I was twentyโฆ twenty-five, I think?โฆ when I was sentenced. Four hundred years was a length of time I couldnโt even imagine. It was a length of time I donโt think anyone could imagine, even the judge. It was just a big showy number that let everyone know Iโd never see the light of day again. The mages who cast the spells were dramatic about it, practically shouting the part about โuntil death claims you, or four hundred years hath passed, forsooth, thou shalt be imprisoned hereโ. They donโt waste that kind of magic on most prisoners, but I was special.
The Slayer, they called me then. The Monster of Sentan. Iโd killed nineteen peopleโฆ I remember that number because I was so furious that they stopped me so close to my goal of twenty-one. And I didnโt just kill ordinary people, no, but the Chosen of the Gods. The Great and Good. They were terrified of me. So they locked me away, to die forgotten.
It had been a little less than a hundred years when the king died without heir, and a civil war tore the country apart. When the fighting was all over, the losers were dragged down to the deepest cells under the castle, and the new king and his soldiers stopped and stared at me. โWhoโฆ who is this?โ he asked, frowning. โSome victim of the usurper?โ
People like cooks and jailers and scrubbers donโt change as easily as kings. The same man whoโd been bringing me my meals since there was still brown in his hair and beard shuffled forward, hunched and grey now. โNo, yer majesty,โ he said humbly. โThat be a special prisoner, from before the old king died.โ
โSpecial? Special how?โ He frowned, moving closer to my cell. โThe old king died more than ten years ago. This woman must have been a child then. What could she have done to - โ
โDonโt get too close, yer majesty,โ the old man said sharply. โThatโs the Monster of Sentanโฆ anโ she bites.โ
That was true. I do bite.
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