The Beast of Ten

 Book by Beth Brower.

 This was a deep and compelling story based loosely on Beauty and the Beast. I really appreciated the religious symbolism and depth of themes: good vs. evil, light vs. dark, hope, courage, sacrifice, free will to choose for yourself, accepting a calling to serve beyond your own interests, repentance as a slow painful but worthwhile endeavor, redemption available to all, power in prayer, holy rituals and ordinances and tokens and garments, receiving heavenly inspiration and instruction, allusions to the Savior (“a figure, in robes as bright as the white fruit in the courtyard window, who quietly invites “), the inconstancy and disloyalty of evil beings who use then betray, and so much more! 

Note: the “beast” character is truly evil and chose to be that way (he kills people and drinks their blood) so this may be too much for younger or sensitive readers; however the redemption arc is much more powerful with a truly amoral character than it would be with a more likeable or relatable protagonist.

My only complaints were with several small plot points that were introduced but not fully explained, utilized, or resolved (the candles in the windows, pitch on the stones, burning the trees, etc.) as well as a few spelling/grammar/editing mistakes.

Some quotes:

“Do you see how this tree’s roots have grown around and around in circles, more concerned with itself than with stretching out into the earth? That is why it could not survive the storm.”

"No matter what’s inside you, no matter what you’re meant for, if you take counsel from the dark, there it is that you will be led.”

“You begin by denying value to whomever you wish to destroy. For once they doubt their value, hope simply drains away through their cracked worth. A much simpler way to claim souls."

Decisions, it seems, are acts of power in themselves.

“He told me that, at some point, each one of us would have to wrestle with the Lights, our hearts naked and exposed, and come away with the painfully honest understanding of where we stand before the Court of Heaven and whether we will do what we are called upon to do.”

I step away, but I do not diminish my light. I am on an errand to keep it; I will not weaken myself for him.

Grief is human. Grief is holy.

Days filled with nothing—like days overwhelmed with too much—wear you out just the same.

I cannot pull him through the curtain of light. I can only beckon. “You must decide."

The Lights want to claim you, heal you, save you for Their own, but you must choose Them.

I feel surrounded by the unseen—ministered to, mourned with, mourned for.