I reached out with trembling hands and gently caressed the basilisk's massive head. Its scales were warm beneath my palms, rougher than I'd expected but strangely comforting.

  For a moment, the creature that had terrorized the town and my dreams showed a completely different side.

  Its remaining eye closed peacefully, and a soft rumble—almost like a purr—vibrated through its throat. The tension in its coils relaxed, and it nuzzled against my touch like Nox did when he wanted attention.

  My child... My tears are starting to blur my vision.

  It just wanted to come home.

  I realized even as a neutral monster, this basilisk—my basilisk—still wanted my affection. But I realized now that because of my state of mind back then, when I'd been consumed by grief and fury, the basilisk had been born with that same rage. It had inherited my emotional turmoil, my need for destruction.

  That's why it killed so many people. It wasn't malicious—it was just... angry. Like I was.

  But then, moments later, it stopped.

  The rumbling ceased. The eye didn't open again. The massive body went completely still beneath my hands.

  No...

  I pressed my ear against its head, searching desperately for any sign of life. But there was nothing. No heartbeat. No breathing. Just the terrible, final silence.

  The basilisk was dead.

  My basilisk is dead.

  "No, no, no..." I whispered, my voice breaking as I cradled its head against my chest. "You can't... you just got here. You just found me."

  Heartbreak crashed over me like a tidal wave, followed immediately by a surge of burning rage. Those bastards had killed it. They'd hunted my child, wounded it, tortured it until it had nothing left except the desperate need to reach me before it died.

  I'll kill them. Every last one of them. They had no right—

  But even as the fury consumed me, a colder truth cut through the rage.

  I couldn’t blame them.

  They'd done what they thought was right. What was right, from their perspective. A monster had been killing people, and they'd tried to stop it. They couldn't have known it was just trying to get home to its mother.

  At the end, it was all my fault.

  If I hadn't lost control that night. If I'd been stronger, smarter, better...

  My child would still be alive.

  I held the basilisk's head closer, my tears falling onto its scarred scales as Nox and Fei watched in confused silence. They could feel my grief through our bond, but they couldn't understand why I was mourning the death of something that should have been our enemy.

  “I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

  Before I could mourn any further, I heard footsteps. Multiple of them.

  Adventurers. Probably the ones who did this.

  My first instinct was to confront them, to demand answers, to make them pay for what they'd done to my child. But even through my grief and rage, I knew better.

  I'm not in the right state of mind right now. I'll do something stupid, something I'll regret.

  Just like when I'd lost control and created the basilisk in the first place.

  No. Not again.

  I pressed one last kiss to the basilisk's scaled head, then forced myself to stand up.

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  I whispered. "I’m sorry."

  I commanded Nox to run and hide, to stay out of sight until I called for him. My massive wolf gave the basilisk's corpse one last look, then bounded away into the thick underbrush. I could feel him settling into a concealed position nearby, ready to respond if I needed him.

  Then I climbed onto Fei's back, as I directed him to take us up high, high enough that the approaching group couldn't see us clearly.

  Below, I could see the group emerging from the treeline. There were five figures but I had hard time seeing their faces due to our distance.

  One of them, a young man with sandy brown hair, broke into a run when he spotted the basilisk's body.

  His teammates followed more cautiously, weapons drawn, scanning the area for threats. They were definitely not some ordinary group of adventurers.

  They were probably from the capitol.

  I watched them examine the basilisk, part of me wanting to dive down and demand answers, another part grateful for the distance between us and my grief.

  After one last look at the basilisk's still form below, I commanded Fei to get us back to town. The massive eagle banked sharply, his wings catching the air as we turned away from the meadows.

  I also directed Nox to follow us back, sensing his confusion through our bond as he emerged from his hiding spot.

  The wind whipped past my face as we flew toward Oakenford. My hands clutched Fei's feathers until my knuckles went white, my chest tight with grief I couldn't release.

  Within a few minutes the town walls came into view ahead of us.

  I forced myself to sit straighter on Fei's back, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

  Whatever came next, I needed to keep it together.

  For myself..

  And for my monsters…

  =====

  3rd POV

  Marcus stared down at the cold, dead body of the basilisk, and all he felt was emptiness.

  Gone was the rage that had consumed him for days. Gone was the anguish, the desperate need for vengeance. Just... nothing.

  A few days ago, when they'd arrived in Oakenford, he'd been heartbroken to learn that his grandfather was truly dead. All his hopes, all his stubborn belief that the old man had somehow survived—crushed in an instant.

  But then he'd found Jorik.

  His childhood friend had been working at the market, hauling goods with the hollow look of someone who'd lost everything. They'd grown up together in Millbrook, and seeing Jorik alive had been both a relief and a fresh wound.

  Jorik had told him the full story. How knights from Drakmoor had attacked their village first, burning everything to the ground. How the survivors had fled into the forest, only to be attacked by bandits on the road days later. How someone named Vera had tried to save them all, including Grandfather Henrik. How in the end, the bandits and this basilisk had killed everyone anyway.

  Vera.

  Marcus had wanted to meet this Vera, to thank her for trying to save his grandfather. But first, he'd needed to deal with the rage burning inside him like poison.

  With the Drakmoor knights long gone and the bandits already dead, there had been only one target left for his fury.

  The basilisk.

  Marcus had spent the past few days tracking it through the forest, following reports and rumors, driven by the need to make something pay for his grandfather's death. His teammates had followed without question, probably thinking he'd lost his mind.

  Thank god they were here, he thought, glancing at Leon, Lydia, and the others. They'd helped him hunt this thing down, had his back even when his judgment was clouded by grief.

  But now, staring at the massive corpse, Marcus felt nothing but hollow emptiness.

  Killing it hadn't brought his grandfather back. It hadn't filled the hole in his chest or made the pain go away.

  It was just... over.

  His teammates approached slowly. Leon placed a heavy hand on Marcus's shoulder, while Lydia touched his arm gently.

  "Hey," Leon said quietly. "You alright?"

  Marcus didn't answer. Couldn't answer. What was there to say?

  "We'll give you some time," Lydia said softly, exchanging a meaningful look with Leon. "Take as long as you need."

  The team moved away, giving Marcus space to stand alone beside the basilisk's corpse. They gathered near a cluster of trees about twenty yards away, their voices low but audible.

  "Damn thing was tougher than I expected," Flint muttered, spitting into the dirt as he cleaned basilisk blood from his axe blade. "Stubborn too."

  "Kept trying to bolt every chance it got," Leon said, rolling his shoulder where the creature's tail had clipped him. "Three days of chasing it through these bloody woods."

  Rhys nodded, tucking away his unused healing supplies. "It wasn't running randomly though. Always headed northwest, no matter how we bait it. Like it was trying to reach something."

  "Aye, I noticed that too." Flint scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Could've had a mate somewhere. Or maybe young ones hidden away."

  "Whatever it was heading for, we cut it off just in time," Leon said, glancing back at Marcus's still form.

  Leon glanced back at Marcus, who remained motionless beside the corpse. "I'm worried about him. This isn't healthy."

  "Can't blame the lad," Flint said gruffly. "What happened to Millbrook... it's got people talking all over the kingdom."

  "Drakmoor knights," Rhys spat, his usual calm demeanor cracking. "Attacking civilians while we're supposed to be united against the Eastern Empire."

  Lydia shook her head. "King Malachar's getting bolder. First the border skirmishes, now this. Makes you wonder what he's really planning."

  "Politics," Leon said grimly. "Always comes down to politics. And innocent people pay the price."

  They fell into contemplative silence.

  "Think he'll be okay?" Rhys asked, his pointed ears drooping with concern.

  Leon glanced back at their friend. "Eventually. But this is going to take time."

  They continued talking in hushed tones, keeping watch while Marcus processed his grief in solitude.