Page 103 of Monster's Pretty Bride

I wrap an arm around her, pulling her to my side, as I look to the villagers, to my people.

"Lead the way," I say, my voice steady.

And as we follow them, I allow myself, to hope for a bright future.

46

ERYSS

Three months.

Three months since the war ended.

Three months since Naranus and I walked into the village, weary, battered, but alive. Since we chose to stay, to build something new from the ruins of our past.

And now?

Life is...different.

Not easy. But good.

Humans and gargoyles. Purna and warriors. Living together. Protecting each other. Who would have thought? Certainly not me.

I never imagined a life outside of my coven, away from the relentless grip of the Elders. I never thought I’d find solace among mortals, nor that Naranus, the warlord, the cursed warrior, the monster of legends, would become their guardian.

The village hums with life.

Children laugh as they weave between the market stalls, sticky fingers stealing pieces of fruit while their mothers scold them half-heartedly. Hunters return from the deep woods, dragging fresh game behind them. The forge clangs, iron striking iron, while the scent of fresh bread and herbs lingers in the air.

In the midst of it all, him.

Naranus stands near the training grounds, watching as a group of villagers spar under his instruction. He doesn’t bark orders like a tyrant, doesn’t command them with brute strength, he teaches, guides.

The humans trust him. Revere him.

Warlord, they still call him, though I suspect it’s different now. Not a title born of fear, but of respect.

My chest tightens as I watch him. He belongs here. We both do.

I exhale slowly, shaking my head as I return my focus to the festival preparations.

Tonight is the Harvest Celebration, the first since the war ended, and the villagers have spared no effort in preparing. Tables are laden with roasted meats, honey-glazed pastries, and pitchers of spiced ale. A great bonfire crackles at the village’s center, its golden light flickering against the dusk-painted sky.

There is music. Laughter. Hope.

I feel light, like the past has no bearing anymore.

But as the night unfolds, the peace is shattered—by my name.

“Eryss!”

I blink, turning as the village chief steps forward, raising his arms to silence the crowd. The murmur of conversation dies, and all eyes shift toward the long wooden platform where the elders sit.

Beside them, Naranus.

He stands tall, arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable. My stomach twists.

The chief gestures toward him with great reverence. “Tonight, before our people, our protector has something to say.”

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