The city of Utrecht, 1572.

Godelieve really wasn’t sure what to feel as she descended the steps to the brewery’s cellar. On one hand, she figured she should feel honored to have such an important task bestowed upon her. Though, on the other hand, there was a very real chance that her townspeople had actually sent her to a painful death.

The entire ordeal had started when a brewster had gone down into the cellar of her brewery to fetch a barrel of ale for the innkeeper next door. When she didn’t return after a while, her husband made his way down to see what was taking his wife so long.

A scream was heard by the innkeeper. He, too, ventured down into the cellar, only to find the brewster and her husband lying dead, smoke still rising from empty eye sockets. He hurried up the stairs, bolting the door behind him before gathering the town’s inhabitants.

Somehow, a basilisk had snuck into the brewery and decided to make the cellar its nest. That couldn’t stand, but nobody had ever slain a basilisk before. People had no choice but to simply wait for the beast to grow bored and leave, usually leaving dozens of victims in its wake. Many ideas were thrown around at the town meeting. The beekeeper spoke of smoking the creature out, the locksmith spoke of starving it. But Godelieve had a different idea.

"Why doesn't someone just use a big mirror?" she asked aloud, only to be met with a long pause from her townspeople. "I mean, if it can kill by looking people in the eye, wouldn't looking at itself kill it?" she suggested. Godelieve had to admit, her idea was simple and issues surrounding this kind of creature were rarely simple. But it was worth trying, wasn't it?

"I think that's a fantastic idea, Godelieve." Mayor Jan-Hendrik Hartgerink said. "I shall get you the largest mirror we have. You should go as soon as possible."

And so, here she was, slowly descending the narrow stairs. Torch in one hand, knife in the other, just to be sure, and a huge mirror strapped to her chest. It was heavy and very hard to walk with. If Godelieve were completely honest with herself, she figured the beast would sooner die from laughter than anything else.

The closer to the bottom of the stairs Godelieve came, the more he heard the basilisk. At first, it was just the beast shuffling around. Then, slowly, she heard it murmuring. It seemed to be talking to itself, using human words.

When Godelieve looked down, she didn’t need to look far for the brewster and her husband. They lay by the outer wall, eyelids closed and fingers interlocked. Had the basilisk granted them this decency?

When Godelieve came to the bottom of the stairs, she snuck around as silent as humanly possible. Until her foot collided with a cork lying on the ground, sending it flying into an empty copper drum.

A head snapped up at the very back of the cellar. "Who's there?!" It demanded as the sound from the drum still reverberated off the walls.

Godelieve hid behind the mirror as quickly as he could, shielding herself from the basilisk's fatal gaze. 'Shit,' she thought. Now that the creature had spotted her, she would be forced to engage, slimming her chances of making it out of there alive significantly.

"What is that?" It mumbled as it made a beeline for the mirror between the barrels. When the footsteps stopped, there was a long pause.

Godelieve could only guess it was checking itself out. Judging from the fact that she hadn't heard the distinct 'thud' of a body hitting the floor yet, it was safe to assume that the beast was still very much alive. And she, soon, would not be.

She had no idea what kind of curiosity overcame her when she peeked around the frame of the mirror. Perhaps she just wanted to know what killed her. Probably.

Godelieve was surprised with what he saw. The creature seemed to have the face of a young woman, with fine feathers where most young women would have hair. The feathers became larger the further down her torso and wings they grew. Her lower half, however, was more reptilian, with course scales covering her legs and tail. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark as her primary feathers came up to touch her face. Godelieve was just as speechless as the basilisk seemed to be.

The expression on the creature’s face went from wonder to profound sadness in less than a second. "You came here to kill me, didn't you?" she asked quietly, addressing Godelieve without so much as glancing her way.

The question had taken Godelieve so off-guard that she had to take a break and really think about his answer. If she said yes, the creature might retaliate and kill her. However, her chances of going back were minute as they were, and her mother raised no liar. "Yes," she answered simply.

"This thing," the creature said, tapping the mirror with her clawed foot, "was clever, though. I've never seen anything like it before."

"I… It was my idea." Godelieve muttered. "Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome. Now, it was nice to get to talk for once, but shouldn't you get on with it? Here, I'll even close my eyes for you."

Slowly, Godelieve stood up. The creature really had closed her eyes. Her neck was exposed. Killing her should be so easy, and yet it was so difficult. Godelieve sighed. "You're lonely, aren't you?"

The basilisk jolted, her eyes fluttered but remained unopened. "Yes..." she mumbled.

"You killing the brewster and her husband, that was an accident, right?" Godelieve asked again.

"They surprised me! I didn't mean to hurt them," she said quietly, voice breaking.

Slowly, Godelieve pulled the basilisk into a gentle embrace. "I'm sorry… I can't imagine what it must be like..."

Godelieve wasn't sure it was what she said or the physical contact, but the creature in her arms started shaking. Sobbing even. Godelieve pulled back to find tears rolling from her still closed eyes.

“I shan’t kill you,” Godelieve said resolutely, pulling away from the embrace.

“What?”

“I shan’t kill you. I’ll see to it that no one will,” she repeated as she picked the knife up from the dusty floor and used it to tear a strip of cloth from her apron.

The creature flinched at the sound.

“There’s no need to be afraid,” Godelieve said as she approached the creature again. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she mumbled, wrapping the cloth around her head. Carefully, she tied the ends together at the back of the basilisk's head, smoothing down the feathers there with her fingers. They were the softest thing Godelieve had ever felt. “What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one. I’m just me.”

Godelieve smiled. “Then ‘Me’ is what I’ll call you. Let us go,” she said, placing a guiding hand just above Me’s tail.

“Go where?”

“Up,” Godelieve said. “Outside.”

Me turned to Godelieve, frowning.

Godelieve stroked the feathers at the small of her back in a reassuring gesture. “There’s no need to be afraid. I’ll protect you,” she said. Me had no way of seeing the knife gleaming in her hand. Maybe that was a good thing. “If it’s up to me, you’ll never be lonely again.”

Me let out a sigh and nodded. She was ready. As ready as she would ever be.

Godelieve went up the steps, Me following close behind her, and opened the door.

The light of day was blinding.