No... This...this was a lie, another lie. Another shade that merely haunted the last vestiges of her, of what left remained of soft hums and curious sighs, of the flutter of open pages as book after book poured from the pages of the tomes that lined the walls of the Great Hall. He needed to forget, yes, he needed to forget this all; forget the steeple and buildings of stone, forget the eyes deeper than any briny pool and the peach skin bloodied by his own hands--
"That's...impossible." Resignation lied in his tones, lowering the pitch. Golden irises grew dull, his scales grew pallid. This couldn't be... This couldn't be. His hands twitched, palms aching; aching for the warmth of the sunshine that was his Belle. No, not his. How could she ever hope to be his. Yet...he was hers. Her beast, her monster, her doom. And yet, fear gripped his small heart. Could he stare at yet another illusion...or face a harsher reality still?