The grey castle squatted precariously on the edge of the rocky bluff. Below, the dead trees created an ocean of twisted, scraggy branches, desperate arms reaching towards an unforgiving, dirty-white sky. It was this kind of weather that Saber hated most, the kind that he wished he could simply curl up under the covers and sleep the day away. Dark clouds meant thunder, grey clouds in winter meant snow, but dusty-grey clouds in midsummer could mean rain, or nothing at all. In the rugged foothills of Aevetalis, it usually meant absolutely nothing. Humidity hung in the stuffy air like wool and plastered his ash-coloured hair to his sweaty forehead. If the sky had not been shrouded in clouds, Saber would have been able to estimate, by the sun's position, that the ceremonial brunch back at the village would have ended by now, somberly.

It was an honour to be chosen by one's village to defeat the creature in the Castle of Solus. The rational mind would have proclaimed it a death sentence, but, if Saber died nobly enough, he had a solid chance of being reincarnated as a demigod. In truth, nobody had ever returned from successfully slaying the beast, and so the entire village would lapse into prayer and meditation for the chosen warrior.

The chosen warrior. The phrase had resounded in his head as he started down the valley, shrugging his pack up his shoulders, the path finally fogless for one day in a year. He would fight to the death to rid the castle of the beast, it was probably some old, sick bag of bones by now anyway. The king would be able to return to ruling in the Castle of Solus, and Saber would be showered with riches, maybe even dubbed the king's personal champion. Look, the people would cry from below his snowy white stallion, It's the hero of Aevetalis! The one who slayed the wicked beast of Solus!

Saber's daydreams of grandeur soon faded away with the blue sky and greenery, as the breezes no longer blew cool air from the south. It was hard not to notice the dulling sky, as it grew paler with clouds high up in the atmosphere. Or, Saber thought with dread, the colour is simply being sucked from the sky. The cheery poplars and shrubbery had died out, replaced with towering conifers, tips brushing the sky, pine needles carpeting the ground. Though the branches were bare and the bark was flaking, they refused to be uprooted from the forest floor, and Saber could only see trees past more trees blurring into a ruddy grey landscape. He might as well face reality now than in the last moments of his life. His left arm ached, the wooden shield that had made him look ferocious back at the village suddenly seemed too heavy and garish, and the broadsword tugged incessantly at his hip, as if it wanted to be left behind in the dirt. He couldn't blame it, if he was a majestic blade being dragged into battle by a disheartened teenager, he would want to be left behind too.

The path was soon replaced with rocks and boulders, and as Saber began the laborious hike, he noticed the slight incline. Panting, he forced his tired limbs to move up the seemingly endless hill. Maybe he shouldn't have started his journey so jovially, he could use some of that motivation right about now. He swore as his foot went out from under him, slipping on slick moss, before wincing at the ghostly echo. How high had he really climbed?

He could feel the darkness before he really saw it. The light mist--when had that formed?--soon gave way to coal-black stones reaching far higher than he would have liked, and a heavy iron gate. This castle was more of a fortress, what kind of battle king had resided within those walls? Wrinkling his nose against the rotting smell of rust, Saber paused. What was he supposed to do now? He only ever thought about the actual act of slaying the creature, and ceased worrying about losing his way in the forest when the path refused to disappear. Never once did he think that he would need a way to get inside the castle. Cautiously, he knocked the edge of his shield against the iron gate. Nothing. Saber gave an exasperated sigh. How was he supposed to defeat the beast if he couldn't even get into the castle? His quest would be over before it had even truly started! He angrily beat the flat of his shield against the solid iron, taking satisfaction in the thunderous reverberations behind the door as they drowned his discouraging thoughts.

"I am Saber of Dæynmar, and I've come to slay the beast!" he hollered. Forget being stealthy when you needed your enemy's help to get inside your enemy's own castle. He waited.

He nearly turned around to go back the way he had came--how shameful that would have been! Coming home not because he had miraculously succeeded in killing the beast, but because he couldn't get inside the castle!--but then stopped when he detected a low rumble from within the stone walls. No, it was more of a rattle, slowly getting louder and louder and---SCREECH! Saber covered his ears and yelped, but quickly noticed that a sliver of darkness had appeared between the two halves of the massive gates and was swiftly growing wider. He gaped before ducking inside, more on instinct than anything else. This was happening. It was actually happening. He was actually going to try to slay the beast.

The inside of the castle was painted in musty darkness, as if it was trying to hide its innards from view. The only real sunlight, if you could even call it that, came from the slowly closing doors, and even that didn't help much. He turned around. The doors were closing slow enough that if Saber wanted to forgo the whole mission and slip back outside, he probably could. It was much more uninviting in here than out there, and he didn't necessarily have to return to the village and bear the name "coward" for the rest of his life. He could run away, maybe even find another village if he was lucky enough. Even if he didn't, he was pretty sure he had a much higher chance of surviving nature and the elements than the beast in here.

The doors shut with an unimpressive crunch, and Saber had to blink at the sudden darkness, eyes slowly accustoming to the drab gloom. Any thoughts of chickening out went down the drain. And, when he thought it couldn't, his sinking stomach sank even further. The great hall he was standing in had to be at least three stories high, and if the beast was some kind of dragon, it would have plenty of room to fly around. Another thing he forgot to think about, he blanched at this particularly mindless mistake, was what the beast would be like. Would it possess the body of a mythical beast, or a ruthless creature such as a menacing grizzly or a lion? Or what if it was a shapeshifter? His mind rolled about the endless possibilities. Since there were never any survivors of battling the beast, he had no way of having even the slightest idea of what the creature would be like.

Saber felt the odds worsening with every thought, he was on the beast's home turf with not even a map to guide him, and this castle was probably enormous. If he got lucky maybe he would get lost and die somewhere without ever encountering what would probably be a ghastly monster. But the door was so loud, he bet the beast would have heard it from anywhere inside the maze of stone. In fact, the beast was probably staring at him right now, high above, nestled in the rafters, a massive scaly dragon with gleaming yellow eyes getting ready to swoop down and pounce on his unsuspecting prey....

The thought itself sent shuddering chills down his spine, gooseflesh peppering his arms at his wayward imagination. His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword and he gripped it with a clammy hand, though it offered next to no reassurance. Although he had been trained, the art of the blade was quite foreign to him. It was almost like his instructor had known that any advanced teaching would be lost on him, as he would almost surely die. His sister had teased him of how ironic it was that his name meant blade and yet what he knew about swordplay could amount to a walnut. Beyond the basic techniques, Saber knew nothing.

Pulse pounding in his ears, Saber tilted his head upwards, searching the farthest corners of the great hall. Though he could not see past the inky blackness, there were no telltale shadows of something that wasn't supposed to be there. Beam by beam, his eyes deftly scanned the murkiness, and he felt his shoulders relax. It was just as likely that the beast was in another wing of the castle and the great hall was vacant, perhaps he'd even have time to come up with a worthy plan and ambush the beast. Craning his neck, he sighed with relief. If the beast was really out to eat him, then it would have bitten his head off as soon as he walked through the gates. So far, Saber had to admit that things were looking pretty good.

He froze, barely breathing. Right above his head, two twin amber orbs glared out of the shadows, staring into his own wide eyes. One second passed, then two, three. Perhaps they were simply lanterns, hanging from a very strange chandelier----the spheres winked. Blinked. The spheres blinked. Saber bolted. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he didn't dare draw his sword, it would only slow him down. Feet pattering across the floor, he beelined for the open doorway on the other side of the chamber, in between the symmetrically spiralling staircases on either side. His senses picked up the deep breaths and whoosh of air as the beast drew closer, flying. It must have been massive, its exhales brushing the cold sweat on the nape of his neck. Finally, after what seemed like centuries, he reached the human-sized doorway on the other end of the great hall. It led down a hallway, but Saber only gave himself a brief moment of relief as he heard the leathery rustle of wings being folded, and---nothing. No scrape of claws, clack of talons, nothing. He realized with a start that the beast must have padded feet, the only way he could tell that the beast was even on his tail at all was the deep, wet breathing and the scaly scratch of wings. Hopelessness was a stone in his stomach, one more thing to turn the tables a bit farther in the beast's direction.

He barely acknowledged the four-way junction ahead before abruptly swinging left, centimeters away from nailing his nose on the corner as he passed. Something brushed his ear and there was a crash from behind him, the scrabbling of claws and an angry hiss. He shivered at the near miss, had he not turned he might have been dead by now. At least now, Saber had bought himself extra seconds of precious time and a couple extra meters of precious distance. Doors lined the walls as he sprinted by and he briefly contemplated slipping inside one, but they were all closed and he would surely die if he tried to open one. At the upcoming T-junction, he willed his gasping, trembling body right—please don't be a dead end, please don't be a dead end!—and dashed headlong into an open doorway. Whipping around, he fumbled his stiff fingers around the metal handle before slamming the heavy wooden door shut on his glimpse of the monster. There was a loud thud as it attempted another pounce, silence, and a low, raspy growl.

Saber's thoughts raced in frantic circles, futilely trying to erase the ugly image from his mind. Yellowed amber eyes bulging grotesquely from the monster's skull and its black lips had been pulled back in a hideous snarl, revealing rows of twisted dagger-like teeth and tusks that had been aimed for his tender throat—he shook while loudly panting in the stuffy room. That had been way too many close brushes with death in a span of ten minutes. Throat burning, he inhaled deeply and willed his hammering heartbeat to slow, knees threatening to buckle.

Cursing, Saber jabbed his shaking fingers at the clasped straps of his shield. The stupid thing had only thrown him off balance when escaping the beast, never once had he thought to defend himself with it. It would somehow end up backfiring on me, he thought angrily, I wouldn't die from the beast, but die from being crushed by my own shield. Finally, it clattered to the floor. Perhaps if he had decided to use his shield, the monster would already be dead by now. He forced himself to his feet. Saber may have been woefully unprepared for everything that had happened since he stepped foot in the castle, but he wasn't going to die a sitting duck. The room he had taken refuge in was obviously one of the towers, an extensive staircase wound upwards against the wall, which could not be seen from the sheer number of books and parchment shelved and pinned upon it. Sparingly, the books parted to reveal a miniscule window to let in a small patch of sunlight, which soon faded into the pressing shadows of wherever the light could not reach. The windows themselves couldn't have been much wider than an arrow slit, Saber noted as he climbed the rickety stairs. Most of the books were coated in a thick layer of dust, but it was blatantly obvious that some had recently been pulled off the shelf.

By whom?

The top of the stairwell disappeared into the ceiling, a sort of attic underneath the cone-shaped roof. Dust motes swirled in the air, illuminated by pure sunlight streaming in through a spacious window framed by crooked roof tiles. Strangely enough, there was nothing in the room but a single pedestal with the wooden bust of a horse's head perched on top, as big as that of his father's stallion back home. What did a killer monster need artwork for? The sculpture was roughly cut and unvarnished, hardly art at all, and more like an amateur's first attempt using scrap wood. Shards of gleaming obsidian were embedded in its eye sockets. Upon closer inspection, Saber noticed something engraved in the edge of the pedestal.

"Do not look a gift horse in the mouth," he read to himself.

The inscription too was scraggy, most likely cut in with the tip of a blade. He ran his thumb over the rugged surface thoughtfully. Perhaps there was something in the horse bust's mouth he was supposed to see? Saber drew his sword with a metallic ring, the first time since he left the village, and lightly knocked the hilt against the horse's jaw. Surprisingly, the jaw swung open from a seamless hinge. It had seemed invisible before he knocked it open, maybe the bust wasn't so roughly cut after all. What was even more surprising were the 42...43...44 smooth, polished emeralds lining the inside of it's mouth, each the size of a small pebble. He whistled, impressed. Three of those precious stones alone could probably land him in professional fencing training, maybe even by a real knight. Three more would get him a fine horse, the best in the kingdom, and another three a suit of gleaming armour. He began to eagerly wiggle out one of the gems from its flimsy wooden setting when the horse bit down, crushing his finger between its emerald teeth. Saber cried out, more in shock than agony, and desperately tried to dislodge his index finger from the horse's maw. After struggling to no avail for a good while, Saber could only stare at his predicament. He must have looked a bit silly: sword out, standing there with his hand hanging out of the jaws of an emerald-toothed wooden horse bust. He nearly laughed in his pain, but the horse began to talk, and he stumbled back, finger finally free.

"You know, the whole point of the whole little message thing was that you didn't look inside my mouth and take my teeth," the horse snorted in a very un-equine way.

Saber blinked. "Wha...?"

The bust looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

Saber blinked again. A wooden horse is speaking to me. He rubbed his finger. I must have hit my head at some point and am currently passed out on the floor somewhere. And yet, he knew this wasn't the hazy illusion of a dream, the bitemarks on the side of his finger painfully real.

The bust rolled its eyes and sighed, a heaving movement that impossibly seemed to expand its wooden chest.

Saber narrowed his eyes. "What are you?"

"Who, lad, the correct, and most polite, way to address a non-human vocalized article is still who. I am either Rhaebus or Hengroen, but I can never remember, at some point I think I was the Trojan Horse..." The horse head lapsed into confused muttering. "But today I shall be Arion. And you are?"

"Oh—uh, Saber. Sir. My name is Saber."

The horse looked him up and down. "Well, I assume you are the new warrior then?" Arion said, unimpressed.

Saber opened his mouth to defend himself, but he went on, "The last one was taller, and obviously knew how to handle a sword much better than you do, lad."

Saber grumpily sheathed his sword, angry at the stupid talking wooden horse head and angry at how close to the truth it was without even trying. "How do you even exist?"

"Excuse me!" Arion cried, offended. "How do I exist! Me! The most literate enchanted object in the entire castle! And the boy asks how I exist! Well," the horse retorted sarcastically, "I do wish you the very best of luck against the ferocity that is the beast!"

"Ok, ok!" Saber was taken aback by the wooden horse head's rant. "I, uh, formally apologize? Yeah. I formally apologize."

"You very well should be! I'll have you know that you are only getting off the hook so easily because you're new! Anyone else would be immediately incarcerated for simply stating something so disrespectful. You should hear about the time I sent an entire squadron of goblins to Tartarus for making fun of my lack of any sort of body..."

Arion kept on his tangent, but Saber had lapsed into deep thought. The legendary enchanted Castle of Solus was just that: legendary. In return for the rescue of his life, a wizard gave the King of Solus the gift of enchantment to the castle. Never once had he thought to connect the fictional castle with the one that had swallowed up warriors for as long as anyone could remember.

"And after that, the Sleipnir could only—"

"So," Saber interrupted, "does that mean you're...magical?"

"Of course, obviously!" Arion puffed proudly, forgetting to reprimand Saber for his rudeness. "As far as magical elements come by, I guarantee that you will never find something quite like me—"

"Does that mean I get a wish? Like the stories?"

"W-well, I suppose if that's what you w-want? I mean, it can certainly be arranged," Arion sputtered, thrown off from the sudden change of direction.

But Saber wasn't listening, he was already thinking about the endless possibilities. Would he be allowed to wish for absolutely anything he wanted, or were there rules to wish-granting? The fairy tales his mother used to read to him as a boy all claimed that wish-granting creatures only gave you three wishes, but never talked about wishing for more wishes. And would he have to worry about tricky catches? Arion seemed nice enough, but...

"Arion, are there...more of you in the rest of the castle?"

The equine looked down his nose at him, returning to his aloofness.

Saber immediately backpedaled, "I—what I meant to say is, are there more enchanted objects in the castle?"

"Why, absolutely. Creatures, too, not only objects. It would be a wonder if you found them all, in fact, I don't think there's ever been a warrior that's managed to come across every single one of them..."

Looking outside, Saber noted the sun's position was high above, signifying noon. Then he noticed the clouds. Below.

"Arion?"

"Hm?"

"About how high up off the ground are we?"

Arion chuckled. "Oh, far enough, lad, far enough."

Settling on the floor, Saber pulled out his lunch and tried not to think about how it suddenly seemed like the tower was shifting in the breeze. Arion's tangent of his encounter with a harpy didn't exactly help either. And, all his stories of beasts reminded Saber of the beast, who could probably knock down the door at any moment with the aid of an enchanted object...

Saber's appetite was instantly thrown out of the window.

"Arion, I've got to kill that beast!"

The wooden horse didn't even admonish him for there was a tone of unconcealed desperation in his voice. He was silent.

"Arion, you can help me kill the beast, can't you?"

Arion only looked away, and Saber said suspiciously, "I do get a wish, don't I?"

"Of course, of course! Its only...that..."

"What?"

"Maybe you shouldn't kill him," Arion finally croaked, "He's been in here for longer that needed, he—"

"No! I am trapped in this damned castle to kill that wretched beast, and that's exactly what I'm going to do!" Saber cried furiously. How dare this horse head have any shred of pity for a cold-hearted monster that most definitely wanted to eat him! "I think I'm ready for that wish now." Animosity shone in his eyes.

"If that's what you want," he replied monotonously. There was what could only be described as sadness in his voice.

Saber thought back to his useless shield. He had a much higher chance of reaching an unfortunate demise if he had no sort of protection.

"I wish for a suit of armour!" A full suit of armour may be inconveniently heavy, but would be more than enough of a defense from tooth and claw.

Shutting his eyes, he felt an ugly itching sensation crawl underneath the surface of his skin. He could physically feel the cells of his skin shifting, making space for something growing out of it, as an unfamiliar ripping sound tore through the air. Choking on his voice, what should have been a surprised yell came out as a dry gurgle.

Once Saber could safely say that the sensation had completely faded away, he opened his eyes. He felt heavy, but not heavy enough, like it wasn't a real suit of armour that he was wearing. Stretching his shoulder blades, he could feel the plates shifting and scratching against each other. But, it wasn't the shift and scratch of steel. He stared at his hands, then his arms, barely moving. Scales. His entire body was covered in golden-beige scales. The biggest ones were the size of his hand from fingertip to the heel of his palm, the smaller ones coating his fingers decreasing in size as tiny as his pinky toenail. The only place not covered in scales was his face. Strewn over the floor were the shredded remains of his clothes, boots and his sword belt, clumps of hair scattered in the scraps of fabric. Hair was no more than a hindrance when your bald head sprouted smooth scales.

There was a look of one of one who knew what was going to happen on Arion's stony expression.

"What have you done to me?" he whispered.

"A suit of armour, just like you wanted."

Saber ¬hadn't exactly specified the definition of armour, but he guessed the scales of a pangolin counted as a sort armour, technically. Upon tripping and rolling down the majority of the tower's stairs, he only realized how much he would have liked a mirror when he found out about his tail. It had slithered across the wooden boards like some kind of wide paper-skinned snake—with very large scales—and he had tripped over it on the fifth step down. The only actual useful thing it had done was wrap around his tucked body whilst he proceeded to haphazardly tumble down the stairs.

Well, I can certainly agree that this is working armour, he thought. Though it wasn't ideally comfortable, Saber felt next to no pain at all. He could tell where the edge of the step would have normally dug into his spine, but was merely deflected by the tough keratin scales. On the other hand, he felt incredibly nauseous, his stomach threatening to upheave the meager bites of food he had for lunch. Head spinning in dizzy circles, he couldn't tell he had reached the bottom and had stopped moving, leaning against the wall.

Saber slowly uncurled himself from his defensive ball, stretching his tense limbs. A few books had fallen from their shelves when he had bumped the wall, dust rising like ashes in the wind from the disturbance. Upon opening the door a crack and peering through, the beast was nowhere to be seen. He did not bother wasting anymore time and strolled through the doorway heedlessly. At any time, if the beast decided to launch a surprise attack, it would need more than sharp tusked teeth and claws to get past his new shield.

The hallway only got darker as he proceeded, the iron-wrought torch mounts vacant of any light and the stone walls freezing to the touch. The hall ended in a stairwell leading up, the top hidden from view behind a corner. Moth-eaten tapestries draped over the expanses, color faded, hanging from rusted poles sculpted in the design of another time. Not trusting his tail, he made the climb on all fours, ascending in the hopes of finding another enchanted object and receiving another wish. Reaching the top, he intuitively knew that things were finally starting to look up.

Blocking the passage ahead of him, the beast let out a challenging growl. It was the fist time he had really seen the whole of the creature, and the sight of it caused him to raise his hackles and let out a hiss of his own. As large as a lion, disgusting was just not a strong enough word. It's sparse, bristly fur was a greasy black, wrinkling against it's abnormally wide snarl. Although it's paws were wide and clumsy, they grew talon-like claws each as wide as the grip of his sword and as long as his finger. Between the bat-ears swivelling from the side of it's head, two scratched horns as of those of a goat sprouted from its skull, and two scaly wings as of those of a dragon extended from it's shoulder blades. The ghastliest part was its three lazily twisting tails, waving like serpents getting ready to strike. One was patterned like a wildcat, another furless with sunburn-red skin and a barbed end, and the third was a revolting enlarged imitation of a venomous scorpion's tail.

Saber felt both confident and ready. He needed another wish before he could find a way to permanently defeat the beast, but until then he wouldn't have to get hurt. Creeping to the side, he let his scales ripple across his back.

You can't hurt me now.

The beast too began to circle, and he could feel the breathlessness of his heartbeat quickening, and it was exhilarating. Was this what warriors marching off to battle felt, the need to draw their sword and charge headlong into the bloody fray? The beast lunged without warning, contorted fangs dripping with saliva, and Saber momentarily froze before curling up into a tight spheroid of solid overlapping plates. There was a low crunching noise as the creature attempted in vain to chew through. This went on fruitlessly for some time, and though he knew that these scales were built to withstand forces much greater than this, there was always the dark doubt of his armour failing, at the worst possible moment. Once the beast finally realized that it's effort was amounting to nothing, Saber felt its jaws recede. One moment passed, then two, three. He lifted his head slightly from his curled ball, and saw the beast sitting down calmly with all three tails wrapped over its front paws. He carefully unwrapped himself, eyes never leaving the monster. As he warily got to his feet, the beast began to...chuckle? Yes, a deep-throated, gravelly chuckle emanated from within the creature. Saber backed away slowly towards the now unblocked hallway, but the beast seemed to take no head, the laugh soon escalating into a hearty cackle. I know something you don't know...

Saber had the nagging feeling he was being duped, like he was running headfirst into a trap, but no nets dropped from above and no trap doors opened up below him as he bolted down the passageway, away from the maniac of a monster.

So the beast has a voice, too.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised. If a talking piece of wood was possible, why not a laughing monster? Slowing, he decided to try on of the many doorways that stood like sentries along the corridor. At last, he reached the most ornate door of all, a slab of white granite engraved with vines and flowers twisting around a flourishing tree. Pushing open the stone door revealed a lonely bedchamber.

What was probably once a luxurious bedchamber was now a wreckage of splintered, broken wood and rags strewn about, the half-destroyed silhouettes of chairs, a bookshelf, a wardrobe. Further on, a small doorway behind a ratty wisp of curtain led on to the bath. It was moderately sized and had high windows, but consisted of nothing but an old-looking well in the middle of the room.

The deep, two-meter-wide hole had been given a paltry-looking wall a foot tall, the stones misshapen and cementing sloppy, as if it had been constructed hastily simply to provide a warning that the well was there at all. Saber had begun to see that anything that appeared tattered or frowzy in this castle had a habit of not being normal.

A wishing well.

Tentatively, he picked up a pebble that had fallen loose from the heap and tossed it into the black emptiness below, listening for the telltale splash indicating the water level. One second passed, then two, three. A dull plunk. But did an enchanted well actually need coins? Maybe he should talk to it? Like Arion?

"Uh...hullo?" He felt both silly and stupid, why on earth would a well have to talk? Arion had had a mouth, at the very least. His voice echoed faintly. Aggravatedly, he gently tugged out one of the scales on the inner side of his wrist, roughly the size of a penny, and dropped it. It gave a muted splosh before he could only assume it began to sink to the bottom of the well. Perhaps the well wouldn't be able to tell the difference. It was only a well, after all.

I wish for weapons.

Saber had only had to verbally express his wish to Arion because he was an animate object, and he didn't think he would be a mind-reader. It only made sense to say it out loud. But with a wishing well, he grew up knowing that speaking one's wish out loud meant it would never come true. The familiar itching commenced, now an almost unbearable pins-and-needles. Gasping, he clenched his fists before thinking against it, as the pain only doubled. It was as if the tingling of his last wish had all been funneled into his fingers and burning at the tips. His mouth suddenly felt parched, filled with sand, as the prickling shudders soon traversed down the length of his spine and pulsed at the crown of his head. His face felt like it had been drained of all heat, ice cold to the changing bones beneath the skin. The onslaught soon dwindled to a blunted throb, and how he wished he had some kind of mirror. Looking at his hands, he could figure out that his fingers had widened to fit fingernails the size of butter dishes imitating shovels, and by feel his face was suddenly long and narrow, but what had happened to his head and back was beyond him. He felt enormous, almost twice as tall as he was before and three times as wide, engulfed in muscle.

Click click click.

Saber felt his ears twitch, though he didn't have time to ponder as to how that was supposed to be impossible.

Click CLICK CLACK.

The sound of claws on stone was clearly audible now, the pace of a conceited predator who knew where its prey was hiding. He knew that, and was prepared. He stayed where he was, on all fours with hackles raised, eyes focused. He heard the heavy groan of the door, and the shifting of wreckage as the slick beast slunk through the shambles, and the low panting breath of life that bordered on a battle-hungry blood-thirsty growl. He saw the eyes shining dimly like a pair of Harvest Moons before it prowled into view, the crooked king of a crumbling castle.

Then, the beast spoke.

"I was once like you, you know." It came out as a hoarse whisper, a grating wheeze that nearly didn't sound like words at all.

Saber refused to have anything in common with this atrocity of a beast. "Quiet, monster!" This was all a ruse to get him riled up, so that the beast could sidle out of having to die. It knows I'm going to kill it.

The beast prowled closer, neatly dodging Saber's darting slash as his claws sliced through air.

"I too was sent here to kill a beast."

Saber was confused, and that made him angry. Who was the real beast then, and who was this? "You're crazy," he irately spat, "You don't know what you're talking about!" Kill the beast and get out of the castle.

Again, that low, abrasive laugh. "I know exactly what I'm talking about. I know how this ends," it said, the last part coming out as a muted growl.

Saber charged, pouring his rage into the uncoordinated leap, lips instinctively peeled back from his long snout, flashing even, razor-sharp teeth, though he didn't know that. The beast disappeared, and Saber flinched at the sharp jab into his ribcage as the creature bowled him over from the side, pinning his easily.

All those other times, the beast was merely toying with me.

It leaned in, tails lashing and sour breath clouding Saber's nose, and rasped, "My name was Galantyne."

Saber heaved himself upwards, but the beast did not budge. He didn't want to know the beast's name, he was supposed to kill it! Baring his teeth, he let his new claws rake across his enemy's face. Galantyne only let out an annoyed hiss before snaking off of him, crouched and ready to pounce. Blood dripped satisfyingly from the three cuts, but it—he—whatever!—seemed unconcerned, glowing eyes focused on Saber.

"I was just like you, once." A warning, no longer an idle villain's banter.

Saber shivered. Kill the beast and get out of this crazy, good-for-nothing castle. Tilting his head downwards, he swung. Sure enough, the thing on his head caught the beast off guard, and Saber sprang forward. He knew he had the advantage now, and Galantyne knew, too, his attacks weighed down with hopelessness. Saber was close enough for Galantyne's scorpion tail to stab him with deadly poison, but the spike could not find a fracture in his plated armour. There was a sickening crack as the beast's head struck the side of the well as they scuffled, giving Saber the same look that Arion had given him when he had granted his wish. Saber recognized it now, it was a look of unmasked pity. He hesitated at that, and Galantyne gave one more half-hearted lunge. Saber leapt up, taking the opportunity, and deftly knocked him into the well.

Panic flashed in those hideously yellow eyes as he scrabbled at the edge for an instant, then tumbled down the rest of the shaft, howls echoing eerily as the screeching sound of his claws found no purchase against the slippery stone. Water washed up all the way to the lip of the wall as he hit the surface with a deafening splash, he could hear the water frothing as the beast struggled to stay afloat, to stay alive. Saber watched emotionlessly until the room was silent once more, never once had Galantyne called for help. He had once watched his father kill a wolf, the once-majestic animal floundering pathetically in a trap set near their sheep's grazing grounds. It had been undoubtedly messy and gruesome for the eight-year-old Saber, and he had vomited before crying even after his father had calmly explained that the wolf was killing the sheep just as savagely.

Saber shuddered again, he couldn't stop repeating the phrase Galantyne had muttered in his ear when he had told him his name.

Your time will come.

The beast was dead. Saber could leave now. He should have felt victorious, but only felt a sinking dread. Picking through the rubble, he found what he was looking for: a nearly-shattered full-length mirror. It leaned at a dangerous angle and was impaled by a curtain rod, but for the most part served its purpose. Saber almost didn't even recognize himself. He looked like the muscled blacksmith back at the village, covered in an armour that wouldn't come off and massive claws that would dissuade anyone to come near him at all. Even his face didn't even look like the scared boy that had stumbled through those castle gates this morning—had that only been this morning? It felt like it had happened years ago—his nose and jaw lengthened into a slender snout and filled with sharp, brutal teeth. Finally, he could see what the wishing well had done to the areas invisible to him without a mirror: his head now sported a massive curved horn similar to that of a rhinoceros in one of his sister's books, and his back had split open down the middle to reveal elongated spikes that traversed in arches down the length of his spine. He couldn't go home looking like this, like some replica of a dangerous monster.

He trotted out of the bedchamber and down the hall, slightly bewildered but congratulating himself nonetheless. It seemed the most reasonable to find another enchanted object and wish for himself to be back to normal. The castle almost seemed to have brightened, as if it had been rid of a horrible disease.

Approaching a long, wraparound balcony, he looked down over a massive great hall, the same one where he first ran from the beast. He still couldn't believe that had only been this morning. From this vantage point he could clearly see the rafter on which the beast had first been spying on him. The colossal iron doors remained dark and closed tightly.

Saber's tuned ears pricked at a muddled sound in the distance, and he curiously crept along the balcony until he reached a window on the far end of the wall, above the metal gates. His stomach churned when he saw what it was.

There, on the path, was a red-headed girl determinedly hiking up the rocky trail, oversized sword nearly dragging in the dirt and shield strapped to her back. She did not pause as she strode confidently to the gate and rapped her knuckles on the heavy metal door. Inside, the sound gave a brassy thunder.

"I am Zeva of Moenia, and I've come to slay the beast!"

Your time will come, the voice reverberated in his head.