good. It would save him the pit in his stomach on the occasions she’d do something reckless.

In his grief he’d buried himself in his work, and perhaps in the process his daughter had felt neglected. Maybe that was why she’d turned to the woods for company.

Alasdair heard voices up ahead and he gripped his sword tighter as he approached. He could make out one distinctly as his daughter’s, giggling and happily chatting away like usual. But the other voice made his stomach lurch. That voice’s owner was long dead.

He came across a clearing. His footsteps gave him away and the voices stopped as his eyes landed on their source. His daughter, safe and sound, in the lap of what was nothing short of a monster. A hideous twisted creature, one all too familiar to him with spindly withered hands and large pointed antlers.

“Theresa, get away from that thing. Come home, sweetheart, please."