Frantically she dug. Her nails scratching the surface as the soil sunk deeper under her skin. Her breath was ragged now, but her eyes were wide, wild, bright. She knew what she needed to do. The moonlight seemed to shroud her as she moved and her face contorted and twisted under its touch. With each splash of light she seemed harder, sharper, darker, her once soft lips took on a wolfish snarl, her shining blue eyes a black matte finish.

Every moment she was getting closer. Closer to the secret hidden deep down inside. Closer to the horror. Closer to the truth.

He lay in wait. Eyes unseeing, glazed, frozen. Mouth agape, forever to be a reminder of his fate. The ground had slowly sunk into him, filling every space with a river of soil; a mountain of dust and sin. Covering, surrounding, concealing: and yet it revealed the truth.

Isabella paused. Her eyes turned to the inky black sky. The black rooftop was dotted with silver stars. Each one watching over her, knowing her hubris, pitying her movements but despite this they willed each step, anticipated every next move, cheered each destructive choice. If she had known then what they knew, would she have stopped? Would she have abandoned this excavation? Been reunited with her old self? Or was it there forever in the constellations up ahead?

But it was too late. The monstrous instinct of humanity is too strong. It creeps up slowly, that old emotion, insidiously spreading its way through your veins, moving like water, spreading and stretching within. Until you are completely consumed- and all you can do is: dig.

Dig until your skin is cracking and peeling. Dig until the blood seeps through your nail bed. Dig until you stop thinking. Dig until you can't stop. Can't escape.

Something soft brushed her hand. Hungrily she caught hold of it and pulled. She paused, letting the soft material stroke her rough, course skin. She recognised its touch, the touch of human hair. She leant into the dig- her face pressed against the scraps of hair that poked through the ground. It was him: she knew it. She licked her lips in anticipation. Her eyes wild and bright once more at the very thought of being reunited with her love.

Plunging forward, she tumbled into the ground, her whole body moving with force as she dug through the soil. Another tusk of hair poked through, like shoots of new life breaking through the winter ground. Claws digging deeper underfoot, fangs on show, tail tightly wound, stance ready to pounce.

The moonlight seemed to be waning. A misty fog had been creeping around the deserted forest, weaving itself around each tree, hiding under roots as it watched silently. A thick cloud had manifested, each star wrapped within its hold. A secret now: dormant and in hiding but still looming over the makeshift graveyard.

She had found it. The unseeing eyes looked up at her and her own grew wider and brighter. Her heart melted once more at the sight of those blue eyes, but she was thinking of the eyes that had gone not the ones in front of her. The eyes that saw her smiling face, the eyes that lit up when she walked in the room, the eyes that turned red and spilt tears. The eyes that spoke to her. But these eyes were silent. It was heavier than she expected, more solid, tangible, a living weight. No longer a fantasy of love and nostalgia but now she was faced with reality. The truth of what he had become.

A severed head.

Isabella squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled the head towards her chest and plunged the face between her breasts, nestled, safe, where he should be. Her heart fluttered against the head, each beat a reminder of her life, each beat a reminder of her loss. He ran to her, warm, breathing, beating, living; the world ceased to matter. His musky warm smell took her over as her own head nestled into his chest, her body melting into his large broad form, she wilted and disappeared beneath him and he held her still. She opened her eyes and looked down at what was left- what he had become.

A solitary tear fell from Isabella onto the pale, shrivelled face. And yet it brought no life. No fairy tale transformation, no metamorphous, no ghostly apparition to ease her pain. No resolution.

This was death. The head: severed, lifeless, broken. Her love was gone and this was what replaced him. A body part. An empty shell.

She was still now. No movement, no digging, no sound. And she exhaled loudly, letting the quiet in with her next breath, letting it all be, letting herself be still. Be quiet.

"Goodbye," she whispered- but she was no longer looking at the head.

The mist had passed and hundreds of glittering stars gazed down on her. Each seemed to be brighter than the last. The full moon was centre stage, frozen in perfect stillness. Isabella looked at the chaotic quiet above and smiled.

"Goodbye."

And only quiet followed.