Page 23 of Monster's Maiden

I shake my head, tears blurring my vision. "You don't understand what you're asking of me."

"Perhaps not," he concedes. "But I believe you'll find peace here."

Peace? How can I find peace when I'm bound and confined to this cavern? My spirit feels like a caged bird fluttering against its confines.

As the minutes stretch into eternity, resignation seeps into my core. Fighting him feels like trying to stop a river with bare hands—pointless and exhausting. Maybe... maybe if I bide my time, I'll find another way out.

Sadness wraps around me like a thick, suffocating fog. I keep trying to loosen the vines, but they hold me tight, their rough texture biting into my skin. The cold rock beneath me chills my bones, reminding me of the warmth I'll never feel again.

Aiden and Maya's faces flash before my eyes. Their laughter, their camaraderie—those moments feel like a lifetime ago. A lump forms in my throat as I think about the familiar paths of Kantor, the way the lantern lights that lined the stone paths twinkled like stars in the night. My chest tightens at the thought of never walking those streets again.

I long for the scent of pine in the air, the crisp bite of winter wind against my cheeks. Here, in this oppressive darkness, all I have is the faint glow of moss and Zyrith's unyielding presence. My friends are out there somewhere, probably worried sick about me, and yet I'm trapped in this underground tomb with no hope of escape.

"What would Aiden do?" I mutter to myself. He'd never give up; he'd find a way out, no matter how dire things seemed. But I'm not Aiden. I don't have his unshakeable resolve or Maya's quick wit. All I have is a crushing sense of defeat.

Zyrith watches me with those unreadable eyes. "You look troubled," he says, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through the chamber.

"Of course I'm troubled," I snap back. "You've taken everything from me."

He tilts his head, a gesture that might be considered curious if he were human. "I offer you companionship."

"Companionship?" I laugh bitterly. "What kind of companionship involves tying someone down?"

His gaze hardens, and for a moment, I think he might argue. Instead, he turns away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Tears blur my vision as memories flood back—hunting trips with Aiden and Maya, sharing stories by the fire, the simple joy of being free to roam wherever we pleased. Now all that's gone, replaced by this eternal night.

I close my eyes and let the tears fall. Maybe if I let myself grieve for what I've lost, I'll find some strength to face whatever comes next. For now, though, all I can do is mourn the life that was stolen from me by this monstrous fate.

Hours pass—or maybe it's days; time has lost its meaning in this underground tomb. The vines still hold me tight, but my struggle has waned. Zyrith's massive form shifts in the shadows, always watching but never threatening. A strange sense of calm washes over me.

I hear a soft shuffle of movement, then feel something warm and fragrant pressed to my lips. I open my eyes to find Zyrith holding a bowl filled with a steaming broth. It seems hearty and inviting.

"Eat," he says simply.

I hesitate but the gnawing hunger in my stomach overrules my pride. I sip the broth and its warmth spreads through me, momentarily pushing away the chill that has settled into my bones.

As I drink, I can't help but study him. He seems almost softer in this dim light, his rough edges somehow less menacing.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask between sips.

"Because you need it," he replies.

His words are simple but carry a weight that makes me pause. Despite everything, he is taking care of me. It doesn't erase what he's done or how trapped I feel, but it's a sliver of hope in an otherwise bleak existence.

With each passing day, Zyrith's small acts of kindness continue to surprise me. His rough hands, so capable of crushing, instead offer warmth and sustenance. I sip the broth he provides, the flavors mingling on my tongue. Each sip brings a little more life back into my weary body.

He loosens the vines enough for me to sit up, allowing blood to flow back into my numb limbs. The relief is immediate, and I mutter a quiet "Thank you."

I can't seem to ignore the gentleness in his actions. He doesn't need to be kind—yet he is.

As I finish the broth, Zyrith offers me a piece of fruit I've never seen before. Its vibrant color stands out against the dim glow of the moss. I bite into it hesitantly, and its sweet, tangy flavor floods my senses.

"Why do you care so much about me?" I ask, unable to keep the curiosity from my voice.

"You are here with me," he says simply. "And you are mine to protect."

His words send a shiver down my spine—not entirely from fear. There's a possessiveness in his tone that should terrify me, but instead it... comforts me. The thought unsettles me more than I'd like to admit.

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