Page 2 of Demon Seed (Mated to the Monster: Season 3)

Selene

Earlier that evening

T he sacred grove breathes around me, ancient trees swaying in a dance older than memory. I trace my fingers along the rough bark of an oak, feeling the slow pulse of life beneath my touch. This is what it means to be a nymph—to exist between worlds, neither fully divine nor mortal, but something precious and rare.

My mother often proudly speaks of our lineage, tracing our bloodline to Apollo himself. “We are the daughters of gods,” my mother reminded me yesterday, her eyes flashing like sunlight through leaves. “We must preserve what makes us divine.”

I understand my family’s caution. Nymphs have guarded their bloodlines for centuries, careful not to dilute the sacred blood that flows through our veins. Those who have chosen mortal lovers often fade faster, their children born with only whispers of our gifts. Some elders speak of these unions as betrayals—not just of our kind, but of the essence that makes us who we are.

Yet, as I stand at the edge of our territory, watching the kingdoms in the valley below, I cannot help but wonder what it might be like to walk among them, not just as an observer, but as something more. To feel what they feel. To love as they love—with desperate intensity and beautiful brevity.

“Dangerous thoughts, Selene,” I whisper, pulling away from the boundary stones. The wind carries my words away, but the doubt remains, settling in my chest like a seed waiting for spring.

Change is coming—I can feel it in my bones, and I don’t believe I’m meant to fight something this big.

My mother warned me not to yearn for the unknown. “Selene,” she’d said, her eyes reflecting stars that died a millennia ago, “our divine blood is both blessing and burden. The gods may have forgotten us, but their essence remains in our veins.”

I pause by the stream, watching my reflection ripple across the surface.

“Thinking about that human again?” My sister, Naia, appears beside me, her flower-petal dress shimmering with dew.

I don’t answer—I don’t need to. My silence says far more than any words.

“Don’t put too much stock in dreams,” Naia continues, dipping her toes in the water. “You know what happened to our cousin Esme when she discovered her mate. Do you want that to happen to you?”

I do know. Esme’s stories are passed down as warnings—nymphs who diluted their divinity, whose children were born without the connection to the nature that sustains us. Some faded into nothing more than myths, their powers diminishing each generation until they became mortal. I’m not sure what became of the others who have gone astray because once they leave, no one speaks of them again.

But that’s not the worst fate. As horrific as it may be to live a mortal life, it is unfathomable to surrender our divinity to a creature of the night, forever extinguishing our light.

But still, I can’t forget the male from my dreams—he was unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. And I know I’m meant to see him again.

“Our world is changing,” I whisper, more to the stream than Naia. “Perhaps we must change with it.”

The water offers no answer, and I don’t wait for my sister’s reply.

The truth is that I’ve grown weary of remembrance without experience. The peaks, magnificent as they are with their crystalline spires piercing the clouds, have become my prison.

Last night, I discovered a narrow passage hidden behind the waterfall that feeds our gardens. For the first time, I felt the pull of possibility stronger than the weight of caution. I packed a small satchel—a dagger of obsidian, three vials of quicksilver, and the amulet my grandmother pressed into my palm on my eighteenth birthday.

“When the time comes,” she had whispered, her voice already fading, “this will show you that you’ve chosen the right path.”

I don’t believe she could fathom where my path might take me, but I need to follow it nonetheless.

I think that moment has arrived. An unfamiliar sensation has washed over me—a feeling I can’t quite identify. My body tingles with an intensity I’ve never experienced before, as if every sense is heightened to an extraordinary degree. It’s an overwhelming rush, a primal call that stirs from deep within, urging me to respond to instincts I didn’t know I had.

As I stand at the threshold now, the mist from the falls, dampening my skin. I can’t let my family stop me. They’ll speak of dangers, of demons and vampires who search for our kind, of the madness that takes those who venture too far from sacred ground. But they don’t understand. The questions burning inside me cannot be extinguished by their fears. If I am to know more about my place in our world and this craving that seems impossible to quench, I must leave this refuge and face whatever waits below.