Chapter 2: Liadrin

"Girl, clean that up right now - get to it!" The portly woman shouted as she threw the rag into the soapy bucket.

Liadrin - already on the ground and bruised from the fist that had slammed into her face - shuffled over to her own blood stain on the floor. She reached into the bucket and glimpsed her reflection in the soapy water for but an instant. Other than the gash upon her cheek, she was a plain young woman on the verge of becoming an adult.

Her brown hair and eyes were not particularly notable. To the whole world, and herself, she was just a regular, average person. As she pulled out the rag and began to clean, her tormentor walked away. At least she didn't hit me twice, she thought as she scrubbed away at the floor. Tomorrow I get away.

She had been planning her escape from her home for the past three months. Her bags were packed and hidden away. After the last customers at the tavern left, she would close up shop and leave. The thought of her impending escape drove her onward to scrub with more ferocity.

The thoughts of escaping her tormentor also goaded her onwards to not just scrub her own bloodstain, but to also scrub clean the whole store room. After finishing her duties, she left through the kitchen - past her abusive mother and drunkard father, both in a heated argument - and opened the back door.

The small backyard was much quieter compared to the chaos behind her and despite being in the middle of the trade district of Ghelard. She breathed in the sweet scent of the small herb garden she kept; the one small luxury her mother allowed her under the excuse that it was to help the family business. She dumped the soapy water into a small tub.

No more emptying you in a few hours, she thought with a small smile. She glanced around the garden at the surrounding walls, including eyeing the locked gate at the back that led to an alley; quick access to the outer market district. It was locked by a heavy iron chain, but some bars had been painstakingly loosened by her hands.

"Girl! Stop ogling the walls and get in here!" The shrill voice shouted from the door.

"I have a name," Liadrin whispered to herself. She mustered up the strength for one more night of working to the bone with a smile on her face for their patrons.

Evening came and went as Liadrin ran all around the tavern, serving ale and surprisingly decent food. Her father may be a drunkard, but he was one amazing chef, drunk or not. She was, as usual, groped by several of the slovenlier customers.

Liadrin took all of the harassment with grace, always mindful of her mother's watchful eye from behind the bar. Being near the age of adulthood - twenty years of age in her home city - she was also being asked over and over if "She was committed to a man," at which she just shrugged and pointed at her shrew of a parent. "Ask her," was always Liadrin's response.

Suffice to say, most men did not push the issue after seeing the eternally upset face of the owner. The main reason people came was for the food. As the last customer left Liadrin set about to her closing duties as her parents retired. She left the drunkards lying on the floor where they fell; her father was generous enough in that regard.

She set down the last of the utensils into the wash-basin, ensuring to stay up slightly later than usual until she was sure her tormentor was asleep. It's time, she thought as she went behind the stove and grabbed her two satchels of supplies along with an empty burlap sack.

She set to filling this up with all of the less perishable foodstuffs she could find. The finishing touch was a small letter to her father; the only one of her parents who actually showed a little bit of care towards her. She hid it next to his secret jug of moonshine before slipping out the back door.

She crept along in the darkness - the dim light of the half-moon overhead giving her just enough to see by. She muscled the worn-down bar out of the way and squeezed through the small gap, pulling her supplies after her.

The journey to the postern gate was a short one but she didn't know many of the guards. My first challenge, she thought as she changed her pace to a calmer and less-hurried one.

"Good evening! Beautiful night, isn't it?" she asked in an upbeat manner.

The two guards in the gate house turned towards her. One was a more grizzled gentleman who seemed more veteran. He tipped his helmet, "Evening, miss. Bit late to be out, eh?"

Liadrin nodded, "I wanted to get an early start."

The younger, bigger one showed up, "I'm sorry? This early?"

"Well…I couldn't sleep," Liadrin lied, "So I figured I'd just start early."

The younger guard stood up, waving to the veteran who nodded as some unsaid communication passed between them. He approached Liadrin with a hand on the sheathed sword on his hip. His scale armor clinked gently as he stopped in front of her. Closer up he was handsome, dashing, even, with a chiseled jaw seemingly carved from marble. "I don't think someone like you should be out all alone, why don't you let me help you get back home?"

"I don't want to go back!" Liadrin shouted more forcefully than she intended as her unbridled emotion came out.

He shook his head, "As a guard it's my duty to keep you safe." He closed the distance between them and gripped her shoulders, shoving her back against the wall. She let out a grunt as the breath was knocked out from her chest. The guard reached a hand down towards her thigh and she instinctively kicked upwards right into his crotch. She winced in pain at her mistake as apparently, he was also wearing armor down below.

"Now, that wasn't nice," he growled in her ear, pinning her to the wall as she struggled in his grip. "I guess you're not a nice girl, eh? Guess I need to take you to jail for the night…but first." He continued to run his hands along her body.

"No! Stop!" Liadrin screamed out, feeling a helpless desperation as the sensation of being trapped - just like at home - welled up within her. "I just want to leave!" She cried out.

"No getting- what?" The guard began to speak but stopped all movement before he cried out in pain and horror, wrenching his body away from hers as the metal upon him melted and began to fuse into his skin. He collapsed to the ground in horror, his voice gurgling as he continued to melt until naught was left but a puddle of flesh and liquified metal, still boiling and hissing.

Liadrin screamed and ran - past the guard post with the veteran guard who was just emerging - and yanked back the bolt on the postern gate, fleeing into the night. She kept running into the darkness as her vision began to slowly change.

The night began to glow in subtle shades of red; and she felt warm, as if the blood pumping through her veins was on fire. She stopped at the small river a half-mile away from the gates, flinging off her bags and dunking herself into the water. Steam rose all around her as she breached the surface. Slowly the temperature cooled and she stood in the shallows.

What was that? she thought as she looked around for some hooded figure, some cloaked shadow, some…mage who was responsible. She looked down and horror shook her as the realization hit her in waves.

Her forearms down to the hands were covered in crimson, overlapping scales like armor. Where her fingertips once were, instead black claws glimmered. The same was true of her knees down to her feet, where her toes were replaced with the same wicked claws - there was no trace of her shoes remaining.

She walked onto shore and dug through the bags gingerly, removing a small, silver mirror - one of several valuables she had stolen from her mother's stash. She slowly raised it, afraid of what she would see, and a gasp escaped her lips.

She was…beautiful. Almost completely otherworldly, save for the slanted red eyes and large mane of crimson hair. "I'm a beast-cursed," she whispered as the mirror fell from her grip. She had heard the tales as a child, as had every child.

‘Behave and obey your parents, or else you will become cursed; doomed to take on the appearance of a beast and wander the lands.'

Is this because I ran away? she thought. Was I supposed to just…take their abuse until they married me off for money? She looked back at the city she had abandoned. All she had ever known and wanted to escape from for years.

The dark landscape stood out to her in stark hues of red. It was clear enough to her that she could make out the small mass of shapes approaching the river with speed - their lanterns flickering here and there through the small hills and dells. She gathered up her things and fled to the only place she could think to lose them - The Scorch Wood.

It’s not my home anymore.

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