Page 16 of Mated to the Monster God

ESME

I pound a wooden table with shaking hands, clearing a space for the whole colony.

The makeshift council circle forms in the flickering torchlight—each face drawn tight with fear, anger, uncertainty.

My voice cracks with urgency. “I’m calling this meeting because Krenshaw is demanding sunrise. If we don’t comply?—”

Tara stands beside me, eyes soft with worry. She steps forward. “We can’t run blindly. There has to be another way.”

Rick leans heavily on his cane, mouth soap-box loud. “We drop tool and flee tonight. No offense, Esme, but I won’t work in a bloody factory under those suits.”

Murky grumbles of agreement roll across the circle.

Blondie raises a hand, exposing her palms as though they're dry-ruled slates. “Wait. I discovered something—something that could change this fight.” Instinct urges me to hush her, but curiosity claws at my lips. “The extra resin I extracted from the feverbloom cuttings… It’s potent. I tested it on a rat’s wound—it doubled the speed and quality of healing. ”

Silence crashes the tent.

The resin smell lingers—sharp, floral, sacred—under flickering flames. Medical tools and ration containers seem to hold their breath along with everyone else.

“This… could save us,” I whisper, voice hollow with promise.

Blondie nods, swallowing hard. “If I can synthesize larger quantities, we could make medigel stretches last twice as long. Save lives. Maybe enough to buy time.”

Tara's gaze sharpens. “That’s what Krenshaw needs,” she adds, testing the air. “Access to that resin.”

The thought hums in my brain like trapped static. Krenshaw wasn’t bluffing when he pointed at me. He wanted me, or my mother’s discovery, alive.

Rick pours sweat onto the floor, scowling. “They’ll come back in the morning. Sunrise. Without this resin, we’re just targets.”

I shake my head, steady myself. “We won’t run.” Determination ignites. “We dig in. We secure the resin. We prepare defenses.”

A ripple of murmurs moves through the settlers.

“I’ve figured out ration safeties,” Tara says. “We’ll ration with the resin medigel. Every dose counts.”

“I’ll hunt,” Morty pipes up. “Trap more feverbloom plants.”

Jimmy, clutching his gadget parts, pipes nervously, “Protect the station.”

Even Rick looks stiff with renewed fire.

Hope is a fragile flame—but it’s lit again.

I step into the center, warming my hands on the table. “We fight.”

Tara places her hand on mine. “Together.”

A tremor runs through me—fear and fierce protectiveness coiling into resolve. Krenshaw thinks us weak, but he’s about to find out he’s never faced a colony with heart, with something wild and burning to defend.

Rain pulses against the canvas of Sweetwater like a frantic drumbeat. Thin rays of lantern light flicker across slick leaves, muggy earth, and the drawn faces of colonists huddled inside the tent. I slip out, taking air that tastes like wet dirt and adrenaline.

The resin vial thuds against my thigh—cool, heavy with potential. Thoughts aren’t yet coherent, just pure drive. I have to do this.

I emerge onto the path that leads into the forest, where moonlight fractures through leaves. Boots squelch in mud. Insects shriek behind damp trunks. Wind smells like moss and fear—it’s what fuels me, what pushes me forward.

My lungs ache when I sense movement—a predator’s grace beneath rain’s murmur. Sagax.

He steps into the glow of a bent lantern, dripping with water, skin supple in dark bronze. His eyes shoot gold fire.

“Esme,” he says, voice low as thunder. Every syllable weighs. “What are you doing?”

My steps falter. I turn, hands trembling, the vial cupped against me.

“I’m trying to save everyone,” I manage, voice thick.

He exhales, chest heaving. “Or you’re trying to flee from what this means.”

Lightning splinters the sky, painting his face in half-shadow—half-scaled, half desperate. I shiver, wanting to soothe and push away both instincts.

“I can’t just wait for Krenshaw to take us apart,” I whisper. “That resin… it’s our only leverage. We cannot survive what’s coming.”

His claws scrape against the wooden post. Wood cracks along the grain. “You’re stealing from your own—your mother.”

I curl the vial tighter. Cloudburst rain sluices around us, soaking through every layer. The forest sighs.

“It’s not theft. It’s a lifeline,” I whisper.

He advances, rain sliding from his shoulders like molten metal. “You’re risking yourself,” he says, voice gritty. “All for a hope.”

“Because hope is more than staying alive,” I pause, chasing breath. “It’s about living .”

The air crackles between us—wet tension, fear, something savage beneath the water’s wash.

He bares his teeth—not a snarl, but a need. “I’d die before you go in unprotected.”

I blink against the rain. “I’m not asking for your blessing... only your understanding.”

His chest convulses. “I don’t understand chaos wearing your face.”

Something in me breaks at the fracture of his words. I step closer, rain bathing us both in electric cold. "Maybe you never will," I say. “That’s not your burden to bear.”

He flares up in a shudder that sends the leaves sizzling in response. “I won’t stop you,” he says, voice cutting.

I turn away and start through the trees, every step a stab in my soul.

Sagax reaches after me, grabs my shoulder—cool scales burning through my soaked jacket.

I yank free. “Let me go!” I hiss. “Let me try!”

He steadies himself. My vision catches—snippets—his jaw tightened, fire as rain spears through his silhouette. I don't look back again.

I race away until rain and tears blur into one. Jagged roots grab my boots. The forest closes behind me.

Unknown to me, above in the hush of branches, he slips into shadow, watching... waiting.

I walk through the hush of the forest toward the sleek gleam of the Helios Combine shuttle like I’m walking into the mouth of a wound.

Each breath tastes of rainwater and fear— metallic, cold.

My jacket clings to me, soaked into a second skin.

The forest seems to hold its breath. Night has flattened into anticipation.

Krenshaw stands just beyond the faint underside glow of the shuttle ramp. Half-machine, half-man, the pallid skin stretched tight over metal skull, tracing expression like wires under silk. Rain trickles down his face, not washing away the permanence.

I clutch the resin vial inside my jacket pocket—a promise and a prayer. Memories of Sagax burned across my senses—his betrayal, his fear, his love. Guilt coils in my gut. But I press forward.

He smiles—too smooth, too practiced. The air thins when he speaks. “So, Miss Cruise, you’ve brought the cure.”

His voice rattles like wine in a crystal glass. I swallow—past the lump in my throat.

“I did.” The words taste bitter. “I want to make a deal.”

His eyes narrow. The skin tightens. I can almost hear the metal in his chest ticking. “Proceed.”

I hold out the vial. The resin glows softly, opalescent. “This is feverbloom resin. Double medigel effectiveness. Enough for the colony to survive.”

He tilts the vial, golden light dipping into the blue of his hovercraft’s glow. “Impressive.”

I swallow. Wet grass shifts under my boots. Rain draws down my eyelashes. “I want a promise—no forced resettlement, no factory slavery. Leave us in peace.”

He sets the vial on a nearby crate with reverence. “Such generosity in the rain.” He laughs—thin and aloof. Then he leans forward. He touches the vial with a finger, smears resin between thumb and forefinger. Pulls it back to his face.

“I’ll take the resin,” he says softly. “But I’d like something more valuable in return.”

My heart stops.

He smiles wider—with no warmth. “Your bloodline is... unique. I intend to extract pain. Transform you. Into a Baragon.”

Auroras explode behind my eyes. “What—what are you?”

“I’m an evolutionary architect,” he replies, his voice silk drowning in malice. “Your blend of human and terra-adapted genetic markers could yield something exquisite.”

“Don’t,” I manage, wet fingers clenched on my jacket.

He leans in. Resin drips from his fingers—like grafted life. “Your agony will be symmetrical. Pain that bleeds into perfection. And when you ‘ascend,’ your value to me will be beyond price.”

I feel the world quake beneath that promise.

“I... I won’t be your puppet,” I choke out.

He laughs, cold as cut emerald. “Oh, you will. And you’ll enjoy every second of the metamorphosis.”

A scream rips out of me—pure, primal—rage, fear, heartbreak woven into one cry.

Lightning. Or rather, gold fire. Something crashes from the treetops—a living shadow, claws splayed, golden eyes bursting into molten flame.

Sagax lands before me—muscle, fangs, raw, all hunger and protection. His wings, faint ripple only I can sense, splay in the charged air.

“STEP AWAY FROM HER,” Sagax roars, voice toppling thunder.

Krenshaw freezes, resin dripping from his palm. I stand behind Sagax, trembling, blood pounding like war drums.