𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐃 as the front door was slammed. Of course Celine could be a bit dramatic at times when bothered, but she was normally quite good at concealing it. Lately though, the girl had grown more vocal when it came to voicing her complaints.

Celine stomped toward her room, contemplated slamming the door, but ultimately flopped down on her bed without using any extra effort. She buried her face into her pillow and released a muffled scream that surely would've impaired someone's hearing at full volume.

"Will he ever give up?" Celine questioned into her pillow then scoffed, "Imagine. Me, the wife of that boorish, brainless—gah!"

"Perhaps you're judging a book by its cover too quickly, mon ange."

Celine looked up, a bit surprised since she hadn't realized her mother was watching her mental breakdown. She slowly sat up and brushed a few stray hairs out of her eyes before crossing her arms. "I offered him a second chance, Maman, which made me realize I want nothing to do with him."

"I remember a time when the opposite was just as true," Althea replied gently, taking a seat at the end of the bed while still providing enough distance between them.

"I was a foolish child who only looked at outward appearances," Celine contradicted. "Just because a painting is appealing to look at does not guarantee it possesses any real substance."

Althea chuckled. "Okay, I'll play along. Maybe a painting doesn't possess any substance upon a first or second glance, but sometimes when you stop and really look at the artwork and consider the time it took to craft, you may just realize there's more to it than meets the eye."

As her mother spoke, Celine's gaze drifted toward the window. She didn't mean to zone out the conversation, but her thoughts couldn't be contained. The topic of paintings brought her back to the castle and the decadent display of art hung around the castle. She'd spent much time simply staring at the walls. There were even moments when the beast would join her. Usually there was a comfortable silence between them, but there were rare moments that led to deep and meaningful conversations she'd never shared before... not even with Belle.

"Do you understand, Celine?"

Celine blinked out of her daze. An amused look crossed her mother's face as if she'd just realized something. Celine's brow knitted in confusion. "What?"

"No wonder you have no interest in Monsieur LeGume," Althea laughed under her breath. "There's some other young man who has carved away at the walls guarding your heart."

Celine quickly scoffed, denying the accusation. "No... what makes you say that?"

Althea gently rolled her eyes. "I may be getting older, mon ange, but I am not blind. At first I thought you were still upset by your downcast mood, but I see I was wrong. You hardly speak, eat, or sleep, and you spend most of your time away from home... you're falling in love."

Celine laughed. It was the only reaction she could muster. The reason she was never home was because she had grown accustomed to spending so much time at the cursed castle. However, was she really searching for answers any more? She'd learned what had become of her father and she vaguely understood why she felt drawn to the castle in the first place, so why did she still feel the need to return? In truth, she'd found someone who finally seemed to understand her on a deeper, emotional level.

Belle had provided wonderful friendship over the years, something she wouldn't trade for the world, but her companionship with the beast was different. Like with Belle, they both started on a path of similar desires... but now she wasn't quite sure what she wanted. She felt lost and the only place she felt at peace was deep in the woods—sacre bleu—she was falling in love.

But that was impossible, right? It had to be. He was a beast for crying out loud, a dangerous creature... with kind, sapphire eyes and a heart of gold. The reminder of his cursed outward appearance came in the form of a memory of the torn painting hanging from the wall of the west wing. It was one of the few things ingrained in her mind from that night. Oh why did everything have to suddenly grow so complicated?

"And lest we forget about the gifts," Althea continued her miniature rant. "Don't think I haven't noticed the vibrant hues of paint that coat your smock. I know for a fact we don't own any of them within this cottage, so who is he?"

Celine hesitated. She took a breath then placed a sweet, but false smile on her face. "He reminds me of papa."

Celine jumped up from her bed and tossed a few art supplies into her satchel. The bag was slung over her shoulder and she turned to leave the room, but stopped as Althea released an incredulous laugh. "Is that all I'm going to get?"

Celine twisted her lips in thought before nodding her head with a sly smile. "Oui. I'm off to the meadows to paint."

"Ai, mon ange!" Althea called after her. "Don't forget your cloak. I don't need you to catch a winter chill."

"Merci, Maman," Celine called over her shoulder, snatching her cloak on her way out the front door.

Althea sighed and chuckled gently. "Children will be children..."

Although Celine had just arrived home less than half an hour before, Althea didn't mind her absence. In fact, she felt more at peace believing her daughter had finally made a connection in the village. It certainly explained her odd behavior and slipping away these past few months.

She began to gently hum under her breath, waltzing around the room while reminiscing on a time where she herself walked in her daughter's shoes.

———— 𖥸 ————

THE SUMMER AIR had grown dry and the leaves rolled back on themselves along the branches of the trees. The forest had grown a dozen times more colorful and genuinely it was the young witch's favorite time of year. True, her powers were strongest during the autumnal equinox and thereafter, but the smell of the earth and the sounds of life were what she cherished at this time.

Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in thin wisps while her blue eyes scanned the horizon. She wasn't necessarily looking for anything in particular, but as fate would have it, she'd find everything she ever needed.

Her ears twitched at the sound of a twig snapping under foot. As she turned to face the source, she was met by the barrel of a gun. She didn't say anything, nor did she panic. Instead, she took a calming breath and lifted her eyes from the ground to meet those of the predator before her.

She'd encountered hunters before, but never one like him. There was something about his eyes, like a window into his very soul, revealing things about himself that not even he knew. There was a hidden light in his darkness, that much she could see.

She tilted her head with curiosity and took a step closer, but flinched as he readjusted the gun in his hands. His breath was heavy, but there was hesitance on his face as if he'd suddenly realized something horrific.

"Why don't you run?" His voice was a low growl, resembling that of the wolves that roamed the forest.

"I know what you are," she simply replied. "What is the use of running if there is no escape? You felt no shame for my brethren when you slaughtered them mercilessly, why should I expect any differently?"

"I do not slaughter," the hunter refuted her claim. "I am a protector. A guardian."

"You and your kind are tyrants." Althea scoffed. It was clear that this hunter did not possess any true danger. He was far too intrigued by the nature of the unknown. "You trample through these woods and take more than you need and kill without reason."

"I kill in defense," the hunter insisted. The stoic anger in her expression fell as she realized that he genuinely did not believe he'd done anything wrong.

She extended a hand, which he looked at with disdain. "Come with me."

She rolled her eyes in response. Boldly, she took another step forward, gently lowered the gun, and offered her hand once more.

He took another step back. "What sort of witchery is this?"

"It's a hand." Her sarcasm was like venom as she rolled her eyes again. Rather than offer him another chance, she quickly snatched his hand in hers before he could complain and tugged him toward the woods.

She heard his voice hitch, but she did not turn her head to check on him. Instead, she pushed forward. She had once chance to change his mind and make him realize the fault of his actions. Why did she care? Her people were suffering, if she could deter one hunter from his path, it was just that many more lives of her own kind would be saved.

"Where—oomph!" She cast a glance over her shoulder without letting him know, but was immediately forced to stifle her laughter as she noticed his mouthful of leaves he was forced to spit out. It seemed in her rush, she carelessly brushed a branch out of her path and into his. He coughed and caught his breath before attempting to ask his question again. "Where are you taking me?"

She didn't reply; instead, she let Mother Nature speak for her. The wind rustled around them in playful gusts as the birds overhead sang the melodies of their hearts. She could hear the rushing brook nearby and the symphony of frogs croaking and the beating of dragonfly wings. Although the summer was coming to an end, there was a brief moment where time seemed to stand still as the seasons changed. The result was a breathtaking cascade of rose gold that painted the sky and blanketed the land in warmth before the cold touch of death could reset the world.

She could tell that the hunter was tiring as their pace slowed and he began to weigh her down, but they were too close for her to simply give up. Besides, quitting wasn't exactly a word in her vocabulary. It was only once they reached the glen that she allowed her feet to stop moving forward and rest.

He immediately took a seat on a nearby rock, panting for breath. "You're..." His sentence was interrupted with a gasp for air. "You're quicker than you look."

She ignored him for a second, pulling her hair away from her neck as she braided it before casting a sly glance over her shoulder. "And you are slower."

He seemed bemused as he chuckled under his breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sitting in the woods having a conversation with a witch."

"Enchantress."

"Pardon?"

"Enchantress," she repeated her correction. "Witches rely on the dark arts. An enchantress uses elements of the natural world."

"All the same, I shouldn't be here," the hunter replied.

"And yet you are." She took a seat on the ground before him, crossing her legs and allowing the tattered edges of her dress to sweep along the dirt. "But you're welcome to leave if you so desire."

"And you won't cast a spell or curse?" He remained skeptical as he scoffed. "I've heard enough stories to know—"

"Rumors and experience are two very different things, Monsieur..." She paused her interruption as she realized she didn't actually know his name.

"Devereaux," the hunter introduced himself with a courteous bow. "Raoul Devereaux."

She mockingly curtsied to uphold the social conventions belonging to the village folk. "Althea de Fayette."

For a brief moment, he looked smitten by the sound of her name. She offered him a curious look, and as he noticed her wrinkled nose, he shook his head and blinked free from the daze. "What is it you wished to show me, Mademoiselle de Fayette?"

"Look around. Listen. Feel." Althea instructed. "But do not use your eyes; instead use your heart. And do not use your ears, listen with your very soul. Extend your arms, lift your chin toward the heavens, and embrace Mother Nature herself."

He looked at her skeptically, but after her unamused expression proved to be unchanging, he gave in to her request. He closed his eyes and stretched out the palms of his hands.

The air was silent at first, but a quiet whistle quickly drew him in. He could hear the babbling brook and the beating wings of dragonflies. He could hear the final love song of the birds before they migrated for the winter. He could hear the melody of the forest and subconsciously began to smile as fond memories of his youth surfaced in his mind.

"Beautiful." Althea's voice didn't break the symphony, in fact he believed the opposite occurred. "Isn't it?"

Raoul opened his eyes and practically gasped aloud. Althea had stood and blocked the path of the sun, but it was the halo of light that enveloped her form that he found divine. He swore that little golden flecks sparkled from her otherwise ocean eyes.

He nodded his head, regained his footing, and cleared his throat to hide the color rising in his face. "Why are you showing me this?"

"The persecution of my kind must stop." Althea's eyes pleaded. "We simply preserve the life that Mother Nature provided that humanity insists on destroying. We are not a danger to anyone."

"I'm not sure the king would agree with you." Raoul sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Nor would any of the other members of the court."

She took his hand and turned toward the wood. She looked like a woman on a mission. "Then take me to them so I might persuade them."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Raoul quickly released her hand and moved to block her path. "You wouldn't make it past the front gate."

Her blue eyes lit up and turned into an electric gold hue. "You underestimate me."

He took a step back, lifting his hands as if to ward her off. Fear was evident in his eyes. She recognized the look on his face and the twitch of his finger as if he was searching for his gun, the gun that she'd made sure had been left behind before leading him to the glen.

"You're just like the rest of them," Althea muttered. She began to page back and forth, just a couple of steps, but enough to release the distraught energy building up in her chest. "I thought you were different from the others... Maybe I misunderstood Mother Nature's intention of guiding you onto my path."

"You..." His voice was quiet with a slightly audible tremble as his eyes lifted from the ground. "You really care about this..."

"My people are dying!" She screamed in frustration. "You think we are monsters, but it is humanity that is the real monster. They destroy everything they touch. They ravish this world then blame it on those different than themselves: 'witches', the faye, enchantresses, the beasts of the field, even their own kind at times."

"I see that now," Raoul agreed. "But going to war with humanity will only cause them to fear you more... and fear tends to bring out the worst in us."

Althea considered his words carefully. "Is there no end to the massacre?"

Raoul sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it just as quickly. His face twisted, deep in thought before lighting up. "We just need to show them that you're human."

She looked insulted. "I am not human."

"No, no. Of course not," he attempted to amend his statement. "What I meant is that we need to show people you don't mean any harm."

"We?" Althea asked, growing amused by his sudden change of heart.

He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's just say you've appealed to my humanity."

He extended his hand as if offering her something. Any previous reservations faded as she accepted the gesture, placing her slender hand in his calloused one. Neither of them admitted it, but each felt a spark of something new, something frightening, but oh so desirable. It was the start of everything to come.

———— 𖥸 ————

𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 as the memory faded. She clutched her heart and took a seat on the stool at the fireplace. The soft flames felt cold as she tugged her shawl closer around her shoulders. She lifted her eyes toward the ceiling to hold back her tears. Oh how she missed him, her Raoul.

"Mon amour." She sighed. "How I wish you were here to guide me. You always knew how to still my beating heart..."

Once calm, she rose from her seat and aimlessly wandered around the house, reflecting on the memories of the home she'd built and the home she'd dreamed of. She hummed under her breath before she spoke the words on her mind.

"How does a moment last forever?" She entered Celine's room and pulled down one of the paintings from the wall. She smiled down at it fondly, remembering the exact moment that her daughter painted it. "How can a story never die?"

"It is love we must hold onto." She glided across the room and held the early work up beside one of Celine's newest additions to the wall. "Never easy, but we try."

"Sometimes our happiness is captured. Somehow, our time and place stand still." Oh how she wished that were true. How she wanted more than anything to return to the days where her little angel was sheltered from the pain of the world. "Love lives on inside our hearts and always will."

"Minutes turn to hours, days to years then gone but when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on." Althea drifted from one room to the next, stopping beside her bed.

"Maybe some moments weren't so perfect." Althea chuckled as she paused beside the chest in her own room filled to the brim with objects she'd gone back and collected from her small family's first home. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of Raoul's journal. It was the only thing she had left to remind her of his voice. Down to each minuscule detail, the journal transcribed their every waking moment together since the moment they first met. "Maybe some memories not so sweet."

Her fingers drifted to the chain around her neck that held a small ring carved of wood. They hadn't had much, but the hunter and the enchantress had one another. Their love was enough. She could still see his sweet, smiling face as he held their daughter for the first time. Just as quickly, her memory of him shifted to the moment she found his body lying on the forest floor, cold and lifeless. Tears filled her eyes.

"But we have to know some bad times or our lives are incomplete." Her heart cried out in anguish and she fell to her knees as she clutched the sign of love hanging around her neck. Her knuckles turned white as she let her tears fall. "Then when the shadows overtake us, just when we feel all hope is gone, we'll hear our song and know once more our love lives on."

"How does a moment last forever?" Althea turned back toward the chest and lifted a small doll from the wooden crate. "How does our happiness endure?"

"Through the darkest of our troubles love is beauty, love is pure." A bittersweet smile graced her face as she remembered how strong her daughter had grown. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do to protect her little angel. Mistakes had been made in the past, but she was determined to fix them at all costs so her daughter wouldn't have to live with the same constant ache within her chest. "Love pays no mind to desolation. It flows like a river through the soul. Protects, proceeds, and perseveres and makes us whole."

"Minutes turn to hours, days to years then gone." Her smile grew just a bit brighter as she closed the chest of the past and focused on the present. Her gaze rested on Celine's paintings. In her youth, they'd been so bright, but had grown darker as she grew older. Lately though, they had returned to the vivid hues that reflected the girl's inner passion and light. "But when all else has been forgotten, still our song lives on."

She walked back across the hall to return the paintings to where they belonged as she finally believed she found peace. "How does a moment last forever when our song lives on?"

She released a gentle sigh as she pinned the painting back to the wall. The moment of bliss was short-lived. Althea lifted a curious brow as she noticed a stack of sketches hidden amongst the books along the shelf that sat just below the hung painting.

Cautiously, she pulled the paper from the knook and froze. The woods, the fence, the castle. Her hands trembled. The wolves, the torches, the blood. Her eyes hardened. The cold of winter, the doors slammed in her face, the monstrous eyes filled with fear. She remembered every excruciating detail of that night and every night before it. Her heart ached and something inside her snapped.

Her eyes glowed with fury and the paper in her hands rustled. Celine had lied. She'd been back to the castle and hidden it. Her veins turned to ice as she flipped through the sketches and stopped on the final page that depicted the beast himself. There was something about the way his eyes were drawn that Althea knew Celine saw this creature in a different light.

In a fit of rage, she tore the pages in one smooth motion.

Althea stormed toward the window and threw back the shutters. Her eyes frantically searched the air before a twisted grin formed at the sight of her desire. The sleek, ebony raven preened itself without a care in the world. Althea had no issue interrupting the ritual though as she whistled to summon it closer. The bird lifted its head as if in a trance and intently listened as the enchantress relied on magic she hadn't used in years to communicate with the creature.

"Bring me the hunter."

The raven squawked then unfurled its wings and glided toward the village tavern.