Prologue
"He was heartless and never felt any affection or compassion for anyone around him. He was a cold and unforgiving man, who had his own set of rules and never budged. He did not recognize love, only obedience and fear,"
The children listen intently with an awe to the young woman, a storyteller in the village.
"He only knew how to slaughter enemies, for he saw no friends or allies in this world, only his servants and any potential traitors," the young woman said, continuing the story.
"He was feared by all, for he was the ruthless King of werewolves." The children looked at her with wide eyes, imagining what the King of werewolves must have looked like.
"A monster?" a child cried out, his eyes going wide. The young woman chuckled and shook her head slightly, clearly enjoying the innocence of these kids. It reminded her of herself, when she was told about such stories when she was young.
"I wouldn't go that far, my dear," she chuckled.
"He was certainly lost, alone, and scared," she said, her voice turning thoughtful. "But it is not our place to judge him. Those who are misguided and lost must be shown the way, instead of being discarded," she continued gently.
She took a moment to look at the children, seeing in them the same innocence that she once had. "A child does not know better, until they are taught."
She again, looked at the children, remembering the words of her grandmother, and the wisdom she shared, even though some stories seemed sad. "No matter how far someone has strayed, they can always find a way back home. Hope and healing are possible, even when things are not well."
"But what happens to him now?" the children asked, curiously. The young woman smiled gently at them.
"Hm, well," she said thinking of the best way to answer their question. "Well, I suppose it's best to continue this story another time," she said, making the children wined, unwilling to wait for the next part.
"For now, it's getting late, and we should be going home. Plus, look, Mr. Breadman is almost closing his shop." She pointed over at the nearby bakery.
"Now go on, off you go." The children reluctantly bid their farewell and ran off, eager to get home and hear more of the story next weekend.
She rose from the fountain's edge and began to walk home, her mind filled with questions about what had happened to the King. Her grandmother had left her with an unfinished ending, and she couldn't help but wonder what had become of him.
The image of the lonely, broken King and the children she'd just told the story to, still weighing heavy in her mind as the sun slowly set in the sky.
With a sigh, she continued on, hoping to find some answers to her thoughts. But for now, the mystery remained.
