Monochild

Protect

“Always stand guard. Must not waver from duty. For her, for him, for all.”

Those were the only words keeping her calm and standing. She wouldn’t dare question what exactly she was guarding. All she knew was that it was dangerous.

She swiveled her pale white head to look back at the old pedestal behind her. A black ornate amulet sat on top, its crevices pulsing with an eerie purple glow. The shapes on the trinket formed the symbol of an eye with an X violently etched over it. A small ring at the top allowed a coiled metal wire to be strung through it. Simply looking at the artifact made it clear this was no mere necklace — certainly nothing to dally with. That alone was enough to keep her on guard.

Guarding something with such potential came with many costs. One had to sacrifice sleep, rest, and above all, patience. But the greatest cost of any guard… was that you could not hesitate to tear your foes apart.

The guardian looked down at her thin, bony, clawed hands. They had probably borne more blood than what remained in her body. She wondered if things could have turned out differently. What if the circumstances had been different? Even then, pondering never mattered. After all, she was a vortprowler — a tall, pale creature covered in undulating holes that led into empty voids. Her kind opened portals to move around and stalk prey.

Despite these grotesque features, she found them beautiful. Beauty was about all about perspective. And beauty would have been the perfect word for her young.

It was surprising she managed to care for a daughter while guarding an eerie death‑amulet. So far, her little one showed no interest in the artifact — only in her mother. Sometimes, the guardian feared her daughter might grow up and claim the amulet for herself. Could she tear apart her own young, the one she raised with care?

No. She knew she would raise her right.

The guardian turned her attention to the bottom-left corner of the cave. A small, clumsily made burrow lay open with her young inside, safe and warm. Next to it was a larger burrow meant for the guardian — though she rarely used it, mostly for storing fresh kills and water. Good. One less thing to worry about tonight.

It was then she realized how long she had been staring in one direction. The cave was dusty and dingy. Not a bug or critter in sight. Not even a patch of moss. The only light source was the pulsing glow of the amulet — just enough to illuminate the cave.

A few meters away from the pedestal stood a tall hourglass marked to tell time. Not much of a spectacle. She might as well keep staring forward, thinking of plans for tomorrow.

Then she remembered.

Food.

She could go days without eating, but her daughter could not. She shambled to her burrow and removed a large stone bowl where rations were stored. It was empty.

Great.

She needed to catch something before dawn. She checked the hourglass — seven hours left before her daughter woke hungry. Nothing in the cave had nutritional value. She would have to leave the amulet and her daughter unattended.

Desperate, she searched for anything useful. In her burrow, she found a spool of string recovered from a previously killed intruder. She used every bit of resourcefulness she had. Despite being a large shambling carnivore, she knew how to tie knots. Soon, thin tripwires were scattered across the cave. The idea was simple: the tripwire would trigger falling stones. If they didn’t stop an intruder, the noise would echo loud enough for her to teleport back.

Perfect.

A low growl of satisfaction escaped her throat. She glanced at the hourglass. Setting up the trap had taken three hours. With only four left, she opened a portal and slipped through, swimming through pockets of reality like her life depended on it.

Each time she emerged somewhere new, she scanned for food. Nothing. Or barely anything. Two hours wasted.

Before she could continue, she heard the loud sound of falling rocks. Either a cave‑in… or her trap.

Panicked, she tore open a portal and rushed back, praying it wasn’t the latter.

She arrived to find two figures attempting to take the amulet, stunned by the falling stones. Her daughter whined from her burrow. Panic and rage surged through her.

She shrieked.

The intruders turned, horrified, armed only with pickaxes.

Stunned by the falling rocks. She could hear her daughter whining. In panic and rage, the guardian lets out a loud shriek, instantly taking the two figures aback. They turn around in horror armed only with pickaxes and attempt to attack her screaming. The pickaxes seem to do almost nothing to her hard thick skin. She simply picks the first intruder up and cleanly snaps the head straight off, blood splattering all over the second intruder. Before the second intruder can even run or scream, he too is suddenly lifted off of the ground. The guardian pounds him to the floor and digs her claws straight into his ribcage, prying it open and splitting his torso. The scene was gruesome, yet it was necessary.

Finally, the conflict was resolved.

The two pickaxes clattered onto the floor. The guardian wiped herself clean and glanced at the hourglass. She had used up all her time — her daughter was already pushing herself out of the burrow.

The guardian looked at the two bodies. Perhaps they could still serve a purpose. They looked healthy enough.

With a huff, she prepared them into a fine pulp, discarding what she could not use. She felt no disgust or remorse. She did what was necessary. She was a carnivore, after all.

She poured the pulp into a hollowed stone. Her daughter crawled over and happily lapped it up.

Seeing this was, quite literally, the only joy the guardian had ever known.

She sat down and watched her young feed — blissful, innocent, alive.