The sky, once an endless expanse of darkness, suddenly split open, revealing a crack through which golden rays poured down like a divine flood. These luminous beams pierced the oppressive gloom, casting an eerie yet beautiful glow on the earth below. And from that celestial breach, something fell—dark as the void between stars.

The creature descended silently, as if it were a shadow itself, landing with the softness of a feather upon a desolate beach. Yet, it paid no mind to the golden sands beneath its feet or the whispers of the sea around it. Its mind was a churning vortex of despair, a turmoil so deep and endless that it consumed all thought. It sobbed, releasing a cry so harrowing that it seemed to shake the very foundation of the world. The cry was not just a sound but a force, a wave of anguish that rippled through the heavens and earth alike.

In response, the sky, once touched by golden light, darkened as if it were nightfall. The sea, which had been calm, became violent, thrashing against the shore with a fury that matched the creature's inner torment. The island trembled, its golden sands dissolving as if washed away by the tide of sorrow. From the earth, jagged spikes of dark stone erupted, transforming the paradise into a wasteland of jagged rocks and twisted spires. At the center of this bleak transformation, a dark spire, twisted and gnarled, rose from the ground like a cursed tree, reaching futilely for a sun now hidden behind a curtain of clouds.

The creature unfurled its massive, leathery wings, tears streaming down its face in endless rivulets, as if the heavens themselves were weeping through it. Its eyes, dark and beady, gazed upwards, yearning for the sky to open once more, to reclaim it from the abyss. But the sky remained a pitch-black void, a reverse river of tar that showed no mercy, no hint of the light it once offered. A horrific howl escaped its fanged mouth, a sound born from the deepest chasms of its broken heart.

With a heavy flap of its wings, the creature lifted off the ground and soared to the top of the dark spire. There, a cave appeared, its mouth like a yawning void, cold and uninviting. Yet, the creature entered, accepting the stone's cold embrace as its sanctuary, its prison. It fell to its knees within the cave and sobbed, cried until its voice was hoarse, until the tears seemed as if they would never cease.

And then, one day, they did.

A sliver of light, no more than a thread, managed to pierce through the darkness of the cave, casting a gentle glow upon the creature. As the light bathed its form, something miraculous began to happen. The dark, rough skin that had once defined it began to dissolve, melting away like wax under a flame. From beneath the shadows, its true self emerged—the self it had lost, the self buried beneath layers of sin and sorrow.

Its skin, now revealed, was pure and white as marble, smooth and unblemished. Its features, sharp and balanced, radiated a cosmic beauty, as though the Creator Himself had crafted it with the utmost care. A golden robe materialized, wrapping gently around its athletic frame, as if to protect the world from being overwhelmed by its beauty. The creature's wings, now white and feathered, folded protectively around it, as if it feared losing them again.

With piercing golden eyes, it looked toward the cave's opening, where the full moon hung in the sky like a celestial eye, watching, judging. It stepped out of the cave and onto the peak of the spire. As it stood there, the golden robe slipped from its body and vanished, leaving it naked, exposed to the world.

Slowly, deliberately, the creature moved, its every motion a testament to its magnificence, its once-hidden beauty now laid bare. It posed, each movement an act of defiance, a declaration to the heavens that it was still beautiful, still divine. It sought to evoke envy, to stir regret in the heart of the Creator, to make the sky open once more and welcome it back home.

But the sky remained indifferent—silent, blind, and deaf to its pleas. The moon, its silent witness, was swallowed by the sea, leaving the creature alone in the darkness once more.

Then, the shadow beneath it trembled, a living thing that crept up its legs, coiling around its torso, slithering up its arms and neck, until it engulfed its head and wings. The creature was consumed once more, its form twisting back into the grotesque, monstrous thing it had once been.

With a cry of shame, it flew back to its cave, the cold stone walls closing in around it. It fell to the ground and wept.

The cycle repeated endlessly, a torment that stretched on for eons. Each time, the creature harbored a fragile hope deep within its heart, a desperate belief that this time, the outcome might be different. Every night, under the full moon's gaze, it flew to the peak of its obsidian spire, displaying its beauty to the indifferent world below. It offered itself to the sky, to the earth, to the sea—an eternal performance for an audience that never responded.

As the ages passed, small creatures began to appear—curious, fragile beings who walked on two legs. They emerged from the caves, seemingly from nowhere, their eyes wide with wonder and hunger for knowledge. They were a resourceful species, turning the wild beasts of the world into both companions and prey. The trees became their shelter, their warmth, their fuel, and their weapons. They shaped the stone and earth into walls, forging protection against the unknown dangers that lurked in the darkness.

These creatures spread across the world like a tide, driven by an insatiable curiosity and a relentless desire to conquer the land they were born into. No corner of the world was left unexplored by their kind, and yet, there remained one place that eluded them—the beast's island. Many sought to reach it, drawn by whispers of dark legends and forbidden mysteries, but none could pierce the island's defenses. The raging tides, the never-ending hail, and the howling tornadoes that surrounded it turned back every would-be explorer.

Yet, they persisted. Again and again, they tried, their determination unshaken even as the sea floor became littered with the bones of those who had failed. Despite their persistence, they could never achieve their dream. The island remained a forbidden sanctuary, its cursed shores untouched by human feet.

"And that's the end," the old woman said, her voice trailing off.

"No, Grandma! That can't be the end!" a young boy protested, his face scrunched up in disbelief. "What happened to the beast? Did the heavens finally welcome him back?"

A little girl, sitting beside him, looked up with wide, innocent eyes. "Did the sky open up for him, Grandma?" she asked, her voice soft with concern.

The old woman chuckled, amused by her grandchildren’s eagerness to hear more. Their eyes sparkled with the innocence and curiosity that only children possess, the kind that could believe in monsters and miracles with equal conviction.

Taking a sip of water from the glass beside her, the old woman cleared her throat, her voice cracking with age and use. After a few soft coughs, she continued her story.

"For thousands and thousands of years, civilization after civilization tried to reach the island," she began again, her voice gaining strength. "But the world is full of miracles, my dear ones, and one day, someone did reach that island."

The boy's eyes lit up with excitement. "Was it a warrior? Did he slay the beast?" he asked, jumping up from his seat and swinging his arms wildly as if wielding an invisible sword.

But Grandma shook her head slowly, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "No, no, child," she said gently. "It wasn’t a warrior with a sword."

"Shut up and listen, will you?" the girl said, giving her brother a playful shove.

"Sorry, Grandma," the boy muttered, his cheeks flushing as he sat back down, eager to hear what came next.

"It was a woman , little bit younger than the your mother. " Grandma wispered as if she just told them the world most important secret. "

"Blah . Why not a man ? " The boy asked dissipointed .

Grandma chuckled softly.

_____________

A woman lay sprawled on the shore, her body tangled in the remnants of metal and wood scattered around her—debris from her crashed plane. The wreckage was all that remained of her journey, now reduced to splinters and twisted steel by the unforgiving sea.

Suddenly, she bolted upright, her lungs seizing as she coughed violently, water pouring from her mouth as she fought to breathe. Her body convulsed with the effort, each cough a desperate attempt to purge the ocean from her lungs. When she finally managed to draw a ragged breath, she stood shakily, her legs trembling beneath her, and began brushing the sand from her soaked clothes.

“Fuck me,” she muttered under her breath as she took in her surroundings, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“Grandma!” the little girl exclaimed, her small voice tinged with shock and disapproval at the coarse language.

But the old woman ignored her granddaughter’s indignation, her focus entirely on the story as it unfolded in her mind’s eye.

The sky above was pitch black, a swirling mass of clouds that blotted out the stars and moon. The wind howled with a ferocity that made her feel as though it might lift her off the ground and hurl her into the abyss. In the distance, barely visible through the darkness, waves as tall as mountains roared and crashed, their thunderous sound echoing through the air. A bitter laugh escaped the woman’s lips, tears welling in her eyes as she grasped the gravity of her situation.

“I’m going to die here,” she murmured, the laughter fading into a hollow whisper as she wiped the tears from her face.

Her eyes drifted to a dense forest nearby and then to the massive, jagged peak that loomed over the island, its dark form piercing the sky like a dagger. Resolving to survive, she checked her boots, ensuring they were tightly secured, and then began cautiously moving towards the forest, her steps careful and deliberate.

The forest was unnervingly silent. Not a single leaf rustled, nor could she feel even the faintest breeze. The stillness was oppressive, a silence that seemed to suffocate the air around her. Yet, amidst this unnatural calm, her nose detected a faint aroma—a scent so divine, so tantalizing, that it called to her like a siren’s song.

She moved slowly, inching her way toward the source of the smell, her every sense on high alert. The thought of a trap crossed her mind more than once, but the fragrance was too alluring to ignore. She pushed deeper into the forest, her heart pounding in her chest.

Finally, she came upon a small clearing—a meadow bathed in the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the clouds. At the center of the clearing stood a lone peach tree, its branches heavy with ripe, golden fruit that shimmered as if made from the light of the sun itself. The sight was mesmerizing, almost magical, and she couldn’t resist its pull.

Glancing around to ensure she was alone, the woman cautiously approached the tree. She reached out, her delicate fingers brushing against the smooth skin of a peach. It felt cool and firm in her hand, and as she gently plucked it from the branch, the fruit fell into her palm, almost as if it had been waiting for her.

But the moment she bit into the fruit, a howl erupted from the island, a sound so powerful that it shook the ground beneath her feet. The entire island seemed to tremble in response, and before she could react, she heard the unmistakable sound of something massive crashing through the trees. Her instincts kicked in, and she bolted back into the forest, her heart pounding as she sprinted for cover.

She barely made it to the safety of the trees when a dark figure descended from the sky, landing with a thunderous crash on the very spot where she had stood. The creature was gargantuan, towering over the trees, its skin as dark and thick as tar. Its wings were vast and leathery, stretching out behind it like the sails of a ship, and atop its head, a pair of twisted horns jutted out like a crown, giving it the appearance of a dark king.

The beast's pitch-black eyes scanned the clearing, and when they locked onto her, it was as though they pierced straight into her soul. The intensity of its gaze froze her in place, her body paralyzed with fear.

"And then it ate her," the boy interrupted, his voice a mix of excitement and fear as he imagined the terrifying scene.

His sister, not appreciating the interruption, smacked him on the back of his head. "Shut up," she hissed, annoyed at his impatience.

The boy’s eyes welled up, ready to spill tears, but his grandmother, sensing his distress, reached out and patted his head gently. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead, and the boy, comforted by her affection, settled back into his seat, quiet and attentive once more.

The old woman continued, her voice dropping to a grave whisper, as if the weight of the story hung heavy in the air.

The beast took a step toward the woman, each movement causing the earth to quake beneath its massive feet. The trees trembled and the ground groaned under the weight of its presence. The woman could feel the vibration of its steps reverberating through her body, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the creature loomed closer.

“How dare you steal from me?” the beast growled, its voice deep and resonant, like the grinding of boulders, a sound that seemed to come from the very core of the earth. The accusation hung in the air like a death sentence, the gravity of its words sending a chill down her spine.

The woman’s heart raced, her mind spinning with fear and regret. She had no words, no defense—only the cold realization that she had angered something far beyond her understanding. The beast’s eyes bore into hers, its black gaze filled with ancient fury and unyielding judgment. She could feel its rage, its pain, as if the very air between them crackled with emotion.

A low grumble seemed to ripple through the silence, vibrating the air around them.

“What was that?” the beast asked, its deep voice echoing through the trees as it tilted its massive head, its sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

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“I’m… hungry,” the woman murmured, her voice barely a whisper, as she clutched her stomach instinctively.

The beast’s eyes flickered with confusion, its expression shifting from one of anger to one of puzzlement. “Hungry? What is that?” it asked, the words slow and deliberate, as though it were tasting the unfamiliar concept on its tongue for the first time.

“It’s a pain, a discomfort in the belly,” the woman explained, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. “It’s your body’s way of telling you that you need to eat something.”

The beast’s gaze softened, its head lowering slightly as it tried to grasp the meaning of her words. “Are you in pain?” it rumbled, its voice carrying a surprising note of concern.

“No,” the woman replied, shaking her head. “But I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten in hours.”

The beast’s eyes narrowed again, confusion evident in its dark gaze. “Hours? What is that?” it asked, the word sounding foreign in its gravelly voice.

“It’s a way we humans measure time,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady despite the fear still gnawing at her insides.

“Humans…” the creature murmured to itself, the word rolling off its tongue as if it were recalling a distant memory. “You are not the first of your kind to try and set foot on my island, but you are certainly the first to survive.” It paused, regarding her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. “How did you land here, on my island?”

“My plane was caught in the storm surrounding the island,” she explained, her voice growing stronger as she recounted the terrifying experience. “Somehow, I survived the crash and found myself here.”

The beast’s brow furrowed in thought. “What is a plane?” it asked, the question tinged with genuine curiosity.

“It’s a machine,” the woman replied, searching for the simplest way to describe it. “It looks like a bird, but it’s made of metal. It flies through the sky, carrying people from one place to another.”

The creature seemed to ponder this for a moment, its enormous hand coming up to rub its chin as if deep in thought. The motion was oddly human.

“You may have my peaches,” the beast said at last, its voice thoughtful, “but in exchange, you must tell me more about you, human.”

The woman nodded quickly, the relief almost overwhelming her as she realized that she was not going to be devoured, at least not immediately. The beast turned its massive back to her and sat down beside the peach tree, its dark wings folding against its body. The ground shook slightly as it settled, the trees around them rustling with the movement.

The woman cautiously approached the tree once more, her steps slow and measured. She glanced at the beast, half-expecting it to change its mind, but it remained still, its gaze fixed on the horizon as if lost in its thoughts. She reached out and plucked another peach from the tree, the golden fruit warm and smooth in her hand.

She sat down carefully beside the beast, the air thick with tension and uncertainty. The contrast between them was stark—her small, fragile frame beside the towering, monstrous figure of the beast. Yet, as she bit into the peach, the sweetness of the fruit filling her mouth, a strange sense of calm washed over her. The fear that had gripped her heart began to ebb away, replaced by a cautious curiosity.

The beast watched her closely, its black eyes gleaming with interest. “Tell me, human,” it began, its voice softer now, almost gentle. “What is it like, this hunger you speak of?”

The woman paused, considering how best to answer. “Hunger is... a need,” she said slowly, choosing her words with care. “It’s like a void inside you, a hollow feeling that grows stronger the longer you go without food. It’s uncomfortable, sometimes painful, and it drives you to find something to eat, to fill that emptiness.”

The beast nodded slightly, as if trying to understand. “And when you eat, does the pain go away?” it asked, its tone almost childlike in its curiosity.

“Yes,” the woman replied, her voice softening. “When you eat, the hunger fades. The pain goes away, and you feel… whole again.”

The beast was silent for a long moment, its eyes fixed on the horizon. “I have never known hunger,” it said at last, its voice carrying a strange, melancholic note. “But I have known pain, a different kind of pain, one that does not fade.”

The woman looked up at the beast, her fear now mingled with a deep sense of empathy. “What kind of pain?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The beast turned its gaze towards her, its eyes reflecting the depths of its ancient sorrow. “Loneliness and despair .” it said simply. “That has lasted for eons.”

The woman felt a lump form in her throat, her heart aching at the raw emotion in the creature’s voice. In that moment, she realized that the beast was not just a monster, but a being who had suffered, who had been isolated and alone for countless ages.

“Maybe,” the woman began hesitantly, “we can keep each other company for a while.”

The beast looked at her, its dark eyes searching her face as if trying to understand this strange offer. After a long moment, it nodded, a slow, deliberate gesture that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

“Tell me more about your world, human,” the beast said softly. “And perhaps… I will share mine.”

The woman took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts as she settled more comfortably on the grass beside the beast. The tension between them had softened, replaced by a tentative curiosity that bridged the vast chasm of their differences.

“Well,” she began, her voice steadying as she spoke, “my world is… busy. It’s full of people, places, and things. We build cities that stretch toward the sky, with buildings made of glass and steel. There are cars and planes, like the one I crashed here, that carry us from place to place at incredible speeds. And the world is connected—people talk to each other from across the planet with devices that fit in their hands.”

The beast listened intently, its massive head tilted slightly, its expression one of intense focus. “So many things,” it murmured. “And these cities, these devices—do they bring you happiness?”

The woman hesitated, her mind flickering over the complexity of the question. “Sometimes,” she replied, her voice thoughtful. “But not always. The world is fast-paced, and it can be overwhelming. People are constantly moving, working, striving for something more. But in all that noise, it’s easy to feel lost, to feel… alone, even when surrounded by others.”

The beast’s gaze softened, as if it understood that feeling all too well. “Alone,” it echoed. “I have been alone for so long that I have forgotten what it means to have others around me. My island… it was once a place of light and beauty. But I was cast down, and in my sorrow, the island became what you see now—a place of darkness and storms.”

The woman looked around, seeing the island in a new light. The jagged peaks, the howling winds, the tumultuous sea—all were reflections of the beast’s anguish, manifestations of its deep, unending pain. “You were cast down?” she asked gently. “Why? What happened?”

The beast’s eyes darkened, its massive form trembling slightly as if the memories were too painful to bear. “I was once something else, something beautiful and pure,” it began, its voice heavy with the weight of the past. “But I was betrayed, cast out of the heavens for reasons I no longer understand. My fall brought me here, to this island. I was cursed ,a punishment for a sin I don't remember anymore, I changed. I became this… creature, this monster that you see before you. The island changed with me, reflecting the darkness in my heart.”

The woman’s heart ached for the creature, for the immense loneliness that had twisted it into something so far from what it once was. “But you’re not a monster,” she said softly, her words gentle but firm. “You’re hurting, yes, but that doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you… lost. And maybe… maybe we can find a way to help each other.”

The beast looked at her, its eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and hope. “Help each other?” it repeated, the words sounding foreign on its tongue.

“Yes,” the woman said, nodding. “You’ve been alone for so long, trapped in this pain. But now you’re not alone. I’m here, and I want to understand. Maybe together, we can find a way to bring some light back to this island, and to you.”

The beast was silent for a long moment, its gaze locked onto hers as if searching for any trace of deceit. But all it found was sincerity and compassion. Finally, it nodded, a slow, almost hesitant movement.

“I do not know if it is possible to change what has been for so long,” it said, its voice low and uncertain. “But… I would like to try. For the first time in eons, I would like to try.”

The woman smiled, a small but genuine smile that warmed the air around them. “Then we’ll try together,” she said. “You can teach me about this island, about your world, and I’ll tell you more about mine. And maybe, little by little, we can bring some light back into the darkness.”

The beast’s lips curled into something that almost resembled a smile, a tentative, unsure expression that had not graced its face in countless ages. “Very well,” it said, its voice carrying a hint of something that had been lost for far too long—hope.

“Tell me,” the woman asked, leaning in slightly, “what was this island like before? Before the darkness?”

The beast’s eyes grew distant, as if looking back through the mists of time to a world long forgotten. “It was a place of beauty,” it said softly. “Golden sands that shimmered in the sunlight, trees that bore fruit sweeter than any you’ve tasted, and waters that sparkled like the clearest gems. It was a sanctuary, a place of peace and harmony. ”

The woman listened, captivated by the vision of the island as it once was. “It sounds beautiful,” she murmured.

“It was,” the beast agreed, a note of sadness creeping back into its voice. “But that world is gone, buried beneath the darkness of my own making.”

“Maybe not gone,” the woman said gently. “Maybe just hidden. Maybe together, we can uncover it again.”

“Perhaps,” it said softly.

Tears welled up in the beast's eyes, glistening like molten silver against its dark, weathered skin. They cascaded down its face, leaving trails of sorrow etched deep into its features. Unable to bear the sudden flood of emotion, the creature leaped into the sky with a powerful thrust of its leathery wings, soaring upward with a speed that belied its massive size. The wind howled in its wake, and the island trembled as if in response to its anguish.

The woman barely had time to register what was happening before a soul-wrenching scream tore through the heavens, a sound so raw and primal that it seemed to vibrate through the very core of the earth. It was a cry of unimaginable pain, of loss that spanned eons, of a heart shattered beyond repair. The sound crashed over the island like a tidal wave, carrying with it the weight of centuries of suffering.

The force of the beast’s agony struck the woman like a physical blow. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her chest as if to hold her heart together. But it was no use—the pain was overwhelming, like a crushing weight pressing down on her soul. It was as if the beast's torment had become her own, and she could feel it seeping into every corner of her being.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as the memories of her own life surged to the surface, unbidden and relentless. Images flashed before her eyes—moments of loss, of heartbreak, of all the times she had felt utterly alone in the world. She saw the faces of loved ones lost, heard the echoes of words that had cut deep, felt the sting of betrayals that had left scars on her soul. Each memory was a dagger, stabbing into her heart, and the tears that flowed down her cheeks were not just for herself, but for the creature whose pain had awakened her own.

The island seemed to mirror their shared despair. The once storms raged anew, the winds howling through the trees, tearing at the branches with a fury that matched the beast’s cry. The sea churned violently, waves crashing against the jagged cliffs, as if the very world itself were mourning alongside them. The ground beneath her trembled, and the trees bowed under the weight of the sorrow that blanketed the land.

For a moment, the woman felt as if she were drowning in the beast’s grief, as if the darkness would swallow her whole. She could barely see through the tears that blurred her vision, and her body shook with the force of her sobs. It was too much—too much pain, too much loss, too much suffering. She wanted to escape it, to run away, but there was no escape from the depth of this shared torment.

But even in the midst of the overwhelming pain, a small voice inside her whispered that she could not give up. She had come to this island by chance, or perhaps by fate, and now she knew that her purpose was greater than she had imagined. She knew that the light must still exist here, the beauty that had been buried beneath the beast's sorrow. And she knew, with a certainty that went beyond reason, that she had to help bring that light back.

With a strength she didn’t know she had, the woman forced herself to breathe deeply, to steady her trembling hands. She wiped the tears from her face, though the sorrow still weighed heavily on her heart. She knew she could not heal the beast’s pain alone, but she could be there for it, could stand by its side and help shoulder the burden.

Struggling to her feet, the woman looked up at the jagged peak where the creature had fled. Its silhouette was barely visible against the dark sky, a lone figure perched atop the highest point of the island, its wings folded around it like a shroud. The sight filled her with a deep, aching compassion. She knew she had to reach it, to let it know that it wasn’t alone, that its pain was seen, felt, and understood.

With slow, determined steps, the woman began to make her way toward the peak, the wind tearing at her clothes and hair, the ground trembling beneath her feet. The path was steep and treacherous, but she pressed on, driven by the unshakable belief that this moment—this connection—was the key to breaking the cycle of pain .

The woman’s foot slipped on the loose, jagged stone, and suddenly, the ground gave way beneath her. She barely had time to gasp before she was tumbling into the abyss, the sharp rocks slicing at her skin as she fell. The world spun around her, a chaotic blur of dark sky and jagged peaks, and in that terrifying moment, she knew with a chilling certainty that this was the end.

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable impact that would break her body against the unforgiving earth. The air rushed past her, cold and merciless, as she waited for the crushing blow that would steal her last breath. Time seemed to stretch, each second a lifetime of fear and regret.

But the impact never came.

Instead, she felt a sudden jolt as something powerful and strong enveloped her. It wasn’t the cold, hard ground that met her, but a warm, firm embrace . She opened her eyes slowly, disbelief mingling with relief as she looked up to see the creature’s enormous arms cradling her with surprising gentleness.

The beast had caught her just in time, holding her securely against its broad chest. The wind howled around them, but within the creature’s embrace, there was a strange, almost tender calm.

“You almost died,” the beast murmured. It was a simple statement, but the weight of it pressed down on them both. The creature’s tears, thick and unending, still flowed freely, leaving dark trails down its face. The sorrow that had haunted it for eons was still there, raw and suffocating, but now it was mingled with something else—an overwhelming sense of dread at the thought of losing the one person who had reached out to it in its darkest hour.

The woman could feel the beast’s sorrow, heavy and all-encompassing, pressing down on her like a physical force. It was as if the weight of its ancient grief was being transferred to her, crushing her chest and making it difficult to breathe. The depth of its pain was staggering, and she could see it clearly in the way the creature’s hands trembled as they held her, in the way its wings shuddered, barely able to keep them aloft.

“I’m… I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice shaky but soothing, as she reached up to touch the beast’s tear-streaked face. Her fingers brushed against its rough skin, and she could feel the warmth of its tears against her palm. “You saved me.”

The beast’s eyes, dark and sorrowful, met hers. In them, she saw not just the despair of a creature who had lost everything, but fear , fear of losing the only glimmer of light they had found in an eternity of darkness.

“I didn’t want you to fall,” the beast said, its voice choked with emotion. “I didn’t want to be alone again.”

The words were simple, but they carried the weight of centuries of isolation, of a loneliness so profound that it had twisted the once-beautiful guardian into a creature of darkness. The woman’s heart ached for the beast, for the unimaginable pain it had endured, and for the fragile hope that now flickered within it.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet strength. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The beast looked at her, a mixture of hope and disbelief in its eyes. “But… I’ve hurt you. My pain, my sorrow—it’s too much. I’ve brought nothing but darkness.”

The woman shook her head, her hand still resting against the creature’s face. “Pain shared is pain halved,” she said softly. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore. We’ll face it together.”

The beast’s grip on her tightened slightly, as if afraid that she would slip away again, that this fragile connection between them would be severed. But in her eyes, it saw something it hadn’t seen in eons—compassion, understanding, and a fierce determination to stand by its side, no matter the cost.

For a long moment, they simply hovered there, suspended in the air, the storm raging around them. But in that small space between the beast’s wings, there was a growing sense of calm, of a storm finally beginning to break. The darkness that had consumed the island for so long seemed to retreat just a little, as if in response to the bond that was forming between them.

The woman’s heart swelled with a deep, abiding sympathy, not just for the beast, but for the island itself, for the world that had once been filled with light and beauty, now shrouded in endless night. And she knew, with a certainty that resonated through her very soul, that together they could begin to heal the wounds of the past.

“I believe in you,” she whispered, her voice carrying over the howling winds. “We can bring back the light.”

The beast didn’t respond with words. Instead, it slowly, carefully descended to the ground, its wings beating steadily as it brought them both back at the peach tree . As they touched down, the creature gently set the woman on her feet, its hands lingering for just a moment longer before it pulled away.

The tears still streamed down its face, but there was something new in its gaze—a glimmer of hope, fragile. The sorrow was still there, an ancient pain that may never heal, but now it was no longer alone. For the first time in countless ages, the beast felt the faintest hint of relief, of a burden shared, and the possibility that, perhaps, the darkness could be lifted.