"Oh, have I told thee? Adding to my heightened vision and hearing which I am now learning about, I also have a heightened sense of smell and thy scent," He paused again and closed his eyes, as he did, he brought his black nose closer to her face and sniffed her like a dog would.
Then he moved to her neck and sniffed her there too. Dragging in a long breath, he opened his eyes and Lydia bit back a scream for he was so close to her face and that terrified her.
Although he had the face of a beast, she could swear on her life that he had a smug look upon him.
"It is immaculately pleasing. I thought so too last night when thou attended to me in the lake…" His long black claws began to stroke the side of her face.
"Thy scent is quite delicious, witch. The scent of the boar was pleasant so I hunted it and it tasted good. And thy scent art a hundred times more pleasing than that of the boar… I wonder what thy flesh would taste like, witch."
She trembled with fear and he saw it and he enjoyed it.
"Wash thyself and come. Thou needest to begin preparing for the ritual." Were the last words he spoke before he finally released her jaw, rose to his feet and walked away.
Lydia sat there in a daze for long seconds after he walked away. She looked across the lake and thought of running away. She wondered if she crossed to the other side of the lake and ran away as fast as her legs could carry her, maybe she'd escape the beast.
But she thought to herself, if his senses were heightened, who was to say his reflexes were not? He'd catch up with her in time. And if she somehow escaped him, where was she to go? The forest was her life.
Life outside the forest was death for her… Because she was a labkan and labkans were not allowed to live amongst people.
On this side of the lake was a beast, and on the other side were people who were no better than beasts.
Which side was better?
After sitting like that for a while, Lydia rose to her feet, disrobed and dived into the lake skyclad, and when she resurfaced, her eyes were turned towards her cottage. Her choice was made.
The beast she knew now was better than the beasts she would encounter if she ran away.
So she said to herself…
"Lydia, daughter of Lyanna— Save the beast quickly, and live the life you deserve."
…
To lift a curse was quite easy for most witches. You just needed to find what binds the accursed to the curse.
The binding tool could be anything.
It could be a piece of jewelry the accursed always wore, could be a pair off sandals, a flower in the garden of the accursed, a tree, a painting in the hallway, the brush they use for their hair.
It could be anything.
It could be kept right next to the accursed or buried deep down beneath the sea. But the first step was to find that binding tool and through some means, destroy the connection between the accursed and that which binds the curse.
For blood curses, it was quite different. It required the death of the caster before the curse could be broken. The one who had placed the curse must die for the curse to be lifted.
However, the worst and most difficult kind of curse to break was a blood curse placed through the death of the caster. Since the curse came at the expense of the life of the caster, it was an impossible curse to break.
Such curses could only be curbed. Not broken completely, just contained.
Her mother had taught her these things. The curse on the beast was a blood curse placed through the death of the caster. It wasn't going to be easy.
"S-Sire!" It was the voice of Festus Obadiah. He had returned. "How are you a beast still?!" He inquired as he came upon he had expected a change by the time of his return.
At that moment, Lydia stepped out of the cottage with a basket of things in her hands and as soon as his eyes touched her form, he unsheathed his sword and advanced towards her.
"Witch!" He called out with his sword now resting upon her neck. "Have you no care for your life?! Why is His Majesty still in this state? Speak or lose your life this instant." He orders.
For some reason, unlike last night where she was trembling with fear when his blade touched her neck, this time around, she just stared at him with a rather languid and careless expression.
"I said speak!" He roars yet again and she remains standing with her mouth shut and her eyes staring at him.
"You—"
"Leave her be Obadiah." the beast spoke from where he sat upon the log where she had met him devouring the boar earlier. The boar was no more and she had no clue what he had done with the huge animal. All that was left were traced of dried blood on the ground where the boar had been.
"Sheath thy blade." He ordered and her violet eyes moved from the duke and fell upon the odd eyes of the beast. And her gaze remained steady for seconds.
"But Sire—" Festus paused as a deep dark growling lingered in the air, like a wolf stalking its prey from behind thick bushes. Fear ran down his spine and his hands that held the sword trembled.
Slowly he brings the blade down from her neck and she tears her gaze away from the beast, walks past Festus.
And as she walks, the gaze of the beast remains upon her swaying figure until she disappears from his view to the back of the cottage.
Her gaze had changed. He noticed it. The fear remained, but she no longer dwelled on it like she had been doing since the night before.
It made him sneer as he thought to himself, 'This might turn out to be the most interesting week in over three hundred years.'