Page 22 of Monster's Maiden

"You don't see it yet," I continue, my voice softer now, almost pleading. "But in time, you will come to cherish these moments we share. The world above may have its allure, but it has nothing that we cannot create here together."

Her silence speaks volumes—an internal struggle mirrored in her eyes. Yet she does not pull away from me; perhaps some part of her recognizes the truth in my words.

We reach a more familiar part of the cavern—the place where she first awoke in my presence. The dim light here is almost comforting now, casting gentle shadows that dance across the walls like ancient spirits bearing witness to our bond.

I turn to face her fully, letting my hand fall away but staying close enough to feel her warmth. "Lara," I say again, more gently this time, "give this place a chance. Give us a chance."

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment—just a fleeting moment—I see something shift in their depths. Not fear or apprehension but something softer, something that gives me hope.

And in that fragile connection, I find the strength to believe that one day she will see what I see: that this cavern is not just a refuge from the world above but a home—a home where we can both belong.

I take a deep breath, steadying the turmoil inside me. "Lara," I say, my voice firm, "you will love this one day."

Her eyes widen, shimmering with unshed tears. She doesn't respond, but her silence speaks volumes. I see her chest rise and fall in quick, shallow breaths, her vulnerability laid bare before me.

With deliberate care, I reach for the thick vines hanging from the cavern walls. The bioluminescent moss casts a faint glow over us, highlighting every tremor in her delicate frame. I approach her slowly, each step echoing in the ancient chamber.

"It's for your own good," I murmur. She doesn't resist as I guide her to a smooth rock slab. Her eyes remain fixed on mine.

I position her arms above her head and secure them with the vines. They wrap around her wrists snugly. She flinches at the contact but does not pull away. The tears that have gathered in her eyes now spill over, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.

Her submission tugs at something deep within me—that flicker of hope that perhaps she will come to accept this life with me. I finish tying her down, ensuring she is secure.

As I step back to observe my work, a sense of satisfaction mingles with a strange tenderness. Her silent cries pierce through the cavern's gloom, each tear a testament to the bond we are forging.

In my ancient heart, I believe she will understand one day. She will see this sanctuary for what it truly is: a place of safety and belonging.

"Lara," I say, my voice reverberating through the chamber, "you are not alone here. We have each other."

She closes her eyes, fresh tears streaming down her face. Yet she remains still, her silence an unspoken acceptance of our shared fate.

In that moment, amidst the glow of bioluminescent moss and the echoing silence of the cavern, I hold onto the belief that she will come to cherish this life we are creating together—one step at a time.

13

LARA

Vines dig into my wrists, each twitch reminding me of the pitiful state I find myself in. The rock slab beneath me is cold and unforgiving, pressing into my bones through my thin clothing. My shoulders slump under the weight of it all, and I feel the edges of despair creeping closer.

Why fight? Zyrith's overwhelming presence fills every corner of this chamber. His eyes, those unyielding orbs, never stray far from me. Resistance seems as futile as shouting at the wind.

"Please, try and settle down," Zyrith rumbles from across the cavern, his voice a deep vibration that resonates through my chest. He stands tall and immovable, like an ancient sentinel.

I swallow hard, my mouth dry. "Why are you doing this?" My voice sounds small, even to my own ears.

"For your own good," he repeats himself. "You need time to understand."

Understand what? That I'm his captive? That my freedom now belongs to the shadows of this forgotten realm?

The bioluminescent moss casts a dim glow, painting Zyrith in shades of blue and green. He moves closer, and every step makes my heart pound louder. His touch earlier had been gentle yet firm, but now there's an unmistakable determination in his gaze.

"You're not alone here," he says. "I'm with you."

His words should comfort me, but they only deepen the pit in my stomach. The thought of never seeing daylight again, never feeling the cold breeze on my face —it's too much to bear.

I pull against the vines once more. My fingers are numb from the tightness. "This isn't right," I whisper to myself, though I'm certain he hears it too.

Zyrith sighs, a sound like grinding rocks. "In time, you'll see things differently."

---