((Here it is, in all its flawed and fugly glory. xp))

Prologue:
A blinding spear of light split the darkness, casting a pale, eerie glow on the foreboding clouds that swirled through the sky. Less than a moment later came the painful CRACK, and a terrible rumble as if giants were waging war in the heavens. The wind howled through the trees of the great forest, causing branches to bend and snap with deadly force. Then, and only then did the rain begin to fall.
The village at the foot of the mountain was suffused with fear. Panic and confusion at the sudden gale drove the citizens back into their homes with haste. Merely minutes earlier it had been a lovely autumn evening, the sky clear and the sunset casting fiery colors on the hillside. Now all was in turmoil, and no one was sure why…something awful had happened, that was for certain. Something had gone terribly wrong.
Two thirds of the way up the mountain there lay a great castle, its ebony spires reaching high above the trees to gaze imperiously upon the towns below. It was this imposing stricture that had been the target of the sudden bolt of lightning. Chunks of severed stone crashed and tumbled down the sides if its walls, and one of its many towers had collapsed entirely. Unfortunately, the storm raging outside its rough battlements was nothing compared to the tumult within.
“What?” screeched the witch yet again, another bolt of lightning hitting at the same moment with a deafening boom. Her dark hair swirled around her head like a living cloud. Her thin fists were clenched at her sides, the face was flushed red with rage.
“You would – you dare – how dare you say such things! How dare you speak this way to me!” Her angry words were punctuated by the objects around her as they threw themselves at the man to whom her tantrum was directed.
The man had retreated across the enormous chamber and now stood pressed, terrified, against the opposite wall. The debris of broken stone busts, ceramic vases and even some kind of crystal were strewn around his feet – remnants of other valuables the witch had thrown at him. His fine clothes were disheveled and torn in places, his hair was disarrayed. His arms, bloody and mangled from the breakable flying objects, were thrown up to protect his face.
“I…I…I…!” The man stuttered, his voice muffled by his sleeves.
“Silence!” Another large vase came crashing against the wall above his head. The man let out a high-pitched yelp and hunched lower, shaking.
“You despicable brat!” screamed the witch, advancing on him with a quick, angry stride. “After I’ve waited all this time for you – after all I’ve done for you – you and your entire God-forsaken house…You will look at me when I am speaking!”
The witch took hold of one of the man’s arms and yanked it down, away from his head. The man screamed in pain. She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled, directing his face at hers. Her poisonous green eyes burned like small, wicked fires.
The man’s face was young and stunningly handsome, unharmed save for a long cut across the bone of his right cheek. His complexion, though flawless, was bleached white with fear. He stared at the woman in front of him with eyes that were far too wide. His whole body was trembling uncontrollably. He looked to be on the brink of madness.
He struggled to speak again, his mouth moving soundlessly. Then…
“M…M…Miranda, p-please…”
The witch, Miranda, released her hold on his arm and pulled back abruptly, looking stung. The man fell to his knees on the floor, them whimpered again as the shards of glass and other things cut into his legs. He curled into himself, his back bet, his head down, cradling his wounded arms to his body.
“W…w…what are you g-going t-t-to do to m-me?” He forced the words between his chattering teeth, dreading the reply he would receive.
“Why…?” whispered the witch, her expression bleeding from rage to pain. Her features twisted with agonizing bitterness. “Why don’t you want me? Why don’t you love me?”
“Love you?” the man croaked from his position on the floor. He seemed to regain a fraction of his senses at this ludicrous query. He raised his head to stare incredulously at the witch.
“How…how could I love you? I’m t-terrified of you!” His voice cracked as he realized what he was telling her. Then, as the weight of his situation came colliding with his previously massive sense of pride, he decided that he no longer cared. Resentful anger rose to mix into his fear, and he found his voice once more.
“Who could ever love a horrible thing like you?” he hissed. Miranda’s eyes blazed, but flinched, and the man went on. “You’re dangerous. You’re evil. All your beauty is a farce. In truth, you are probably incredibly ugly.” He spat this last jibe as if it were the dirtiest, most foul attribute one could have. “You will always be ugly, and I cannot stand being near such hideous things.”
Miranda’s breath was ragged. She screwed up her face, threw her head back and let out a bone-chilling wail that seemed to reverberate throughout the entire mountain. The man on the floor winced, anticipating another blow, but none came. He opened his eyes to see small rivers of tears streaming down Miranda’s face, her gemstone gaze radiating her misery.
“How could you?” she whispered again. She glared resentfully at his dumfounded expression and covered her face with her hands, her sobs vibrating through her thin shoulders.
Sensing her weakness, the man pulled himself painfully to his feet, leaning against the wall to steady himself.
“Kill me if you like,” he dared, his newfound bravery spurring him on, “but mark my words - you will never be my bride.”
Miranda’s head snapped up, her hands balled into fists once more. Her eyes narrowed, even as a few more tears slid down her cheeks.
“You,” she growled, her voice low and dangerous, “you are the monster.”
The room suddenly darkened, as if covered in some sinister black mist. The sky outside was again illuminated by lightning, the castle shaking violently from the bolts. The man’s bravado had fled with the light, and he had resumed his trembling.
“A monster you are, and a monster you shall always be…” Miranda’s voice was a mere rasp of breath, yet it seemed to echo off the stone walls around them both. “Never aging, never dying, trapped within eternity. Hideous and beastlike, forgotten by kin and house and history, deprived of sun, deprived of love…ten times mine shall be your misery!”
A tremendous wind shoved its way into the hall, battering against the man and making it impossible to move.
“Little by little, become consumed by the beast within until you find a maid who may forgive you of your sin.”
As she spoke, the man could feel the change boiling inside him. At her final words, one last spear of lightning stabbed at his castle, the vibrations causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor. When he looked up, the witch was gone, but he could still feel her storm around him. Her curse stung and bit at his flesh like hundreds of tiny, fiery parasites.
All at once the change broke over him. He could feel his flesh melt away; his bones crush into themselves, grow, and change shape. He screamed in agony, and his vision was consumed with darkness…