The crimson red shone dimly at the lights of the candles, tears kept evaporating at they rolled down his face from his blue eyes, skin hot as fire, hard as stone. And there she was, kneeling in front of him, her hands trembling as she reached for his cheeks, he could see her pale skin growing red with pain as her hands touched his scolding scales, she could barely hold it for a few seconds, her hands where burnt and dry, and her tears where big trails that went from her round black eyes to the tip of her chin.
Those big black eyes stared at him, crushing him inside out, yet not a single movement did he made, he wasn’t made of stone, but he wasn’t master of his body anymore. She finally closed them, those big black eyes where gone and the world was gone with them. The candle went out, and he heard the footsteps grow faint in the creaking wood and then they where gone, he waited in silence, until he could no longer feel her heart beat either.
And the scales spread inside him, and the last stand of the man was gone, as the blood of the beast burnt through his veins and raced for man’s kingdom, soft and fragile we are outside, but for the beast the strength of his heart had proven an impenetrable bastion, yet our strength is our greatest weakness, as it clings to that which can be gone with the flicker of a candle. And the scales made ground in his heart, and the beast vanished the human to lands unknown.
Flames crept out of his nose trills, small bursts of yellow fire freed themselves from the captivity of that hard fortress, and the flames claimed a wooden floor for their own, and they multiplied and thrived in the dryness, the crimson red shone harder than before, bright and reflective, and his blue eyes stared at the fire at is devoured everything around him, and those blue eyes closed as well.
The eyelids separated once again and yellow circles decorated with a slender black scar shone, fierce, proud. And the flames had claimed every inch of the kingdom of men, and the beast could smell through fiery nostrils, skin and hair and blood burning, and an essence sweet an soft burnt along the remains, the beast was not the man but the memories they shared, and the beast knew why the heart lost it’s fight.
One last tear rolled down his hot skin, surviving the scolding touch as if made of ice, that brave tear kept going, through countless scales and gaps it left a small glimmer of hope on it’s way, a story to be told. It finally stopped at the place in which the last bastion of humanity was lost, the droplet bursts and for a second it shone with the light of a blue sun, and where the drop felt there was not the skin of the beast but that of the human.
Forever will the beast live with the hope of the human he once fought, carved in it’s body will be the dreams of man and woman, it’s pride will never forget that man never truly lost, and fire will not cleanse the sweet smell of love, through the skies it will flight and on the world of man never shall the beast set eyes again.
As long as hope lives.
