Sev
Someone is makingan awful racket at the edge of my wards. Terribly rude when I am on my back porch, staring into the abyss that I imagine Lake Galen to be.
I am not melancholy.
I refuse to use that label.
I simply lack the motivation to care about anyone or anything in the world at the moment.
Including myself.
The sensation shall pass, as it always does. But not if that terrible banging continues.
“Seems someone wishes to die today,” I murmur to the cicadas as I push up from my rocking chair.
The wooden seat may appear simple, but the repetitive movement soothes me in a way little can.
My mate could soothe me. If only I could locate them.
Over two centuries old, and I still have not come across the one I am destined to partner with. A lesser mythic than me might start to doubt the existence of a fated mate.
But I am a spectacular being. The gods would not have overlooked me when making destined matches. They might only wait a stretch of time in order to properly fashion the perfect mate.
Someone who looks …
Someone who is …
Someone who will …
Well, I’m not quite sure exactly what traits the mate of the most powerful monster to exist will possess. Most likely, they will be in great danger, and I’ll use my wiles and accumulated treasures to rescue them, and they will fall lovingly into my arms to adore me for the rest of their immortal existence.
Immortal.
That. That is the task I should be focusing on. The preparation I should be making.
After my last plan failed, I should have immediately resumed plotting. Instead, I’ve been rocking and ruminating.
How dare this interloper interrupt my ruminating?
I stride with fluid grace, my silk robe billowing around my body as I reenter my house and approach the front entrance. There’s no hesitation as I open the front door, seeing as how my wards will keep any unwanted guests from crossing the threshold.
Especially if they wish me harm.
As the monstrous creature snarling in front of me most surely does.
Even in the dark night, I see him clearly. Not quite wolf, not quite water creature. Fur blends with scales—sometimes seamlessly, other places awkwardly. Paws with elongated toes sport webbing and end in wicked sharp claws. The face is a terror—a snout sporting fangs that could pierce and tear flesh with ease and a heavy brow over eyes that are dark with promised violence.
I’m almost impressed by the display of fury.
I didn’t think the cowed monster had it in him.
“Ah. Bosephus Folan. You’re looking less stiff than the last time I saw you.”
The monster roars, a deep, rending noise that might make a lesser mythic than me wary. But I have nothing to fear from this monster.
He is incapable of hurting me.
His surprise arrival is interesting though. I always suspected that I would know when Bo’s curse was broken. That there would be a waver in the ether, alerting me to an enemy unlocked from their cage. Not that Bo had begun as an enemy. But I’m sure that’s how he views me now.
