“A Righteous Monster”
By Hemming Sebastian Bane (CW: vomit, blood, cannibalism, violence against children)

Rot fell to her knees and retched, tears streaking down her face. Clear liquid coated the blades of grass. She punched the ground. Why?! Why did she have to do that?! Rot coughed and gagged as her stomach settled. The redheaded inquisitor laid down, away from her vomit, and sobbed.

A few days ago, she had arrived at a place she barely remembered: St. Nikolaus’s Orphanage. Tobias had told her that there should be some record of who her parents were there. Rot was unsure that she had met Father Agil before, but he seemed cordial enough. He had introduced her to the orphans: twelve children ranging from fourteen to five. Rot got to know them by name as they introduced themselves. Aloisia. Yara. Baishan. Gerlinde. Hagen. Wapasha. Gouyen. Jochen. Kriemhilde. Tiriaq. Naiche. Meinrad. She could help but see herself in them.

Agil had unlocked a cluttered mess of a room, almost filled wall to wall with loose papers. It had taken Rot most of the day to search. Occasionally one of the children would come in and either ask a few questions or help her for a little bit. Thanks to them, she had found it: the note from when she was dropped off on the orphanage’s steps. Rot had thanked Father Agil and tried to leave, but the priest insisted that she have dinner with them. Rot foolishly said yes.

At the dinner table, Rot had thought she smelled something familiar. It wasn’t until Father Agil came out with the dish that Rot confirmed her belief in horror. A golden-skinned roasted human. Rot leaped from her seat, shaking her head. One of the younger children tugged on her pants leg to calm her down. Rot’s heart felt shattered as she realized to the children, this was normal.

She killed the younger children first. It would be cruel to prolong their suffering. Some of the older children fought back, but ultimately fell to the might of Rot’s claws. She killed them all without fail.

Where she laid, Rot clasped her bloodied hands and prayed to Asena for their forgiveness.

What We Can’t Forget
By L. L. Marco

Devlin opened his bleary eyes, finding a dark, small room. Various childrens toys lay scattered across the floor. Several dolls with blank, judging eyes watched him, slumped against the walls. One was propped in his lap. Stuffed animals hung from the ceiling, their stitching ripped open to reveal fluffy innards.

Wallpaper that had once been pink had peeled and greyed, flaking off in piles that lay untouched on the floor. The dust in the air was thick and the only light that dared shine was a sliver from the boarded up window.

A wicked, unnatural energy permeated the room. He wanted to run, but when he tried to stand he found himself tied tightly to a child’s chair by the same rope he’d packed in his bag earlier that night. The man twisted and turned, but tried as he might, the binds wouldn’t budge. His eyes frantically flew about the room, desperately trying to piece together any memory of how he’d gotten here. The last thing he remembered was getting ready for his ‘date’ with the little girl from the bus, and then… nothing.

A woman emerged from the shadows. She was petite with the prettiest black hair he’d seen in a long while. It felt… familiar, somehow. Like a ghost long passed. She watched him silently, her cold blue eyes alive with hatred.

Wait. That hair, this room… It had been years, but he’d never forget the room of his first victim. They looked alike, but he’d never mistake his little love for her tainted older sister who stood before him.

She circled him. His eyes nervously followed her, sweat beading along his forehead. When she circled back, a glint of metal caught the light. A knife. But Devlin wasn’t looking at that. No, his eyes were locked on what followed behind her. An apparition with one arm rotted to bone and a rose blooming from its eye. The ghoul reached down and faded its skeletal hand into the woman’s, their fingers curled together with the same desire. They slowly raised the blade.

“Hello Devlin. We never forgot you.”

What Happened to Ella
by Carrie (Glaceon373)

This was the end, she knew it.

Ella knew the myths, she knew the stories. She read the story books aloud to her younger brothers, watching them scream with joy at the triumph over evil, no matter how gruesome it was. She knew what happened to the people—the creatures—like her.

She had always feared that one day she would wake up and be a monster. An unlikely occurrence, merely the source of nightmares, but whatever “that day” was never left her mind. It was today, her scale-tainted reflection seemed to sneer at her.

She had to run away. Run away far, run where no one would know her and no one would expect to look for her. But also somewhere that wouldn’t kill her on sight.

She couldn’t think of any such place. But that didn’t matter.

Ella ran to the kitchen, grabbing a random loaf of bread. The noise she was making was enough to rival a flock of angry geese, but she didn’t care. Let her family try to stop her, only to see what she’d become. They would never dare think of her again.

She heard someone enter the kitchen just as she opened the front door. She didn’t stop. She just had to go where they couldn’t hurt her, and where she couldn’t hurt them.

She didn’t bother closing the door behind her. She simply broke into a sprint.

Someone was chasing her, calling her name. She didn’t turn. The town gate wasn’t much farther, then she’d just follow the road until it ended, then—

She tripped, hitting the dirt with a thud.

“Ella! ELLA!” The voice caught up to her. She recognized her father’s voice. “Ella, are you—”

She looked up at him, her dark scales shining in the sun like wet ink splotches.

Her father froze. She waited for him to stagger away in fear, or scream in terror, or even pull out some hidden knife.

But he didn’t. Instead, he helped her up from the ground and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Everything is gonna be okay, Ella.”

She burst into tears.

Rain Falling in the Night
By TheAssassin

The faint trickle of muffled rainfall echoed in the distance. I could hear its constant, rhythmic song: a lullaby for a sleeping world. But I did not sleep. Instead, I sat before a desk laden with work in a dim room.

I sighed and put down my pen. Sleep crept upon my heart, beginning its slow strangle of my senses. I dearly wished to finish my work, but I could not.

I leaned back in my chair and breathed. I just breathed.

Stillness.

The world, so usually drowned in stress, worry, and fretful deadlines, slept. Despite the urgency of my work, I felt no rush. The night seemed an eternal moment, stretched endlessly into time.

I rose and stretched my tired muscles. No one protested, for who could? I was alone with the night, the sole patron of its peaceful quietude.

I went to the window, leaned against its ledge, and gazed upon the night. The moon rose like a pale ghost haunting a lonely sky, overlooking an empty street, steady rain, and dark clouds drifting ever on.

The frenzy of the waking world seemed so distant, somewhere beyond the comforting darkness, beyond the cool rain, and beyond the silence.

I lost myself gazing into the night. I lost myself to the rain and the darkness. Such a strange thing to be entranced by a sleeping world. To know life goes on without trembling under its scrutiny. To know all those things feared in the day remain, but to be spared from their bite. To feel truly alone in a world full of people.

To feel peace.

But even as I stood, caught by the night, I knew it would not last. A growing feeling of dread poisoned my heart, stained the moment.

What I would give to be taken by the rain, to walk into its embrace: totally consumed.

Alas, the world’s claws sunk deep, and my sleeplessness would not last. I gave the night a last, long look and then returned into the inferno.

And the flames consumed me.

But the rain still fell.

Shadows hanging over the soul
by Gage Jarman

“You shouldn’t have came.” My father’s eyes were broken with guilt as I unlocked his shackles with a burst of arcane shadow.

“I couldn’t leave you here!”

“Do you know— this was too big of a risk!”

“It was mine to make!”

“If it means you might die, then I don’t deserve to be saved!”

“You’re more worthy than any of those above us!”

“No!…” Memories flashed across his face. “No, You don’t know the weight I’ve borne.”

“And that means you should waste away in some zealot’s dungeon?” Tears trailed down my cheeks.

“It’s atonement.”

“But what about me? Aren’t you supposed to guide me? To teach me how to stand up and fight and be true to myself?… It’s too cruel. You’re the last sliver that remains of my old world.”

“I’m not a perfect man. I’ve failed over and over again in my life…”

I shook my head. “I don’t care.”

“No, you need to listen to this. Once, I sought glory and believed in the cause with my whole being, there was a village. It was corrupted by the dark. Sullied beyond saving. The crops were plentiful and tainted. We didn’t give them repentance… There was a child playing a knight with a wooden sword.” His face contorted in anguish before me. I wrapped my arms around the emaciated man.

“Oh, by the light, I slaughtered him with a smile on my face. I watched the light leave his. Those pitiful mewlings for salvation, they’re a part of me. I’ve done the best I can with these bloody hands.

“It’s almost funny the way life mocks you because I’m glad it happened. I hate myself for it, but I never would have met your mother otherwise. I never would have made you. ” My father gave a pained grin. I helped him to his feet and lent my shoulder. He was so frail.

“Come on. We’re going home.”

“Do you think differently of me?”

“I don’t know. I never knew that man. He wasn’t my father.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled, letting his first tear fall.

The Bloodsucker And The Wormeater (Nyx’s Story)
By Calliope Rannis

Nyx was in a miserable mood. Sure, her seat was soft and comfortable, and the setting sun outside was beautiful – but it just made her feel worse. Instead she just sat listlessly, slowly scraping her sharp black nails against the wood of her chair, watching how it splintered and peeled away.

It felt like she was there for a long time, wallowing in her gloom. And yet the light had barely dimmed before she heard footsteps approaching her, with the familiar rustle of crude, scratchy clothes.

“So. What was it this time, my dear?”

“Nothing important Louise,” she replied sullenly.

“That scream I heard told me a very different story, dear.”

Nyx looked up, her hazel eyes meeting with the mismatched irises of her companion. One was a dark leafy green, the other purple as a bruise, set within a face of vivid pink skin, a shock of ragged white hair, and a crown of horns grown from her skull.

Louise’s expression was stern, but her eyes were worried. That genuine concern was enough for Nyx to relent. “Look, I was just,” she gestured to a book flung onto the table before her, “trying to read. That’s all it was.”

An understanding nod. Then a flash of anger. “Fie to that book! It always hurts you like this.”

“That’s hardly the book’s fault.” Nyx looked down at herself again.

More rustling, a creak of the chair, a gentle weight on her lap, and a hand lifted her cold chin up to meet Louise’s eyes once more, now only inches from her own.

“I can tell you a story, if you need one.”

“You don’t need to read me the book-”

“Hah! No, not THAT story. I will tell a story once told by my mothers,” she replied, as her fingers stroked Nyx’s fangs. “A spoken story, that lives and wriggles and leaps. Not some dead tale stuck within leaves and leather.”

Their foreheads touched, and Nyx felt the welcome pricking of horns against her scalp.

“I think I would like that very much, Louise,” she said with a toothy smile.

“Free Boundaries”
By Constellasphere

A call of freedom rang through the night air as a beat up convertible sped down the country road, breaking through the otherwise silent night. The weather was perfect for a summer night and the sky was alight by the moon and stars; all the more reason to travel. 

Nero smiled as Saor pulled himself up and sat down on the back of the vehicle, spreading his arms wide and closing his eyes. His black hair reminded him of the night sky as it blew wildly in the wind, and the feathers that were beginning to grow back on his chest and arms flowed beautifully. It’d been a few months since he’d seen the Avian look so excited, so…free. These night drives were their escape, the only time they could simply exist without judgement. 

“Stretch your wings out, babe!” Nero shouted over the rushing air, glancing up at his love. A nervous look crossed his face, and Saor was quick to glance at the world around them. But once the man confirmed that they were alone and no one else was around this late at night, a relieved sigh came from him. 

Saor’s smile was beautiful; he rarely showed it when he was forced to stay inside due to the features that were too difficult to hide. And when he fully embraced the appendages he had been ostracized for all his life, Nero couldn’t describe how beautiful he was. 

Black wings sprouted from his back, bursting out in a flurry of obsidian feathers. They reached upwards, the very tips pointing to the heavens, seemingly touching the stars above. In the bright moonlight, they were illuminated. 

The Avian flapped his wings, his eyes opening once more and landing on Nero. “Hey, focus on the road!” He chided, his face flushing a bit when he realized the man was staring at him. 

“Sorry, you’re just so beautiful when you let loose.” Saor said nothing in response, simply fluttering his wings and looking away. 

“But I’m a monster…” 

“Monstrously gorgeous-” 

“I won’t hesitate to slap you.”