Page 15 of Monster's Maiden

She remains tense, her eyes wide and searching. Vulnerable. I feel a strange compulsion to offer her something more than just safety—a piece of myself, my story.

"My name is Zyrith," I begin, my voice a deep rumble. "I am the last of the Syldravian race."

Her eyes widen further, but she does not interrupt. Encouraged by her silence, I continue.

"Centuries ago, this was our home. The Syldravians—my people—we thrived in these underground realms, attuned to the very stone and grounds around us. We were not always solitary creatures. There was a time when these halls echoed with laughter and life."

I pause, memories washing over me like waves against ancient cliffs. The faces of my kin, now long gone, flash before my mind's eye.

"But then came the cataclysm," I say, my tone heavy with sorrow. "A great disaster that tore our world asunder. Most perished; the few who survived scattered into the darkness. I alone remained here, in these ruins, hoping that one day... perhaps someone would find me."

Lara listens intently. The bioluminescent moss casts a soft glow over her features, highlighting the delicate contours of her face.

"I have been alone for so long," I admit, my voice softer now. "Your presence here... it is unexpected but not unwelcome."

Her expression softens slightly; the fear in her eyes gives way to something else—understanding, perhaps?

"Zyrith," she whispers, testing my name on her tongue. "Thank you for sharing your story."

I nod slowly, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in her words. It is a small comfort amidst the vast emptiness of my existence.

The air between us fills with an unspoken understanding. Her eyes, now more curious than fearful, explore my form as if seeking to understand the being that has become her unlikely protector.

"You... you stayed with me," she whispers, her voice a fragile thread in the cavernous space.

I nod, the motion slow and deliberate. "I could not let you be harmed," I reply. The words feel heavy, laden with centuries of solitude that have now been disrupted by this unexpected presence.

She shifts slightly, testing the limits of my grip before relaxing further. Her body language speaks volumes—tentative trust beginning to replace raw fear.

"Zyrith," she says again, more firmly this time. "Why did you stay here all these years? Why not leave?"

Her question stirs memories of a world lost to time, a civilization buried beneath the weight of cataclysm and sorrow. "This place... it is all I have known for centuries," I say. "To leave would be to abandon the last remnants of my people."

Her eyes soften with empathy, a warmth that reaches into the cold recesses of my existence.

I release her arm gently, sensing that she no longer needs my physical restraint to remain calm. She does not pull away; instead, she stays close, her presence a balm to my ancient loneliness.

"Will you tell me more about your people?" she asks softly.

I find myself willing to share more of my past with this curious human who has stumbled into my world. "Yes," I say simply. "But first... let us find you some comfort."

As we move deeper into the chamber together, I realize that this fragile connection—this bridge between us—holds the promise of understanding and acceptance within these forgotten depths.

9

LARA

As we make our way deeper into the chamber, Zyrith tries to further comfort me. His voice, a low, deep rumble, fills the chamber. "Lara, you are safe here."

My pulse finally slows to a steady rhythm. I study his face, noting the cracks and grooves that tell of ages past. His fingers brush my arm, a surprising warmth radiating through my chilled skin, soothing my frazzled nerves. His touch is gentle, incongruent with his massive form.

"Why are you being kind to me?" I ask with a surprised tone, curiosity edging out fear now.

"I have been alone for centuries," he says. "Your presence... it brings light to my darkness."

I blink at him, absorbing his words. There's an honesty in his tone that I can't ignore. The initial terror I felt begins to ebb away, replaced by a cautious interest. My surroundings come into clearer focus: the bioluminescent moss casting a soft glow, the distant drip of water echoing through the chamber.

Though a part of me still yearns for home—the familiar faces of Aiden and Maya, the safety of Kantor—I feel a warmth blossoming within me. It’s a sense of belonging I never quite found in the bustling city.

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