Rain falls on the burning town. There are only two beings still alive within. The moon is covered by clouds as dark as the smoke from the destroyed buildings. In a pile of rubble one figure stands over another. Both figures are breathing heavily, trying to catch their breath.
It should have been a fairytale ending, the Hero had triumphed over the Monster, but the Hero did not feel triumphant. The Monster hadn’t fought with malicious intent. It was scared, lashing out in fear of dying, like a wounded animal. The Hero was surprised at how young the Monster’s face looked. It could not have been but a few years younger than she was.
“Any last words Monster?” The Hero asked after reclaiming her breath.
“My only regret is that I did not attempt to escape from my cage sooner.” He was still trying to regain his breath. “Maybe then I would have been able to see more of this world.” As she raised her sword once more he asked, “I would like to know your name?”
She knew she shouldn’t tell him, but she also knew what it felt like to be in a cage. “I am a hero known as the Fiery Flower of France, Fleur Delacour.”
A small smile spread across his face as he heard her name and title. “I do not wish to die, but I am glad that if I must, a hero will do it. I’ve always wanted to meet one.”
Fleur could not bring herself to return the smile or ask the name of the Monster, it would only make killing him…it harder. As the Hero prepared to lower her sword she whispered, “My condolences Monster.”