The father of my son's is a monster. So what?

She was lighting the candles when she heard the sound of wood against wood echoing. Sascha pursed her lips, straightened a wrinkle in the white linen tablecloth she only used on rare and special occasions, and pricked up her ears.

Another blow rang out. She cocked her head thoughtfully, before fixing a curious emerald gaze on the ceiling as if she could somehow see through the wood. The noise was coming from the attic of the cabin she shared with her husband James.

Her face wrinkled in confusion.

Did he arrive early? The thought of him alarmed her, her plan would only work if James did not arrive before his usual time, a little after six.

As the family head of the Cornfield Clan, James was not directly involved in the farm's agricultural production that was the job of the other men in the family. No, James's job involved administrative management and the sale of farm produce.

At this time of day, the cabin should be empty and quiet. The fact that she was home was due to a combination of stubborn determination, efficiency, and a desire to fix things with James. The truth was that her marriage was not going well, she had not done it in a long time, but Sascha was stubborn and willing to compromise. She would even reduce her working hours at the Apothecary if necessary since, as the town apothecary's assistant, she used to come home quite late at night.

She critically evaluated her work. The white linen tablecloth, the arrangement of red roses in the center. The porcelain slab. She had prepared all of James's favorite dishes. The final change had been the two tall white wax candles. The table was beautiful and simply set for a night of reconciliation.

Perfect. She nodded, satisfied, and took a step back.

"Now there is only ..."

The sound repeated, interrupting her.

Sascha was as curious and inquisitive as a cat, so it came as no surprise that she abandoned what she was doing in pursuit of research. She was almost finished climbing the last steps of the ladder when she heard him.

The sound of a loud moan of pleasure.

Instantly she froze. "Curiosity killed the cat." The voice of her teacher chose that precise moment to infiltrate her petrified thoughts

"More give me more. Stronger. Do not hold back, darling." Dismayed, she recognized the voice. It was Brigitte, the sister-in-law of her husband. What was the widow doing in her house? Sascha finally cleared the bottom rung of the ladder and faced the bedroom door. For some reason her heart was beating like crazy against her ribs, making it difficult for her to breathe. She took a deep breath and instantly she frowned. The scent of her made him uncomfortable.

She nudged the door ajar and then wished she had not.

The image burned her surprised eyes. The shock immobilized her thoughts and emotions for a minute. Frozen, she surveyed the scene before her. The strong body of the man penetrated with force inside Brigitte's body. The muscles of your buttocks, thighs, and back are grouped by the tension of movement. His tan skin slick with sweat, his blond hair dark with moisture. Gasping breath and grunts of pleasure.

It was James. Her husband.

"... But the baby?" James's voice broke in, bringing her back.

"Our son will be fine, I promise you." The woman promised.

Our? Was Victor not the father?

Her thoughts stuttered time slowed and Sascha heard with pristine clarity the sound of something ripping, he heart from her? Your dreams of a happy family? Her emotions from him? Or maybe it was all? A hard, steely stab of pain pierced her ribs; Sascha held her chest, her expression that of someone deeply hurt. Old feelings of betrayal, loneliness, and abandonment crashed against her. Her knees shook and she staggered back under the weight of her emotions. She gripped the doorway tightly and held herself upright.

"Luckily, they have not discovered me." A half-hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat as he discovered the course of her thoughts. She knew that her marriage was not going well, that it had been months since James last sexually touched her was a strong indication, but she never expected this. This betrayal dug so deep into a damaged part of her psyche that she simply stopped feeling.

A joke she was. A humorless smile curled her red lips. Here she was trying to fix years of marriages and it turns out that the whole damn time she had been stabbed.

Numb, she watched as the hips of hers —now— her ex-husband increased in speed and strength. Instantly, the conversation stopped and only the sound of moans and grunts of pleasure that the lovers emitted remained.

Sascha turned and descended the stairs as silently as she had come. Without slowing down, she crossed the main hall and left the cabin.

The cold air of an autumn sunset ruffled her hair and wiped the cold sweat from her skin. Sascha leaned her forehead against the cold wood of a column, feeling dizzy, nauseous, and damn cold inside.

A sense of revulsion burned its way from her stomach to her throat and Sascha vomited the remains of her lunch. Cold. Empty. Any. There was nothing inside her; she was completely disconnected from reality.

"Am I in shock?" She wondered herself and even her mental voice lacked emotion. Sascha was a teacher when hiding her emotions and feelings was about her, but there was a subtle difference between hidings and not feeling, the former was voluntary while the latter was not.

She wiped her mouth and walked with stiff, mechanical steps. She did not have a specific direction, or a plan, or a special purpose, her only wish was to get away from her. From James, his lover, and his betrayal. Of herself, her flaws, and her broken dreams.

A few steps later, she broke into a run. Her legs pumping hard and fast, pulling her away from everyone and everything with certainty. She ran into a couple of people on her way. She eluded them, just as she eluded her attempts at approach.

"Sascha." A voice shouted behind her, its tone cracked by age and grumpy by nature. She knew that voice, it was the first voice she heard twenty-four years ago when she woke up before the closed doors of the Temple of the Spirits of Arden. It was Sheamus, her teacher.

She sped up, she did not want to listen, she did not want to speak and above all, she did not want to feel. She wanted to stay in the sweet emptiness of nothingness. Even stunned as she was, Sascha knew there was nothing but pain waiting for her when she returned from the gray land.

She was sick of the pain.

Under normal circumstances, she would have been aware that she was acting irrationally. However, circumstances had long since ceased to be normal and she was anything but rational.

She focused on her gasping breath, on her heart hammering from her, on the energy-burning muscles of her legs. She was lost in the sensations. Determined not to think not to feel otherwise, she was unaware when the terrain changed or the suddenly steep slope, the soft, crunchy ground beneath her boots.

She stumbled, her boot tangled in the roots of a tree, and fell, sliding down a small incline, landing in a hollow. Pain, she burned her nerve endings from her ankle to her hip.

She screamed. The sound plus the pain was enough to clear the gray mist clouding her thoughts. She blinked, her eyes registering for the first time her current whereabouts.

She could barely see the sky. The view of her obstructed by large, towering conifers. Wherever she wants her to look her alone could see more of the same. Tall and imposing trees with thick trunks and branches arching to the sky laden with leaves, some kissed by autumn, some not. Her chest clenched, feeling caged.

However, that was not the worst. No, the worst was the old and ancient magic that burned her nerve endings. So thick and heavy, she could barely breathe through it. She had heard the stories and, she knew what that meant.

The Forbidden Forest.

She had run straight into the Forbidden Forest, a place of looming shadows, predatory human monsters, and ancient magic. Also, the last place -except for hunters- a human wanted to be.

An avalanche of dirt rushed from the left of her. The dirt particles and leaves falling within an inch of her boots. Stiff, Sascha looked up and her eyes slammed into the evil, savage eyes of a monster.

Her teacher was right "Curiosity did kill the cat."