Page 40 of The Monster's Daughter
The word tastes wrong in my mouth.
Glimner’s capital platforms stretch wide and gleaming, stacked terraces that smell of saltwater and fried sugar. Artificial waves crash below, echoing faintly, while shuttle rails hum overhead. The crowds press close—humans, Vakutans, Brall, all sweating in the heat of a sun that isn’t real.
I keep my head down, shoulders hunched, cloak tight around my scales. Still, people stare. A Grolgath isn’t a common sight here.
But I don’t care. My senses are sharper than the noise, tuned for one thing only.
There.
High on a lifeguard’s chair, hair tied back, skin gold under the false sun. Whistle glinting red against her throat.
Bella.
I forget how to breathe.
For a second, my knees nearly buckle. The crowd blurs around me, voices melting into static. She’s here. She’s real. She survived.
But then I see her.
The child.
A tiny girl splashing at the edge of the pool, chasing a flotation ring half her size. Her laugh cuts through the crowd like a blade, high and wild, bubbling with life.
It hits me harder than any shell, any explosion. A railgun to the chest.
My claws curl into fists. My throat locks.
She has a child.
I don’t know who the father is. I don’t want to know. I don’t have the right to ask.
The sight burns and freezes me all at once.
Bella’s alive. But she built a life without me. A life I don’t belong in.
I turn to leave. My chest feels split open, raw. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe hope is just another kind of cruelty.
Then it happens.
Her head turns. Green eyes scan the crowd.
They land on me.
She freezes. The whistle slips from her lips, falls, clatters against the metal deck.
Our eyes lock.
The noise of the crowd fades. The wave pool roars but I don’t hear it. The world holds its breath.
She moves first—down from the chair, across the deck, steps quick and uneven. Her hair whips in the artificial breeze, the sun painting fire across it.
When she reaches me, her lips part. Her voice is a whisper, fragile as glass.
“Are you real?”
My claws tremble at my sides.
Words feel useless.
