The beast paused in his silent prowl, certain that he had been silent as the grave in his mutterings. Yet the child had heard him, clear as a bell. But what shook him more was what the child had said. Not forgotten, abandoned then. But for what earthly reason could mortals have to abandon a child in his territory. The beast emerged from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. His gargantuan frame eclipsing the moon above. 

An ancient wolf skull served as the beast’s face, held on by vines and shadows. Thick fur the color of blood flowed from the edges of the skull and down the creature’s back, ending in an impossibly long tail. The tip of this thrashing appendage melted into shadows. Its body was thick and bulging with muscle. Thorny vines and plates of draconic scale covered its frame. Its long arms and legs were tipped with wicked looking claws. The only clothes the beast wore were time worn breeches, made of the leather of a long extinct animal. 

The child did not cower. They merely looked up at the beast with eyes dulled by acceptance. They were striking in the dark night of the woods. Luminous orange against snow white skin. The beast looked the child over, as best he could with the young thing wrapped tightly in a threadbare sheet. 

“Your perception is admirable, youth” The beast rumbled, his voice prompting the trees to groan and creek. The child did not respond, his disheartened gaze glued to the beast. “Tell me, why do you think you were not forgotten?” The beast said. It was not truly a question, but a command. The youth remained silent, but slowly they revealed an arm from within the tattered sheet. From the elbow to the tips of their fingers, the color darkened. From the salt white that was the same as the child’s face and into a color that resembled charcoal. The very tips of the child’s dark fingers ended in pitch black talons. 

“You are a shade” The beast said, the child’s flinch being the only confirmation he needed. “Your sires prayed for your return, and were answered.” The beast growled, his building rage spreading to the groaning trees. “And this is their response? to forswear a boon granted?” The darkness deepened around them, faintly illuminated by the distant moon and the dim glow of the child’s eyes. The child shivered with fear. It was that shiver that paused the beast’s fury, for the moment. 

Here before him was one blessed by the gods of the dark, gifted with a second life. They were sacred, blessed, remarkable, and most importantly they were frightened. The darkness around them receded as the beast settled on his haunches. A talon reached out, but did not touch the child. They were scared, but were an impeccable actor. Now that they were closer, the beast could see the slight tremble the child had. As a shade, the child could not feel the cold. This was fear, plain and simple. The sheet wrapped around them was stained by dirt and bile. Disgust rose up in the beast’s throat as he realized. It was their burial cloth. 

“Be still, child,” The beast said in a hushed tone, “No harm shall find you in my woods” Another command, this time to the wood itself. The trees shivered in the wind, nodding their agreement. Eyes peeked out of the underbrush, taking stock of their new charge. “How long has it been since you were awakened?” the beast asked. The child stared at the beast, eyes working to take in his every detail. It hesitated before it spoke.

“Only a little while, maybe an hour or two?” The child said. The beast’s chest rumbled with renewed rage. The child’s parents had prayed for a miracle, their child had clawed their way from the earth, revived. Only to be tossed aside with barely time for them to understand what had happened. There would be retribution, but that was for later. For now, it was the child that mattered. The beast offered a clawed hand to the child. 

“Come with me, child, I shall take you somewhere safe. We shall discuss your future in my woods in the morning.” The beast said. The child took the beast’s outstretched hand, and with his help stood on shaky feet. Their dark hair hid much of their face as the burial cloth began to slip. The beast fastened the cloth around the child before gently leading them to the tree line. “What is your name, child?” the beast asked as they walked toward the hidden path to his home. 

“Lumin,” the child said quietly, “what’s yours?” The beast chuckled as they entered the darkness of the woods. 

“My name is not important, you may call me Father, if you wish.” He rumbled. The wood pulsed in jubilation. The king had an heir, and the wood would protect them.