Monsterland Mayhem (Fairy Tales With A Monstrous Twist)

1. Ailsa

1

AILSA

Drink me.

The two words are inscribed in blood-like lettering along the rim of a golden chalice.

Nothing ominous about that.

Nothing at all.

I twist my fingers in front of me, my hands suddenly clammy. I’ve seen this ceremony performed a thousand times before, but this time I’m the focus of the ritual.

Me. The human servant. Ailsa Marvel .

It’s no wonder the pews are empty.

No one expects anything from me other than fresh linen and the occasional warm meal.

Yet the Silver King requires everyone—including powerless mortals—to accept this drink on their twenty-first birthday.

“Anyone can be an Omega,” his edict claimed. “Therefore, everyone must be tested.”

Thus far, no one in my district has ever been an Omega. From what I understand, they’re extremely rare. So rare that they may even be extinct.

Hence the requirement to drink .

A shiver traverses my spine, the hairs along my neck standing on end. It’s eerie here, so chilly and lifeless. Filling it with people didn’t seem to matter; this place just exudes death .

Yet that has never stopped me from watching the ceremony of others. Some morbid part of me has always been fascinated by this practice, wondering if I’ll ever see a true Omega.

That fascination shifted focus when Master Pillar arrived, replacing our old Master of Ceremonies. While he led the ritual in the same way as his predecessor, there was something about his voice that captivated me. His deep and powerful baritone has stayed with me since the first day I heard him speak two years ago.

Sometimes I even hear him in my dreams.

I’ve looked forward to this day for months, fantasizing about hearing him say my name in that lush voice of his.

Yet now that I’m kneeling before the altar, I’m not all that enthused with the process.

It’s usually much faster than this. But, of course, Master Pillar chose today to be late.

Why would he bother being on time for such an unimportant member of society?

Other than me and two sentries, the entire venue is vacant.

My knees ache, the marble floor harsh against my bare skin. My blue-and-white ceremonial dress barely covers the tops of my thighs, leaving my long legs feeling oddly exposed.

It was a dress meant for another woman. A hand-me-down from Baroness Clarice.

“Quick, put it on and make haste,” she hissed at me earlier.

There was no pomp and circumstance for my birthday. No glorious gifts or hair updos or makeup. Just a used ritual gown designed for someone five inches shorter than me, and a pair of old blue flats that bit at my heels and scrunched my toes.

I fidget, uncomfortable.

Which causes Sentry Pinka to clear her throat in warning.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve been kneeling here for over an hour. I’m expected to wait here for as long as it takes.

I swallow and bow my head once more.

My morning chores will soon become afternoon chores, which means I’ll be working late tonight.

Poor Beast , I think, sighing inside. He’s always waiting for me to bring him scraps from dinner.

Usually bones and discarded meats.

He’s my pet wolf—if there is such a thing. I met him during one of my many visits to the neighboring forest. At first, I thought he meant to eat me. But all he did was nudge me away from a particularly thorny bush. Then he accompanied me on my trek.

I thought it was a fluke.

Until he met me by the same bush the following night.

And the night after that, too.

By the fifth encounter, I was prepared and brought him food.

That started a little over two years ago, right around my nineteenth birthday. Now I visit him every night.

I hoped to spend a few extra hours with him tonight, to celebrate my birthday.

Alas…

“Where is she?” a deep voice booms, causing me to stiffen.

Master Pillar.

An air of smoky tendrils curls around me, preceding his arrival. I pick up on that scent every time he enters this chapel, his presence an intoxicating claim to my senses.

“She’s here, sire,” Sentry Pinka says, her voice breathy.

Everyone in our district reacts this way to Master Pillar. He’s seen as a deity, his fiery magic palpable even to me. But I don’t dare look upon his face. I’ve heard it’s quite beautiful, almost impossibly so. Baroness Clarice and her daughters often discuss it.

“Right, let’s get this over with,” Master Pillar murmurs as he comes to stand at the altar holding the sacred drink.

All I can see is his boots—the fine leather soft and expensive.

“Ailsa Marvel?” he asks.

“Yes, Master Pillar,” I reply without lifting my head.

He says nothing for a moment, then clears his throat and the ritual begins.

“We’re gathered here on this momentous occasion to celebrate Ailsa Marvel’s twenty-first birthday.”

While his words are positive in nature—and echo the thousands of ceremonies I’ve heard before—his tone indicates his boredom.

“She was born to mortal parents, Janice and Ralph Marvel. She has shown no remarkable traits or magical abilities. However, as with the edict set forth by our beloved Silver King, all maidens and gentlemen are required to drink from the enchanted chalice on their twenty-first birthday.”

I fight the urge to tremble, my mind more than aware of what comes next.

At least it’ll be quick, I think.

“Rise, Ailsa Marvel of Hatter District,” he commands. “Rise and taste the bespelled elixir.”

It takes effort to stand like he’s demanded, my knees shaking in pain at having been pressed into the marble for so long.

And without an escort to assist me, it’s even harder. However, it would be a disgrace to place my hands on the ground.

Gritting my teeth, I slowly manage to stumble to my feet, my toes instantly screaming at me for wearing the too-tight flats.

But at least the dress manages to cling to my ass. Not that there is anyone to flash, anyway.

Still, I want to retain what’s left of my dignity.

Master Pillar clears his throat, causing me to glance at him.

And sure enough, the rumors are right. This male has a remarkably symmetrical face.

However, his eyes… his eyes hold a touch of violence to them. One that has me wondering what kind of sins this male has committed.

Such a strange fascination, but nothing in my life has ever been deemed normal.

Most beings in the Hatter District have some semblance of magic. But not me. Never me.

Yet this being possesses intoxicating power, the wickedness of it flashing in his alluring eyes.

Like warm chocolate, I think, losing myself in his stare.

He raises a single brown brow, the darker color similar to his elegantly messy hair.

“Miss Marvel?” he prompts, drawing my focus to his full lips.

This is why I’ve never dared to look upon him, I think. I always knew he would be extraordinary.

His voice warned me of his appeal.

His presence cautioned me to submit and look away.

Yet a single clearing of his throat prompted my disobedience, and now… now I can’t stop staring at this beautiful male.

“Focus, Miss Marvel,” he tells me, his tone edged with dominance. “Drink.”

I blink as though yanked out of a daze, my surroundings settling around me in a flourish of chilling reality.

Master Pillar’s knuckles are white as he holds the chalice before me. Drink me , it says.

“Yes, right. I mean, yes, Master Pillar.” Wow, I’m fumbling this up spectacularly.

Just accept the drink and be done, I think with a mental shake.

Stepping forward, I instantly wince as pain shoots up my leg.

Ignore it, I growl at myself. Ignore it, take the chalice, and finish this.

I’ve not yet eaten today, or really drunk anything at all. Yet my stomach revolts at the sickly sweet scent wafting from the golden cup.

Still, I reach for the stem while Master Pillar observes me from beneath his long, thick eyelashes.

I wrap my fingers around his and the chalice he’s still holding, then lose myself in his gaze once more.

There’s a hint of malice dancing in his dark eyes, a hint of malice that has my insides churning once more.

Yet it’s not fear I feel. It’s intrigue.

Something is very wrong with me.

But what else is new?

I’ve always been drawn to the shadows, to danger .

That was how I met Beast, why I always wandered the forest after dark, and why I can’t seem to stop myself from holding Master Pillar’s intense gaze now.

His nostrils flare as I press the chalice to my lips.

Then I tilt my head backward and tip the contents into my mouth.

I instantly wince at the saccharine taste. It’s like swallowing a spoonful of liquified sugar.

Too sweet , I think, fighting a gag and wishing someone were here with me to hand me a glass of water.

Alas, I’m alone. Like always.

Janice and Ralph—I don’t dare refer to them as Mom and Dad—work in a different home. I see them once every few months. It’s been that way since I turned twelve.

The day Baroness Clarice purchased me from the Farmington household .

I push the memory from my mind and take a deep breath, then I steel my spine, ready to complete the ritual. A simple look will lead to a quick dismissal, and I’ll be on my way.

Only, Master Pillar doesn’t say a word.

He’s staring down at me with a feral expression, his dark irises rimmed with violence.

I swallow, suddenly wishing I hadn’t been so bold. Because this male—this powerful man—looks like he’s about to teach me my place. And I’m not sure I’m going to enjoy that lesson.

An apology lingers on my lips, yet I’m not quite sure what to apologize for. Maintaining eye contact? Delaying the ritual? Something else entirely?

The sentries are staring at me as well, only with widened gazes that project surprise with a hint of fear.

How bizarre, I think. Most superiors barely look my way. But these two are acting as though I’ve shocked them.

Except they’re running their gazes over my body, not staring at my face.

My brow furrows as I glance down, half expecting to find that my gown has ripped.

But no.

The fabric still clings to me like a second skin. However, it’s glowing .

Wait, no, that’s not my dress.

It’s… it’s me .

My eyes widen.

I’m the source of the glowing.

I lift my arms to see the golden shimmer dancing across my skin to my fingertips, and instinctively drop the chalice. It falls to the floor and shatters against the marble, Master Pillar having released it at the same time.

Yet I barely hear the crash.

There’s a roaring in my ears, one that sounds like a wind tunnel but might be the approach of a speed train.

I…

I don’t understand what’s happening.

Master Pillar finally says something, the word “Omega” leaving his mouth. But I can’t understand the rest. It’s too far away. It’s too foreign. It’s too wrong .

This can’t be happening.

There is no way I, Ailsa Marvel, am an Omega. “This is a mistake,” I manage to say. “It has to be a mistake.”

Hands clasp my arms, the touch hot and unexpected. I glance to my right to find a male with horns dragging me forward. Another man—this one with tusks—appears on my left.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice sounding shrill to my ears. Unnatural. Like it’s not even my voice uttering those words.

The men— monsters— don’t reply.

“Where are you taking me?” I try again.

Nothing.

They just continue marching me toward a dark hallway, one that leads to… to… I don’t know where. But I don’t want to find out.

This is all wrong.

I can’t be an Omega.

I’m human.

I’m nothing .

“Don’t bruise her,” a voice says from the void ahead. “The Silver King will want her unharmed and ready for breeding.”

Breeding? I echo in my mind, knowing exactly what that term means, but not how it could possibly apply to me.

Oh, no, no, I think. Absolutely not!

“We really should change her clothes,” that voice continues, the source of it neither feminine nor masculine. “Although, I suppose it won’t matter. He’ll remove them as soon as he sees her anyway.”

The hairs along my still-glowing arms stand on end, a shock seeming to go through my body.

A hiss leaves the horned guy’s mouth as his grip loosens.

I have no idea what I just did, but I very much want to do it again.

Because I do not want to go into that hallway or to the infamous Silver King .

He’ll break me. I’m sure of it.

This is all a misunderstanding. I am not an Omega. The moment he realizes that, he’ll kill me.

Another electric current flows across my skin, drawing dual growls from the males holding me.

The horned one barks out a curse, releasing me in an instant, while the other flies into the wall beside me like I’ve just pushed him.

A magnetic pulse? I wonder. A wave?

Oh, who cares! I tell myself. Run!