Beloved Beast

Chapter Fifty-One

Don stepped completely into the firelight, and her heartbeat soared as the shadows receded further, revealing his face in its entirety.

            For an awe-stricken breath, Elle stared in utter amazement at the staggering disparities of his appearance, detailing the lives of two very different men.

            Shockingly, the left side of his countenance was devoid of deformities, barring a dark brow diced in half by a vicious scar, revealing a facet of strong, faultless features that were positively breathtaking.

            But the ride side --- a startling vision of seething, mutilated skin – illustrated the horrors engendered by a poisonous love gone terribly awry.

            It proved just how ruthless Sera could be. She purposefully left one side of his face unscathed, undoubtedly, to serve as a harsh reminder of what he had lost. This way, he would mourn his comely visage and former life, where he had likely stolen the hearts of many winsome maidens, while the right side had been fashioned indicatively to steal Don's peace.

            But the one remarkable feature that stood out from the rest, seizing her rapt attention, was the unique color of his eyes. As she stared in wonder at those pale and arresting irises, they soon struck a familiar chord, stirring a transient dream to memory. No, not a dream, Elle gathered quickly as the vivid details floated to her unbidden.

            Reality slipped away in a lulling darkness, but through a narrow window, a glowing object gleamed in the night sky, its color a mystery to her.

                She held fast to the mystifying image, finding herself back on that rocky cliffside, her heavy eyes fixated on the mysterious object that hung aloft in a vast above of glinting specks, realizing that the bright entity that had followed her into oblivion... had been the moon.

            The moon is what illuminates the night. It can take many shapes. Elle could remember her mother explaining to her as a young girl when she questioned its existence. At the time, she had no idea what the moon or illuminate meant conceptually. She had no way of seeing it in her mind's eyes or knowing just how beautiful it could be, that is, until it appeared to her in the dark heavens, so still and incredibly enchanting, just before she lost consciousness.

            Her learning eyes recognized a striking likeness shining back at her, only they burned hot like the fire at his back, aglow with spitting embers of variable intensity. She flushed beneath their burning trajectory as they glided over her, leaving no part of her tingling flesh untouched.

            Beneath heavy eyelids, his fitful eyes peaked through a wealth of thick, tousled hair, so dark that it resembled her own coloring. Falling past his ears, the ends curled just above his broad shoulders, whereas several untidy strands framed his forehead, lending him a softening quality that his strong, malformed features would otherwise combat were it not for those rebellious locks.

            Her fingers itched to brush them away from his furrowed brow, the distinct scar there made more severe by the traces of blood that splattered his profile.

            Like a flitting moth beguiled by a dancing flame, a tentative step brought her closer to him, her tremulous breath the only sound to manifest in the loaded silence of the room as the delicious heat radiating from his imposing body enveloped her.

            Having heard the phrase mentioned briefly in passing, she never understood its true meaning until that moment.

            Did the moth know that it was chasing danger? That what it coveted most would ultimately result in a premature end? Its deadly error would prove as fleeting and light as its mad, little wings. And when that forbidden flame hissed a smoking homage to its dying breath, reducing its tiny life --- and likewise, its fondness for the flame to ruined remains --- it would thus be scattered to a dismal space and henceforth forgotten.