...

After getting Jordan to calm down, Gerard, in an attempt to get him to stay, started to tell them about a French soldier who had seen something supernatural during the war and about a letter he had written to his sister. "That letter would eventually find it's way into the hands of a young woman. A skilled hunter who would later face the Beast armed with nothing more than a steel-tipped pike. She would be known by history as the Maid of Gévaudan. But her real name was Marie-Jeanne." He had gotten a book and opened it to a page that showed a picture of a statue of a woman defending herself with a pike against a large wolf.

"Maybe someone should resurrect her." Jordan said before heading for the door.

"Don't leave." Lydia called, making him turn to face her.

"My dreams aren't like yours, Lydia. I'm not just a harbinger of death. I'm the cause of it." This time he did leave, but Lydia and Y/n were prepared to follow him until Gerard stopped them.

"Let him go."

"Why?" Y/n asked, tone sharp and eyes hard as she faced the older man.

"Because as much as we believe Parrish could take on the Beast," Chris started, "neither of us think he's our only hope at stopping it."

"What do you mean?" Lydia wondered.

"We think there's another."

"You." They convinced her to stay and listen to what they had to say and Y/n stayed with her, not wanting to leave her alone with the white-haired serpent. Gerard gave Lydia the book he had shown Jordan and she looked it over. But after a while she sighed and closed it, turning to get Y/n and leave when Gerard walked in her path and started speaking.

"Marie-Jeanne was a lot like you, Lydia. Skeptical of her own abilities. And once, actually, just as skeptical of the supernatural."

...

People chatter amongst themselves in a small tavern, laughing, drinking and eating together in cozy candlelight and trying to keep out of the snow outside. The barman, Rene, was holding a poster, a warning of a creature called La béte, up to one of the wooden posts and was preparing to nail it to the wood when a bolt did it for him. He turned back to smile at the brunette who was wielding the crossbow it came from, brown eyes twinkling in amusement as she smirked in return. "Merci, Marie-Jeanne." Marie-Jeanne returns to rereading the letter from her brother for what seemed like the thousandth time.

The barmaid notices Marie-Jeanne's knit brow, a tell that showed the woman was more worried than she let on. Grabbing a jar of wine she went over to the table and filled up Marie Jeanne's glass before taking a seat across from her. Reaching up she held Marie-Jeanne's hand and gave her a kind smile. "Don't worry so much, Marie. Sebastien is too stubborn to die in a war, you know this." Marie-Jeanne let an amused smile grace her features as she looked to the h/c haired woman.

"I know, Ophelia. But being stubborn won't always save him."

"He is still alive. I feel it in my heart." Marie-Jeanne only nodded. Ophelia has always seemed to have a strong instinct about things, and so she always trusted the woman she called sister. Giving one more pat to her hand, Ophelia stood up and went towards the back of the room to fill up emptying cups while Rene did the same towards the front. A little girl of three years waddles towards Marie-Jeanne, and the woman smiled as she sat the girl on the bench next to her.

"Her name was Agnes." Bernard spoke as Rene filled the cups at his table. "She was 11 years old. Eleven. Torn limb from limb. There wasn't enough of her left for a proper burial."

"I am well aware." Tolbert responds. "I'm also aware that every new report conflicts with the last. Some say it is part hyena, part wolf. Uh, it has red fur, black fur, uh, cloven hooves, a stripe down it's back." Tolbert shrugs. Marie-Jeanne listens in while she peels an apple with a knife, cutting small pieces and feeding it to the child.

"We know it kills at night." Rene chimes in on the conversation. "It targets the head and neck. This we know for sure."

"It won't stop." Bernard claims. "Where the wolf finds a lamb there he seeks another."

"But it never eats its victims. It kills for sport."

"No animal kills for sport." Tolbert denies.

"This is no animal." Bernard insists.

"Tell that to the King. I have word he may send a contingent of his own professional hunters. Until then, we can use volunteers for a hunting party. Especially someone to lead it."

Two men had entered the tavern as Tolbert started speaking, shaking the snow from their coats as they listened, but now one spoke. "Why ask for a volunteer? We all know who the best hunter is in Gévaudan." Marie-Jeanne freezes in shock from the familiar voice before she turned to see Sebastien, alive and well smiling at her. "Marie-Jeanne Valet. My sister."

"Bastard!" Marie-Jeanne exclaims with a beaming smile, jumping from her seat and running to hug her brother, laughing in joy that he was back home. When she pulled away she turned her sights to the man beside him. "Marcel, you are home." She gave him a hug as well while Sebastien looked towards the back of the bar, spotting Ophelia with teary eyes and a smile that rivaled the sun. "Viens, viens, Sebastien." Marie-Jeanne grabbed her brothers hand and pulled him towards the woman who waited her turn patiently.

Ophelia threw her arms around Sebastien's shoulders much like Marie-Jeanne had, but he was quick to pull away and press a long-awaited kiss to her lips. "My Ophelia." He whispered, looking into the e/c eyes he had missed.

"There is someone I want you to meet." She said, turning out of his arms and holding her hand out towards the little girl who had been sitting with Marie-Jeanne a bit ago. "Viens, Amelie. Viens." She called, and the little girl, Amelie, obeyed, carefully pushing herself off of the bench and waddling to her waiting mother. Ophelia picked up the girl and held her on her hip, turning so Sebastien could look at her properly.

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the h/c hair that sat in perfect waves on her head, and brown eyes that mirrored his exactly. "Is this...?" He looked in slight wonder of the small child.

Ophelia nodded. "Your daughter." It was only after Sebastien had left for the war did Ophelia find out she was expecting, and had raised their daughter by herself with the aid of Marie Jeanne, and her good friend Henri.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Marie-Jeanne praised as she held Amelie's hand.

"She is. Just like her mother." Sebastien smiled at his wife. He reached up to stroke Amelie's hair, not being deterred as the girl shyed away from his touch with a tiny whine. Ophelia was a little surprised at the action because Amelie had never been shy before, but maybe it was because Sebastien was so new. Ophelia brushed it off, just wanting to enjoy her family finally being whole again.

"Good to have you back, Marcel." Rene greeted as he walked up to the man and handed him the key to the cellar.

"Don't worry, my friend. You still have a job." Marcel patted him on the shoulder as Rene chuckled.

Tolbert stood to face the reunited family, beginning to speak to Marie-Jeanne and made them turn to him. "I am not going to argue with your brother, Marie-Jeanne. What do you say?"

Bernard began to chant her name, causing the other patrons to join as well. "Marie-Jeanne! Marie-Jeanne! Marie-Jeanne! Marie-Jeanne! Marie-Jeanne!"

She looked around at them all. "Well?" Sebastien asked. "Will you heed their call?"

"I hunt animals. Not rumors." Everyone laughed at her claim. But the jovial mood was soon doused as the tavern door was kicked open, Henri walking in with a small, unmoving body in his arms. A few gasped at the sight while the rest were deadly quiet. Tolbert and the others at his table moved things off of it's surface so Henri could lay the young boy down on it.

"Emile?" Rene slowly approached, unable to believe what he was seeing. His breathing picked up as he started to cry, his voice shaking as he called the boy's name again. "Emile? Mon Dieu, my son." He knelt next to the table and held onto his son's body. "Emile." Ophelia held Amelie's head to her shoulder to shield her from the sight as she cried for the father, Marie-Jeanne's eyes closed as she shed tears of her own at the loss.

"I found him in the woods." Henri said. "He whispered his last words to me."

"What were they?" Tolbert asked.

"La Bête. The Beast."

"Monsieur Tolbert," Marie-Jeanne called, "I do not know what creature did this. But the hunting party leaves at dawn."

...

"Why didn't he warn her?" Lydia wondered.

"He told her about everything that they'd seen during the war. But like I said, Marie-Jeanne was a skeptic."

The men who volunteered for the hunting party checked their weapons, making sure they were in the best possible condition while Marie-Jeanne sharpened her bolts, Marcel and Sebastien watching from nearby. "You believe it?" She asked her brother, shaking her head with an amused smile. "I never knew you were so superstitious. Have Ophelia's habits finally rubbed off on you?"

"I don't need to believe in something I saw with my own eyes."

She gave him a look while she checked the bolt she was working on. "And I have been through every inch of these woods and hunted just about every creature under the sun."

"But not the moon." Marcel pointed out.

She gave them an unamused grin. "Are you trying to frighten me?"

"I'm trying to warn you." Sebastien claimed as he walked closer, and she looked at him as if to tell him to get on with it. He examined one of the bolts. "You're gonna need more than ordinary steel to stop the Beast." He set the bolt down and left, Marcel following after looking at Marie-Jeanne for a moment longer.

Pretty soon the party was ready, and they all exited the building. Marie-Jeanne paused for a moment, fixing her cloak. She looked over when she heard a lock clicking and saw Marcel as he locked up the tavern's cellar. He gave her a wave when he saw her, the woman giving a small smile in return before he entered the building. She then put the hood over her head, a look of determination on her features as she followed the men, all headed for the woods.

"They searched from dawn till dusk, hoping to find the Beast where it slept. But they knew they'd most likely only encounter it at nightfall. It was just after midnight when the first torch went out."

Marie-Jeanne and the other members of the party carefully walked over the snowy ground, torchlight and the faint moon light the only things to light their path, but it was not enough to see when the Beast would attack. There was a roar followed by a man's scream, a torch falling and being doused in the cold, white powder. Marie-Jeanne let her hood fall as she looked around with crossbow drawn, spotting another light go out and the call of her name. She followed another man as they went to investigate, but his light went out too. She was left alone in the dark, senses on alert as screams and growls echoed between the trees.

She fired off a bolt everytime she thought it was in her sights, but it was moving too quickly for any of them to land. But after a few more shots, one did manage to graze it's shoulder. As she pursued it, the Beast surprised her by swiping it's large claws and catching her in the leg. She yelled out in pain, her weapon falling to the ground as she was forced to limp away. She heard a sound behind her and she pulled out her dagger to defend herself, still panting from the pain and trying to slowly back up. It slowly emerged from the shadows and she was finally able to see it in all of it's horrific, blue-eyed glory.

It growled and lunged for her, and just when it seemed she was out of luck, Henri came rushing past the trees and towards her. "Get down!" He ordered, and he threw his arm around her protectively while the other emptied a bottle of black powder into the air, forming a circle around them. The Beast bounced off of an invisible barrier, and tried pushing against it in anger, but the barrier would not budge. The two had fallen back into the snow, and when they looked up again, the Beast was gone.

"That- that was no wolf!" Marie-Jeanne exclaimed as Henri stood up.

"Of course not, you fool." He shook his head as helped her stand. "It was a werewolf."

...

Lydia tilted on her feet for a moment, Chris steading her as he looked at her in concern. "Lydia?"

"Something's happening." She informed as he helped her lean against a table to recover.

"Now?" He glances at Y/n and sees her eyes shine for a moment as she mutters almost to herself, but still loud enough for them to hear.

"La Bête chasse." He frowned in confusion at her words, especially at the way her voice sounded. Almost older in tone.

"Something's wrong. We can't stay here." Lydia said, about ready to grab Y/n's hand to leave when Gerard spoke up.

"You should hear the rest of the story."

"Why should we be listening to you?"

"He knows it better than any of us." Chris insisted, only for Y/n to shake her head.

"He's missing details."

"How do you know?"

"I have my own family history." Gerard's eyes narrowed at her, yet it didn't faze her. "But no matter how much you memorize a story, that's all it is. A story. You didn't live it. It helps to hear it from someone who did."

"And you happen to know someone who has lived for such a time?" Gerard asked.

She nodded. "I do. Because the Dread Doctors shoved her soul inside of me."

"Her soul?" Chris repeated. "Who's soul?"

Y/n's demeanor changed as she stood straighter, her chin tilted up in pride as she turned to face the others. When she spoke again, it wasn't Y/n's voice. "My name is Ophelia Beausoliel."

"So you were alive when the Beast was born?" Ophelia nodded to Gerard's question. "That doesn't explain how you would know more than my own family."

"Because when I died, I was known as Ophelia Valet. It's my family as well."

"What happened next?" Lydia asked, more interested in what Ophelia herself had to say rather than Gerard.

...

"Henri brought Marie-Jeanne to his home. It was the safest place at the time because it was protected by a circle of mountain ash trees, and a few charms of my own making."

Ophelia had been taking refuge with Amelie in Henri's home, the only place she knew was safe against the Beast. She had left Sebastien sleeping in their home, leaving a note saying she was helping a friend gather plants for his practice. Henri had been a great friend to Ophelia ever since he discovered the supernatural and her own nature, being one of the rare few who weren't afraid of her. Ever since the Beast started getting closer to Gévaudan he had opened his home to her and her daughter, both of them helping to protect each other from the new danger. Ophelia was forever grateful to him, especially since he helped calm Amelie down when she woke up with nightmares, a recent development that Ophelia had no idea where it came from.

Amelie had started crying again, but this time she had been awake and started balling out of nowhere. Ophelia was trying to calm her again when the door to Henri's home burst open and the man himself was helping a wounded Marie-Jeanne into the space. "What happened out there?" Ophelia asked, but she already had an inkling.

"It was La Bête. It killed everyone." Henri informed as Ophelia got up to lead Marie-Jeanne to a stool.

Amelie kept crying and Ophelia gave a pleading look to Henri. "Can you please settle her. I'll take care of Marie-Jeanne." He nodded and went over to the little girl while Ophelia got a better look at the slash on Marie-Jeanne's thigh. It was fairly deep, but also not life threatening. But the best way for Ophelia to treat it would be to heal it, and that meant revealing herself. "I can heal you, Marie, but that means you are going to see something very shocking."

"I was attacked by a werewolf, I doubt anything could be more shocking."

"I hope that's true." Before Marie-Jeanne could say any more, her eyes widened when she saw Ophelia's own begin to change color and glow a gentle violet. Ophelia reached towards Marie Jeanne's leg, pausing a moment when she flinched back. Ophelia persisted and Marie-Jeanne relaxed just slightly when her hand only hovered over the wound. Marie-Jeanne watched in amazement as the gash gradually closed, leaving barely a trace of the injury aside from the blood that still had to be cleaned.

"What are you?" Marie-Jeanne asked as soon as Ophelia's eyes dimmed back to their usual e/c.

"I am a witch. Please, don't be afraid of me. I am different than you, yes, but I am still the same Ophelia that you've known. This is just... Another part of me."

"Is she a witch as well?" Marie-Jeanne glanced to the now calmed child as Henri smiled down at the young girl.

Ophelia nodded. "Yes."

Marie-Jeanne was silent for a while, seemingly deep in thought, but eventually she looked to Ophelia with a little smile. "I guess you are not very superstitious after all."

Ophelia huffed a laugh. "Not very." After Marie-Jeanne was taken care of Ophelia had gone out into the woods, saying she was going to see if anyone had survived by chance. But after a while of searching, all she found were bodies lying in the snow.

While Ophelia was gone, and after she got the blood cleaned off of her, Marie-Jeanne started to examine the different plants and materials Henri had scattered around his home. She was now looking over a bottle of the black powder she had seen Henri use earlier. "What is this?"

"Mountain ash." He answered as he took the bottle from her and put it in it's proper place with the others.

She spotted a small wooden bowl, reaching over and craning her neck to peak inside. "And that?"

"Mistletoe. Please, put that down." He reached over and grabbed the bowl from her.

She glanced around at all of the different items again. "Why do you have all of this?"

"To protect myself. I have spent," he breathed in sharply as he thought, "half a lifetime gathering the impliments and skills to survive a werewolf. A great deal I learned from Ophelia. We can teach you if you want to know."

She thought about it for a moment before she stood up, having no difficulty thanks to Ophelia healing her. "I do not care about surviving one. I want to know how to kill one."

...

"Even if she learned every trick there was to killing a werewolf, Marie-Jeanne knew it would mean nothing if she didn't have an advantage. She needed to know her adversary."

In the tavern Marie-Jeanne and Ophelia place down the jugs of mistletoe laced wine on tables while the hunter spoke. "To honor the dead. I expect everyone to drink." Sebastien got up from his seat and helped the women as they went around the room and filled everyone's cups with the liquid.

"Merci." Tolbert thanked as Ophelia filled up his glass, and she gave him a smile in return.

When all the glasses were filled, and when Ophelia had gotten a glass of untainted wine for herself, Sebastien raised his glass. "To the dead."

"To the dead!" Everyone chorused, raising their cups for a moment before everyone drank. Tolbert grimaces at the bitter taste while Ophelia and Marie-Jeanne look at everyone carefully, trying to catch any change in anyone. Marcel sipped at his drink, but paused when he saw a few white berries resting at the bottom of the cup.

Glass shattering catches the women's attention and they look to see Marcel had cut his hand on his cup that had broken in his grip. "Marcel." Sebastien calls in worry, but Marie-Jeanne was quick to assure him.

"I have got him. Come, Marcel. Out to the well." Marie-Jeanne led the man out of the tavern and to the well just outside. Pulling on the rope to raise the bucket she grabbed the laddle sitting inside, letting the bucket go as she poured the water over his wound. He winced slightly from the sting. "Do you have any cloth? Something to wrap your hand?"

"Yes. In the cellar." He grabbed a key from his waist and held it up to her. "You'll find what you're looking for in the cellar." Something about the way he said it had put her on edge, but she still took the small object and went around the tavern to the cellar doors. She unlocked the padlock, tucking the key away and pulling open the doors. The hinges creaked as they were opened, Marie-Jeanne glancing around for a moment before she stepped into the darkness, the doors closing behind her. She held the lit lamp up in front of her, the firelight guiding her way down the steps, but when she got to the bottom, she gasped in horror at the sight she had found. Dozens of bodies covered in frost, staring with lifeless eyes in frozen terror. Marcel waited by the well for her to return, looking up at her when the tip of her loaded crossbow was under his chin. "Go ahead." He spoke quietly. "Release the arrow." But all she did was look at him. "Do it, Marie-Jeanne." He took a few steps forward prompting her own steps back. "Go ahead. Let the arrow fly. Release it, Marie-Jeanne. Please. Release me." He reached for her crossbow, but she moved it to the side just as the trigger was pulled. That's when she finally noticed the blood still dripping from his hand.

"You're not the killer." She realized. "You're covering for him."

"Marcel!" A voice yelled and suddenly the man was being pinned to the side of the well by fists twisted into his coat, Ophelia staring up at him with broken eyes. "What happened to him out there? What did he do?" She questioned desperately.

"He drank from a wolf's print." He admitted.

She thought she couldn't be any more surprised that night, turns out she was wrong. After Marcel had broken the glass and Marie-Jeanne took him out to treat it, Ophelia had gone about her normal duties, still watching and waiting. But she didn't need to wait long. Coughing had caught her attention, and she turned to see Sebastien sitting his cup down and backing away, seemingly almost struggling to breathe as he tugged at his collar. She started to head towards him to help with whatever was happening, only to freeze in place when his eyes shone blue. He grimaced, fangs showing for a moment as a small, strangled roar escaped his lips before he made it out the side door and away from prying eyes.

Ophelia's breath stuttered in shock, sight becoming blurred as her mind struggled with the horrible truth. La Bête was none other than Sebastien Valet, her husband. How could she have been so blind? How could he have hidden it so well from her? But, no, it wasn't blindness that kept his secret, it was that she didn't want to see. Ever since he came home she could sense something was different about him, yet instead of prying deeper, she wrote it off as the effects of war. She even ignored her daughter's cries of discomfort when he was near, ignoring the young witch's unjaded senses. She could ignore it no longer.

With a grunt of anger she threw him to the snow-covered ground. "You were supposed to take care of each other! You were supposed to protect him!" She yelled.

"Forgive me, Ophelia. Forgive me." Marcel begged as he looked up at her, not bothering to hide the shame he felt at being unable to keep the promise he had made his best friend's wife. Ophelia dropped to her knees as she let out a sob, clutching her hands to her heart as she felt it break. She now knew that the man she loved was dead, only leaving a shell behind for evil to occupy.

"Marie-Jeanne confronted her brother the moment she walked back into the tavern."

Marie-Jeanne's face was hard as she entered the establishment, looking past the blissfully unaware patrons and to Sebastien who was now sitting at a table. She lowered herself into the seat across from him, and when he looked up at her she no longer recognized the man before her. "You have killed children." Her voice shook in anger and sadness.

"I kill whatever dares to cross my path." He claimed with a laid back smile.

"Why?"

"It's what I am. What I've become. You've heard the old story of what happens when you drink rainwater from the paw print of a wolf. You become the Demon-Wolf." She stared at him for a moment before looking towards Tolbert. "Go." He urged with a smile. "Go ahead. Tell them it's me. Then watch me tear them apart in a matter of moments. Every last soul in this place."

"You're a monster."

He shook his head slightly. "Beast, Marie-Jeanne. The Beast." A tear fell down her cheek as he stood and moved beside her, making her shy away as he put a hand on her shoulder and leaned down. "You won't catch me." He wiped the tear away and smoothed her hair down. "And you won't kill me. We're family, Marie-Jeanne." He kissed her head before standing. "We're family." He smirked down at her before walking away. She stood to face him as he grabbed his coat, opening the door and giving her one last look over his shoulder before he disappeared into the night.

"The skeptic became a full believer that night. So Marie-Jeanne went back to Henri to figure out how to kill both a Beast and a brother."

Sebastien took a few steps out of the tavern, letting the door close behind him before he noticed the figure by the well. Ophelia watched him carefully as he took a few steps closer, only stopping when she moved back to keep a safe distance. "You know." He realized.

"I should have realized sooner, I just didn't want to believe that you could do such horrors." She admitted.

"It is in my nature." He gave a small shrug as if he was saying it was in his nature to dance or sing.

"That is not who you were, that is not who you needed to be."

"It is who I am now." Her brow knit together, fighting back tears, fighting back the urge to just run into his arms. "But, you must know, I would never hurt you. Or precious Amelie." To his surprise, she shook her head. "I don't know that. Not with how much you have changed."

"You will not follow me then."

"Never. And you will never see Amelie again."

"I thought you would understand. Being something other, yourself." He could smell it on her, the natural scent of flowers that marked her as something different than the other villagers. He had never known before what she really was, and she had never planned to tell, perfectly content in just living as a human with her new family. But that is not meant to be. "Am I not still your husband? Am I not still the man you love?"

"No. Not anymore." Her lip trembled slightly as she looked at him. "I will always love you, Sebastien," she spoke quietly, "but I can't let this continue. I will stop you, no matter what I have to do." He watched as her eyes glowed violet in the darkness, squinting a little to see past the sudden wind that had picked up the snow at her feet. The white powder surrounded her, and when it dispersed, she was gone.

"I made good on my promise. I couldn't kill him myself, so did everything in my power to give Marie-Jeanne the tools she would need to bring an end to La Bête."

...

Marie-Jeanne set her crossbow on the table in Henri's hut, only for the man to shake his head. "One bolt may not be enough. We need something that cuts deeper."

"A sword? An axe?" Marie-Jeanne offered.

"Something that uses the weight of the Beast against itself." Ophelia had been examining one of Marie-Jeanne's bolts when an idea came to him. "I think I may have a possibilty."

The three worked tirelessly on this new weapon, Henri making a staff from mountain ash and wolfsbane while Ophelia and Marie-Jeanne made a spear head in the shape of a fleur-de-lis. When both pieces were made Henri held the staff while Marie-Jeanne placed the sharpened metal onto it's head. She curled her fingers over the protruding parts of the blade, ignoring the sting as it bit into her skin, her blood coating the surface and dripping to the floor. When it was secured Marie-Jeanne stepped back to admire the pike they had crafted.

Ophelia stepped forward then, eyes shining in the dim house as she cut her thumb, rubbing the blood along the length of the metal as she muttered words in another language. Marie-Jeanne looked curiously as a faint shimmer settled over the weapon before disappearing. "What did you do?" She wondered.

"It was a spell to weaken his spirit. It's not just his body that you need to kill. His spirit, his energy, is strong. You can't destroy energy, but you can diminish it. This... This will assure he can never come back by his own will."

...

"Marie-Jeanne had caught up to La Bête once before, just after a couple years. But not everything went as planned."

Marie-Jeanne was panting as she ran through the woods, pushing her legs to go faster than ever before. She had been trying to go for the pike, but the Beast cut her off at the pass, forcing her to change direction just to survive. Despite the speed at which she was running he was steadily catching up to her. She heard him roar, saw him raise his claws from over her shoulder, and braced for the inevitable. She let out a yell as she was shoved to the side, rolling to a stop in the snow. She quickly sat up and checked herself, but she had no more injuries than she had moments ago. Wasn't she hit? Did he miss? But when she looked up she realized what had actually happened. No, she wasn't hit, and no, he didn't miss. She was shoved out of the way, and his claws dug into flesh like he wanted, just not where he meant to.

Ophelia stands where Marie-Jeanne did moments before, with the Beast's claws buried deep into her stomach. Blood dribbles down the witch's chin as she coughs it up. The Beast removes his claws and Sebastien shifts back to his normal form, eyes wide in shock as he catches Ophelia before she can hit the cold snow. "No. No, no, no." He muttered, hand lightly trembling as he held the side of her face.

"Ophelia!" Marie-Jeanne cried as she scrambled over to them, not even looking at her brother while she pressed her hands onto Ophelia's wounds, trying in vain to help her friend.

"Why?" He whispered, eyes flitting between Ophelia's own as if he'd find the answer there.

"I would r- rather die, than let you kill her." Ophelia's voice was strong despite how much she struggled to speak.

"I can't- I can't stop the bleeding." Marie-Jeanne admitted, voice shaking as she kept trying despite what she said.

"It's okay." Ophelia mustered up a small smile towards her friend. She knew nothing could save her now. The injury was too severe, not even her own magic could have healed it now. "It'll be okay."

"You fool! Why would you do such a stupid thing?" Marie-Jeanne sobbed, quickly switching from anger to sadness. "I'm sorry."

Ophelia reached up and held Marie-Jeanne's hand, staining her skin with her own blood. "Don't cry, sister. We'll see each other again one day." She gently squeezed the hunter's hand, using what little strength she had to comfort her. Her eyes widened for a moment as she remembered something. "Am- Amelie-"

"I will take care of her, I promise." Marie-Jeanne swore, and that put Ophelia at ease.

Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, feeling so tired and just wanting to sleep. "Ophelia." Sebastien called, and she opened her eyes to see tears in his own. "Please, don't leave me. My Ophelia."

Ophelia let go of Marie-Jeanne's hand to reach up to his face, her fingers grazing his cheek and lips, leaving a smudge of blood there as her own were being stained crimson. "There. Just for a moment, I see him in your eyes. He dies with me. My Sebastien, my love." Her words trailed to a whisper, losing strength as her breathing slows to a stop and her eyes slide shut. A tear falls from her eye as her blood stained hand falls to the equally stained snow.

"No! Ophelia!" He sobbed, holding her close as Marie-Jeanne closed her eyes. Sebastien let's out an ear shattering roar, Marie-Jeanne flinching from the volume. She looks up when it stops to see the Beast running on all fours away from them, away from Ophelia's body, and disappearing behind the trees. Marie-Jeanne reached out and held onto Ophelia's hand, the tears flowing freely as she could no longer feel the warmth in her skin.

...

"You died." Lydia spoke and Ophelia nodded.

"That is as far as my story goes." Ophelia admitted before her demeanor changed again.

"What happened to Amelie?"

It was Y/n that answered. "My mother's story said Marie-Jeanne kept her promise, raising Amelie until she was old enough to be on her own and take her mother's maiden name. Besides that there's only bits and pieces in the grimoire about what happened after Ophelia died. It was another year before Marie-Jeanne caught up to him again."

"She finally cornered him in 1767." Gerard continued, seeming pleased that he would be the one to finish the story of Marie-Jeanne.

Marie-Jeanne was running through the forest, clothes slightly torn and bloody. She kept glancing behind her, Sebastien stalking after her, his own clothes in the same state as hers with an arrow in his shoulder and malice in his eyes. Marie-Jeanne tripped over a hidden root, and she clambered back to her feet as he got closer, ripping the arrow from his shoulder and throwing it to the ground. "Nowhere left to run, sister. And no one left to save you." She kept running as he held his arms out at his sides, shadows gathering at his feet and coalescing around him, transforming him from man to Beast once again. He chased her on all fours while she pushed herself forward still. Panting she slid to her knees, picking up the pike hidden and the snow and yelled as he finally caught up. The pike went right through his chest, stopping him in his tracks. The shadows melted away and it was Sebastien before her again. He slowly slid down the weapon to his knees, groaning in pain. He chuckled breathlessly. "You think this minor injury will stop me? I am the famous and feared Beast of Gévaudan. And when I'm done killing, everyone will know. I will have done such horrors, and all of history will remember my name."

Marie-Jeanne shook her head. "No one will remember."

He frowned at the implication. "Damnatio Memoriae? You will have them take my name? OUR name?" His shout caused him to start gasping as black blood flowed freely from his lips. "What- what is this?" He choked out.

"No ordinary steel. Wolfsbane and mountain ash, forged with our blood under the light of a full moon, and charmed by a witch." She rose to her feet to look down at him. "History might remember you, Sebastien." She nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to his head, a tear falling from her eye as she moved to whisper in his ear. "But only as a Beast." With that she straightened up again, and with one last groan, Sebastien fell to his side, unmoving. Marie Jeanne's cheeks were soon coated with salty tears as she looked up to the sky, exclaiming from the relief and from the pain that everything was finally over. The Beast was dead, and her brother, and her sister. Taking a moment to compose herself she looked down at his body, moving around behind him and pulling the pike all the way through. After one more glance she turned around and walked away, the pike under her arm.

...

"Damnatio Memoriae." Lydia repeated.

"They erased every detail of him. Everything he signed, everything he owned." Chris listed.

"They burned it all." Gerard said.

Marie-Jeane crouched in front of the lit fireplace in the tavern, watching with sad eyes as Rene tossed in some papers, adding to the growing pile of ash that was her brother's things. Tolbert added a few documents as well while Marie-Jeanne looked over her letter one more time before that, too, was cast into the flames. Amelie, now six years old, stood beside Marie Jeanne, the woman putting her arm around the girl to hold her close as they watched the fire dance, consuming Sebastien's name forever.

"The name Sebastien Valet has been forgotten for over 150 years, but when it's remembered..." Gerard trailed off only for Chris to continue.

"When the Beast remembers, the teenager inside is forgotten."

"Gone. Forever."

"But Marie-Jeanne didn't do it alone." Lydia argued. "She was never alone. She had help from Henri, Ophelia, the Magistrate, the town, even Marcel. We need Parrish. We're going to go find him." Lydia turned away, Y/n following as the two began to leave until Chris called to them.

"Lydia, Y/n, he's dangerous. He's still a shapeshifter. And one who's just beginning to understand his power."

"And we're not?" Y/n asked as they turned to face him.

"You're not the same. You access the supernatural. It works through you."

"But it doesn't control you." Gerard added.

"How would you know?" Lydia glared at the man. "Why do you care? Why are you suddenly on our side?"

He stepped forward and set down a small silver bar, sliding it across the table for Lydia to look at. "Because it's my name as well. Marie-Jeanne never left Henri after the death of her brother. And their relationship became more than a partnership. They married and she took his name."

Lydia's thumb ran over the fleur-des-li stamped into the metal. "Argent."

"Marie-Jeanne was the first Hunter."

"Our name will be remembered as well, Lydia. For killing the Beast."

"But I'm not an Argent." Lydia reminded before she looked to Chris. "And I'm not Allison."

"The Beast will not be killed by a name or person alone." Y/n let Lydia take her hand to lead the way out, and this time they were finally able to leave without someone trying to convince them to stay.

~~~
Published: 8/31/22

You guys have no idea how long I have been planning this chapter specifically. I had this idea for months, I'm so happy that I've finally gotten to do it!