The surface of the deep pool rippled ominously as the Cecaelia emerged, her pale, slick skin gleaming faintly in the dim light. Water dripped from her tentacle-covered lower half, each movement deliberate and calculated as she pushed herself out of the pool. Her black, glassy eyes scanned the room before locking onto the Harbormaster. The old man staggered backward in sheer panic, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  The Cecaelia tilted her head, her black, glassy eyes narrowing as she regarded the man trembling before her. Her expression flickered with confusion, her sharp features drawn into a questioning look. She slithered forward, her tentacles writhing beneath her like living shadows, their slick movements eerily quiet against the wet stone floor. She stopped just before him, her face inches from his, studying him with intensity.

  The Harbormaster’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his face pale and drenched with sweat. He stumbled back a step, his legs trembling violently beneath him. Her unblinking stare held him frozen, a predator assessing prey.

  Then, something shifted. Her brow furrowed, her lips parted slightly, and her eyes softened—just a fraction. Recognition flickered in her gaze, faint and uncertain, like a long-buried memory surfacing. Her movements slowed, her tentacles coiling and uncoiling absently, as if she were processing a revelation that was too overwhelming to fully comprehend.

  The Harbormaster’s knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground with a strangled cry. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up at her, his mouth opening and closing like a man drowning in his own guilt. "I’m sorry," he choked out, his voice thick and trembling. "I’m so sorry. I... I never meant..."

  Her expression darkened, confusion giving way to something far more complex—a swirling storm of pain, betrayal, and sorrow. She moved closer, lowering herself until her face was level with his, her tentacles pooling around him like an ominous tide. Her pale fingers reached out, trembling as they hovered near his face, her claws inches from his skin.

  Her body trembled, her pale skin seeming to grow even more ghostly under the dim light of the cavern. Her lips curled back slightly, revealing sharp teeth, but it wasn’t a snarl. It was a grimace of raw, unfiltered agony. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled over, mingling with the saltwater dripping from her hair and tentacles.

  The memories were there in her eyes—the fleeting moments of tenderness, the betrayal that shattered them, the life stolen from her. She let out a soft, keening sound, a low, mournful cry that seemed to echo with all the years of her suffering.

  "What he stole, your child...Is there." Kael spoke, pointing a clawed finger at the bundle infront of the shrine.

  The Cecaelia’s eyes narrowed, and she leaned down, her clawed hands reaching for the bundle. Kael silently watched as she unwrapped it. Slowly, she lifted the fabric and stared at the skeletal remains within.

  For a moment, everything was still.

  Her pale complexion somehow grew even whiter, as if all the color drained from her body. Her hands trembled as she reached out to the tiny bones, the malformed skull resting delicately in her long, webbed fingers. A strange series of chirping sounds escaped her lips, growing louder and more erratic until they morphed into heart-wrenching wails.

  Her cries erupted from her like a wound torn open, raw and unrelenting. The sound wasn’t just sorrow—it was anguish given form, the kind that clawed at the heart and left it bleeding. The cavern amplified the wails, turning them into a haunting chorus that seemed to reverberate through Kael’s very bones. She cradled the tiny, deformed remains to her chest, her pale fingers trembling as though the fragile bones might dissolve into dust at her touch.

  Kael felt his throat tighten, a deep ache settling in his chest as he watched the creature mourn. This was no mere beast—it was a mother, stripped of her child, robbed of everything.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Then her cries turned to something darker. Her black, glassy eyes snapped to the Harbormaster, who had fallen to his knees, trembling like a leaf. The sorrow in her gaze twisted into fury, a rage so primal it almost seemed to radiate off her in waves. A guttural growl rose from her throat, the sound of an animal pushed to its limit, and her tentacles lashed out violently, slamming against the damp stone floor with wet, sickening thuds.

  Before the old man could react, she surged forward in a blur of motion, her tentacles coiling around him like snakes. He let out a strangled cry as they wrapped around his arms, his torso, his legs, immobilizing him entirely. She was on him in an instant, her clawed hands seizing his throat as she pinned him to the ground with her full weight.

  Her face was inches from his, her black eyes boring into his soul. The tentacles writhed around them both, tightening as her claws dug into the thin, papery skin of his neck. The growl in her throat deepened, a sound so filled with fury that it made Kael’s hair stand on end.

  The Harbormaster’s face turned red as he gasped for air, his lips quivering as he tried to form words. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sweat that drenched his brow.

  Kael instinctively tensed, his hand moving to his sword. But he didn’t act. Not yet. Something in the way her hands trembled, in the brokenness behind her rage, made him pause.

  The Cecaelia’s grip tightened further, her claws pressing against the old man’s windpipe. Her growl became a choked sob, her whole body trembling. Then, just as suddenly as she had attacked, she froze. Her black eyes, once filled with fury, softened as she stared at him. Her claws slowly loosened their hold, sliding from his neck to cup his face.

  She chirped softly now, the sound broken and uneven, a language of grief and longing. Her tears fell freely, dripping onto the Harbormaster’s face as he lay beneath her, too paralyzed with fear and shame to move.

  Her chirps faded into whimpering sobs, her shoulders heaving with each breath. She caressed his weathered face with trembling fingers, her touch no longer threatening but mournful, like someone grieving the loss of what might have been.

  Finally, she turned away, releasing him from her grasp. The Harbormaster gasped and coughed as she withdrew. She clutched the remains tightly, her long, slender fingers curling around its edges as though it were the only anchor keeping her from drifting into madness.

  She cast a glance at Kael, her dark eyes glistening with tears. For a moment, their gazes locked, and he saw the depth of her pain, the shattered remnants of a mother who had suffered unimaginable loss. There was no hate in her eyes now—only despair, raw and unending.

  Without a sound, she turned and stepped into the deep pool. Her movements were slow, deliberate, her tentacles dragging behind her like a heavy weight. She sank into the water, the remains clutched to her chest. Her head dipped beneath the surface, leaving only ripples in her wake.

  Kael exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath. The chamber fell silent, save for the Harbormaster’s ragged sobs. The water stilled once more, as though the Cecaelia had never been there at all.

  The Harbormaster sat up slowly, his body trembling as he leaned against the cold, damp wall of the cavern. His breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps, and his hands shook as he wiped at his tear-streaked face. He stared at the still waters of the pool where the Cecaelia had disappeared, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  "Why… why did she spare me?" he croaked, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and shame.

  Kael, who had been kneeling beside Eleanor, glanced over his shoulder at the broken man. His expression was unreadable, but his tone carried a hard edge. "If I had to guess," he said, his voice low but firm, "it’s because she still loves you. Far more than you ever loved her."

  The Harbormaster lowered his gaze, his face crumpling under the weight of Kael’s words. He buried his head in his hands, his muffled sobs the only sound in the cavern.

  Kael turned back to Eleanor, his stern features softening as he knelt beside her. Her body lay motionless on the damp cavern floor, her skin pale and clammy under the dim, flickering light. Her dark hair clung to her cheeks, and her lips were tinged with an unsettling bluish hue.

  He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he rested it on her shoulder. "Eleanor," he murmured, his voice low but firm. He gave her a gentle shake, his eyes searching her face for any sign of life.

  She didn’t respond.

  Kael’s jaw tightened, his usually stoic demeanor cracking under the weight of his worry. He leaned closer, the faint warmth of her breath brushing against his cheek as he checked her shallow but steady breathing. Pressing two fingers to her neck, he found her pulse—weak, but present. Relief surged through him, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers in an uncharacteristic gesture of vulnerability.

  "Eleanor," he tried again, his voice firmer now, filled with quiet urgency.

  This time, she stirred faintly, a soft groan escaping her lips. Her head rolled to the side, and her fingers twitched weakly against the wet stone. Kael’s hand moved to the small of her back, steadying her as her eyelids began to flutter.

  "Eleanor," he said, his tone softening, but his words carried a quiet insistence.

  Her lashes parted, revealing dazed, unfocused eyes. She blinked several times, her gaze sluggishly moving to his face. "Kael?" she whispered, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

  A rare, fleeting warmth crossed his features. "I’m here," he assured her, his voice steady but laced with relief. "You’re safe."

  Eleanor’s brow furrowed as she glanced around the cavern, the eerie luminescence of the shrine casting long shadows across the jagged walls. Her confusion deepened, and she tried to sit up, her movements slow and unsteady. "What… happened?" she asked, her voice strained.

  Kael shook his head, his expression guarded once more. "It’s a long story," he said, slipping an arm under her shoulders to help her upright. "But we need to get out of here first."

  As she leaned into him, still disoriented, Kael’s hand remained firm on her back, his presence a steady anchor. Behind them, the Harbormaster’s broken sobs echoed faintly, a haunting reminder of what had transpired. Kael didn’t spare him a glance, his focus solely on Eleanor. Her safety was all that mattered.