It is far too early to rejoice.

More monsters are coming for me. Scrambling to my feet, I push through the door and head towards the first gallery I see—'Antique Automobiles'. Half the lights are out, exposed wires hang from the ceiling and wreckage scatter across the floor. A row of old automobiles sit—ranging from a La Marquise to a 1900s Mini Cooper to an early 2000s gas-powered Ford Mustang.

Above me, gas leaks from broken pipes. That's when a crazy idea pops into my head—one that might cost my life. But it is this or getting killed by those monsters. If I've to pick an option, I would rather choose the first one.

An inhuman growl hisses from behind me and I risk a glance back, only to terrify myself with the scene that's coming straight out of a nightmare. An army of creatures—water hounds, selkies and serpents—with snapping jaws and red glowing eyes are chasing after me. For my flesh and blood.

Taking a sharp inhale, I grip the flare gun in my hand tightly. I run past the vehicles before turning around to shoot at the ceiling where the pipes are, exhausting all the remaining flares in the gun. It's all in on this bet, I suppose, or I'll be dead. I try not to think of all the valuable artifacts that are probably worth millions which I'm about to burn away, especially all the deep history that lies within them.

But if there's no future ahead of us, history would die along with it as well.

Just like how I want, an explosion goes off in the room, causing a percussion that shatters nearby windows and glass cases. Even the vintage cars catch on fire immediately. Black, harsh smoke billows out and rampages the air in the building.

The fire is so close to me I can feel it scorching the back of my clothes; the heat searing my skin. Adrenaline pumps into my veins as I cover my nose with the back of my hand and run out to the hallway that leads to a white staircase heading down to the main lobby on the first floor.

Halfway down the steps, a burning creature rams into my back and knocks me off balance. I tumble down the stairs, slamming my body into the sharp edges until I eventually hit the landing. Pain aches everywhere in my body and I can't find the strength to move.

The last thing I know, my vision blacks out.

***

My eyelids fly open, feeling icy droplets running down my cheeks.

It must have been a minute later when I woke up, because now I find myself back in the rain again. But this time, I'm not the one doing the running. Someone has me carried in their arms and we're tearing through the storm quickly. Leaving behind the burning museum as the flames swallow the entire second floor and spread to the rest of the building.

Cold infiltrates my skin and into my bones. There's a painful throb in my head, drumming away like a mad guitarist. I let out a groan and feel the world spinning around me. My chin tips up slightly to see the person's face, eyes squinting, but my mind can barely register who it is. When my vision eventually clears and we pass a streetlight, surprise jolts through me.

It's someone whom I've least expected to see, much less save my life again.

The merman.

Fear clutches at my skin and my body quivers. I catch his bright blue eyes, and he does the same. For a couple of seconds, something passes between us. Like a zap of electricity. We are assessing each other, checking out the similarities and differences in our facial features, until he looks away first. But his muscular hands tighten around me.

Through the thick fog of rain, a driveway appears before us, leading us straight to someone's house, which is now half in ruins. The garden is a mess of broken branches, pulled roots and broken pots. The front door is hanging off its hinges, so our merman here kicks it down easily and enters.

Inside, it's slightly warmer than outside. I haven't realized how badly I'm trembling until he sets me down on the kitchen floor. He watches as I crawl to a corner right by the pinewood cabinets and hug my knees to my chest tightly. Trying to protect myself in every way possible against this mysterious creature who hasn't come for my throat just yet. I cast my wide, frightened eyes around the house, waiting for monsters to spring at us out of nowhere, but it doesn't happen.

If the merman has brought us here, I take it that this is a safe house. Sniffing, I suck in a shaky breath and glance up at him. "W-what do you want?"

He answers my question with a cool, odd expression. Which makes me believe he doesn't understand a single word that's coming out of my mouth.

"I guess you're not killing me since you saved me back there twice," I mumble. "Thanks."

Still half-kneeling before me, the merman tilts his head in curiosity. Staring at me. What shocks me in the next moment is that he can speak the same language as us. His voice comes out deep and enthralling.

"Halfling?"

I freeze.

He can talk, and what's worse? He knows what I am.

At this point in time, Mom's warnings are ringing faintly in my head. I swallow hard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he raises a hand, bringing it right to my bleeding shoulder and touches the wound gently. My blood stains his fingers, but he doesn't seem disgusted. He simply studies it, rubs at it between his thumb and forefinger, and sniffs once.

"Halfling," he confirms, pulling away from me. "That's who you are."

"I'm not."

"But you've not once screamed at the sight of me, half-human."

I don't answer. He has caught me, I'll admit that, and I've underestimated him. He's a highly intelligent creature as compared to the ones out there.

His next question catches me off guard. "What is your name?"

I gnaw onto my bottom lip. Hesitant. But I end up giving him my name. "Cordelia Walters. Delia for short," I answer before adding on. "You?"

He holds my gaze steady and I cower a little, feeling my mouth run dry. There's just something that exudes in that gaze of his—strong and commanding. Power. He's someone that I shouldn't offend, because he can easily tear my limbs apart like how I saw him do the previous time to the creatures out there. His muscles are magnificent and belong to that of a fighter.

And yet, something else about him draws me in. Those blazing, aquamarine eyes of his remind me of the tranquil seas—the deep, freshwaters that used to be free from pollution. I'm pretty certain they can sweep me out along with the waves and drown me without my knowing.

Suddenly, his voice snaps me out of my reverie.

"My name," the merman says, "is Zarius."

😂🤯😅 💕