Prologue
It was dark.
The sun had been down for a few hours now and the moon was the only light that allowed him to see.
He was on the ground, lying next to a woman. The woman wore a beautiful white dress. Her hair was black as the night, and her face was pale.
The only thing that was not beautiful about her was a red bloodstain around her heart.
His eyes were full of tears at the sight of the lifeless body of his wife.
He felt the monster inside of him trying to take over again, as it jerked his body violently. He let out a muffled scream of pain and sadness, clenching his fists. He felt his teeth getting sharper as shadows around him started getting thicker, but he used all of his strength to suppress it.
There was something else… but he couldn’t remember what. Then, he heard crying of a small child - his child.
He needed to get her to safety. He stood up shakily, blood all over his hands. How did he end up here? He had become something he vowed to destroy.
The crying was coming from close by, seemingly from a bush. His wife had tried to hide the baby from the monster by sacrificing herself.
He felt another jerk from the inside, and he fell to the ground, gripping the grass while trying to sustain his screams of pain.
He could never control it, only supress it, but it could control him. He stood up once more, wiping his eyes with a bloody hand. He staggered over to the bush.
There in the bushes was a small baby girl. She had locks of raven black hair sprouting from her head. Opening her bright green eyes, her crying stopping immediately and she looked up at him with a smile.
He smiled too, but tears streamed down his face. What had he done?
He picked up the child, whispering soothing words until it fell asleep.
He needed to get her away from him, because he was dangerous. Keeping her with him was out of the question.
There was a village nearby. Stone Tooth. He could leave her there, go to the Outlands, and get as far away from her as possible.
***
He knocked on the door of a blacksmith’s house. He had heard good things about the man who owned it, and he might agree to take her in.
Suddenly, footsteps were heard, along with crying of another baby.
The blacksmith opened the door.
“How can I help you?” he asked, ignoring the blood all over the man’s clothes. The stranger had a small child in his arms that was slightly bigger than his child was, with raven hair, while his own child had blonde hair.
“Take this child and raise it as your own. I beg you,” he answered, feeling his monster trying to break free again.
After thinking for a few seconds, the blacksmith took in the condition of his late night guest and knew he had to help.
“Give the child to me. I will take her.”
“Raise her well.”
