Page 1: The Origin of the Beast
Long ago, when the world was still young and the stars shone brighter than they do today, there was a kingdom nestled between the peaks of towering mountains. The people who lived there were prosperous and wise, their lands rich with harvest and their nights filled with song. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding them, there was a shadow in the distance—one that loomed over them like a specter in the dark.
The legend of the Scarlet Beast was passed down through generations, told to children by their elders as a warning, a tale spoken in whispers. It began as a creature of the wild, a beast with fur as red as blood, eyes as black as night, and claws that could tear through stone. Its roar was said to shake the earth itself, and its very presence could turn day into night. The people of the kingdom feared it, for it was said to live deep within the enchanted forests, where no man dared venture.
Some spoke of its creation, of an ancient magic gone awry. The Scarlet Beast was not born, but summoned—crafted from the anger and hatred of a fallen god who sought revenge against the mortals who had wronged him. With each passing year, the beast grew stronger, its rage feeding off the fear it inspired in the hearts of those who heard its name.
But it was not only the terror of the beast that troubled the kingdom. It was the prophecy that accompanied it. An oracle, old and blind, had once foretold that the kingdom would face a time of darkness, and that only one with the courage to confront the Scarlet Beast would save them. This person would not be a mighty warrior, nor a chosen hero, but an ordinary soul who dared to face the beast, regardless of the cost.
Over time, the story became a legend, something spoken of with dread but not believed in earnest. The beast was thought to be nothing more than a myth—a tale to keep children from wandering too far into the woods. Yet, as the kingdom flourished, a subtle change began to stir in the land. Strange events occurred—crops failed, animals went missing, and shadows lengthened unnaturally at dusk. Whispers grew louder. The beast was waking.
Page 2: The Beast Awakens
It was on the eve of the Harvest Festival that the Scarlet Beast first revealed itself to the people. A violent storm tore through the valley that night, lightning flashing in every direction, thunder crashing like a war drum in the sky. The winds howled through the trees, carrying with them a deep, guttural roar that seemed to shake the very bones of the earth.
At first, the people thought it was merely a freak storm, an omen perhaps, or the work of some vengeful god. But as the hours passed, the air grew thick with an unnatural stillness, and the cries of the storm began to fade into a low, menacing growl. It was then that the first of the beast’s paw prints were found—great, blood-red imprints in the mud of the forest’s edge, so large that a grown man could stand within them and still be swallowed whole.
The village’s leaders gathered, but none dared speak of the beast openly. The elders, too, fell silent. Some said they knew the time had come, that the creature had broken free from its slumber, but none dared go into the woods to confirm it. Yet the people knew, deep in their hearts, that the Scarlet Beast was real, and its hunger could no longer be ignored.
Among the villagers, there was one who dared to speak of it more openly—a young woman named Ilara. She was a healer, known for her gentle ways and the soft-spoken wisdom she had inherited from her mother. Though not a warrior, Ilara felt a deep connection to the forest, having spent much of her life wandering its paths, gathering herbs and remedies for the sick. She was the first to suggest that the beast might not be merely a creature of terror, but something far more complicated—something that might be tamed or understood.
Despite her thoughts, Ilara was not foolish enough to believe that confronting such a creature would be easy. The Scarlet Beast was as much a part of the kingdom as the mountains themselves—woven into the fabric of their history, their fears, and their hopes. But in her heart, she felt a calling, a pull to discover the truth of the beast, to confront it in a way that no one else dared.
That night, as the village slept uneasily, Ilara packed a small satchel with herbs and water, and ventured into the woods alone. She knew the risks, but she also knew that no one else would dare take the first step. The forest was thick with shadows, the trees bending as if watching her every move, and the air seemed charged with an energy she could not explain. But still, she pressed on, following the tracks of the beast deeper into the heart of the woods.
Page 3: The Beast’s Heart
Ilara’s journey through the darkened forest seemed endless. Hours passed, and still, she ventured further into the unknown, her resolve as strong as ever. The sky above was now clouded with the storm, and the winds had turned colder, biting at her skin. The deeper she walked, the more she felt the presence of the Scarlet Beast, as if the very forest itself was alive with its energy.
Then, at the heart of the forest, she found it.
The Scarlet Beast stood tall, its massive form towering above her. Its fur shimmered in the low light of the storm, blood-red and dark, as though the beast itself was born of the night. Its eyes, black as pitch, locked with hers, and for a long moment, neither moved. Ilara’s heart raced, her pulse quickening with both fear and wonder.
The beast was not what she had imagined. It was not a mindless monster, driven only by hunger and rage. There was something deeper in its gaze—something ancient, something wise. And in that moment, Ilara understood that the beast was not a creature of destruction, but one of balance, one that kept the world in check, ensuring that nature’s fury did not consume the land.
“You came,” the beast spoke, its voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. “Few have the courage to face me, but you are different. You are not here to fight. You seek understanding.”
Ilara nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know why I came. I only know that something in me told me it was the right thing to do.”
The beast tilted its head slightly, as if considering her words. “The kingdom has forgotten its bond with the land. It has become complacent, blind to the forces that govern all things. I was summoned to remind them of their place in this world.”
Ilara’s heart ached with understanding. The kingdom had grown too proud, too prosperous, and had forgotten the old ways—the ways of respect, of living in harmony with nature. The Scarlet Beast was not a harbinger of doom, but a force of nature itself, come to restore balance.
And in that moment, Ilara realized that she was not here to slay the beast. She was here to become its voice, to bridge the gap between the people and the creature that had long been misunderstood. The kingdom had no choice but to change, to respect the forces of the earth once more. The Scarlet Beast was a warning, but it was also a protector—a guardian of the balance between man and nature.
With a single nod, the beast turned and vanished into the depths of the forest, leaving Ilara standing alone in the storm. She knew that her journey was just beginning—that the kingdom would not easily accept the truth of what she had learned. But she also knew that, for the first time, the scarlet rage in the heart of the forest had been quelled, not by violence, but by understanding.
The tale of the Scarlet Beast would live on, but now it would be a tale of harmony, of balance, and of the deep bond between man and the land. And in the end, it would be the wisdom of those who dared to seek the truth that would save the kingdom from the darkness.