Page 3 of Monster's Maiden

Aiden murmurs, "I almost feel bad for it."

"It’s part of the cycle," I say gently. "We respect what we hunt."

Maya reaches out to touch the dae's flank, her fingers trembling slightly. "We should give thanks."

I nod solemnly. Together, we bow our heads and offer a quiet prayer of gratitude to the forest and the spirit of the dae. The forest seems even quieter now, as if mourning the loss of one of its own. The snow continues to fall around us, softening the edges of our little circle.

2

ZYRITH

Isit in my corner, feeling the heaviness of this place press down on me. Cracks spider through the stone ceiling, allowing faint beams of light to pierce the chamber’s gloom. Light is a rare visitor here. The chamber echoes with the soft drip of water. Each droplet is a metronome in my endless solitude. The air is filled with the scent of damp stone and ancient decay. Bioluminescent moss glows faintly along the walls, casting eerie patterns on the ground that flicker and dance.

I rise slowly from my resting place. My stone joints creak noisily in protest. Centuries have passed in this darkness. Each day blends into the next until time itself seems meaningless. My exterior bears the marks of those centuries. Cracks and weathering trace patterns of isolation across my form. Each fissure whispers of the relentless passage of time, a cruel artist sculpting my existence with every passing moment.

I move to the edge of my hidden sanctuary. Movement above catches my eye—shadows flickering through the small cracks. The light shifts again, dancing across the chamber. The faint light teases my senses. The air from outside carries scents of pine and fresh soil. It’s a stark contrast to the damp decay within my cavern.

I approach one of the narrow crevices along the stone wall that provides a rare glimpse into the world above. Through one such crevice, I observe the realm that thrives beyond my reach. Snow blankets the forest, turning it into a pristine expanse of white. Trees sway gently in the breeze. Creatures move about in pairs or groups, never alone. This sight stirs something deep within me—a longing for a life beyond these stone walls.

"Freedom," I murmur, the word foreign on my tongue.

My gaze shifts to a creature grazing near the entrance. Its sleek form moves with a grace I can only envy. It pauses, ears twitching as if sensing my presence, then continues its peaceful foraging. Such simplicity, such ease in its existence. My stone heart envies it.

I turn around and tread the familiar path around my chamber, feeling the grooves worn into the floor by countless years of pacing. The stones under my feet are cold and unyielding. My senses heighten, attuned to every shift in the underground's silent symphony.

A distant sound reaches me—an echo, perhaps, or a trick of my imagination. I tilt my head, listening. Nothing follows. The silence returns, more oppressive than before. This chamber is my world, and I its sole inhabitant. The burden of loneliness gnaws at my insides.

"Another day in this forsaken tomb," I mutter, my voice a gravelly rumble that reverberates through the cavern.

My own existence feels burdensome, a relic of an era that no longer matters. Yet I remain, bound by some unspoken duty to guard these ruins and remember a time when my kind walked the earth.

My thoughts wander to those last days—the cataclysm that erased my people from existence. Fire and stone clashed as our world crumbled. I had retreated into this sanctuary, hoping to awaken and find everything restored. Instead, I woke to silence.

My fingers, rough and weathered like the ancient stone around me, trace along one of the larger cracks on my arm. The texture is rough, each ridge and valley a testament to the years endured. These marks are more than scars; they are stories etched into my being. A constant reminder of what once was and what can never be again.

My once formidable form now bears the weight of isolation, a monument to my enduring existence. A low growl escapes my throat. My life has been one of patience and stillness, yet even stones can grow restless.

"How long must I remain here?" I ask the emptiness.

No answer comes, only the steady drip of water and the distant hum of life outside. The silence is both comfort and curse, a companion in my solitude yet a reminder of what I lack.

A shaft of light breaks through another crevice, once again illuminating the stone cavern walls. The glow is dim but steady, much like my hope—faint but not extinguished. It is this glimmer that keeps me from succumbing to despair.

I step back from the crevices, returning to the heart of my chamber. My pacing resumes, each step an echo in this vast tomb. The world outside remains just out of reach, tantalizing in its beauty and simplicity.

At least for now, I remain within these ancient walls, a guardian of forgotten ruins and lost memories. My loyalty binds me here, but my spirit yearns for something more.

The solitude continues to gnaw at me as I finally stop my pacing and sit down on the damp stone floor of the cavern. I feel a relentless hunger, this need for companionship.

My thoughts wander to the time before the cataclysm, when my kin filled these halls with laughter and song. We were not always so isolated. We were a community, a family. Each day, we worked side by side, carving out our existence from the very stone that surrounded us. The memory of those days brings a pang to my chest, a dull ache that never seems to fade.

In the darkness, my memories continue to flicker like distant stars. Faces of those I once knew, now blurred by the eons. I remember their voices. I remember the warmth of their presence. It seems almost cruel that I can recall these details with such clarity when they are forever out of reach.

"I would give anything to hear another voice," I admit to the empty chamber.

Now, only echoes remain. The silence is a constant reminder of what I've lost, of the vibrant world that once existed beyond these stone walls.

“Am I truly the last?” I shout at the darkness, though I know it offers no reply.

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