It couldn’t be. Nothing coming out of his mouth seemed contrived, and there wasn’t an ounce of mockery in it. He was telling what he believed to be the truth. But how? How could there be Undead of any kind?
Belle knew magic existed, had seen it in many forms, so perhaps it was hypocritical to refuse to believe in this of all things. Perhaps it was more the fear of such things that challenged the belief.
But not for long. Belle gasped sharply and whipped around when the growl came – with the subject matter she and Zesha discussed still hanging, and then that terrible, menacing sound – oh but she was horrified to see what it came from.
This was impossible, this was unreal, this was– Well, it was just the proof she needed. The threat was very much alive and real, and the fact that it made it inside the castle, past its defenses, past the guards, made her blood run cold.
She took slow steps back, keeping her eyes on the monster that had entered the room. Each step was shaky, delicate, as though her feet were struggling to support her, but she kept moving, and nodded when Zesha instructed her to get a weapon. It was then that she hurried herself, and turned to the rack, looking over the weapons it held. She was so frighteningly out of her depth. But another growl alerted her to the threat she and the king faced, and so she reached for a sword that thankfully wasn’t as heavy as those she had seen in her past. Long and thin, it was manageable, and Belle tried to get her thoughts straight as she held it lowly before her.
“Zesha…?” she fearfully called, tearing her eyes off of the Undead intruder only for a moment to look at the warrior king.
Zesha didn’t answer, looking to her briefly to see that she was now armed with a sword.
“Good choice.” He managed, looking between her and the Undead. The Undead being, in the meantime, sauntered a little closer, albeit slowly. “Looks like we have a lone one. And it’s not one of those types that will bite and infect you, either. Even if you get scratched, it won’t be bad...”
If anything, it wasn’t much better than a training dummy. Zesha backed up one step, then another, keeping his own sword pointed at it in case.
“You need to aim for the neck. Decapitate it. Alternatively, slash its head hard enough. Do you want to try, Belle?”