Everly shut her mouth tight, turning her head away, resolutely refusing the thing being pressed toward her lips.
“Ah… ahhh…”
The banshee muttered in confusion, persistent, and pushed the object forward again. Everly couldn’t dodge in time and felt a cold, slimy mass press against her cheek. Its pus-covered tip was wet and sticky, touching her lips and giving off a faintly fishy stench, reminiscent of a dead fish floating on water.
She felt like vomiting.
“#%￥…”
Seeing that Everly still didn’t react, the banshee seemed a little anxious. She was not human and could not mimic the gentle coaxing of a human mother. When the baby resisted feeding, she reached out with her claws, using the black, sharp tips to pry and tug at Everly’s lips. A baby’s skin is incredibly delicate; in the process, Everly’s cheek was accidentally scratched by a claw, and bright red blood seeped out.
The sight of the blood stunned the banshee for a moment. She looked at the blood-stained claw tip, and as if provoked by the sight of her own blood, suddenly lifted her head and let out a piercing, mournful shriek. A flash of brutality appeared in her crimson eyes. A loud smack resounded. Distracted, Everly looked up and saw the banshee’s snake-like tail thrashing in the water as if possessed, smashing against the rocks and walls of the pool. Every strike of the thick tail sent tremors through the ground, sending chunks of stone tumbling.
Everly felt a sense of impending danger.
The clawing at her lips intensified. At first it was just the tips of the claws, but now the banshee was stabbing with the entire claw. And she was smiling through it—a sick, widening grin that seemed to stretch to her ears, revealing the sharp, shark-like teeth below and a throat that seemed endless.
When the claw tip tore her lips, Everly cried out in a muffled groan from the pain.
That tiny, mosquito-like hum, like a sudden clap of thunder, briefly pulled the banshee back to reason. She froze, stopping her clawing. It seemed she was struggling against some invisible presence in her mind, her brow furrowed, her face twisted in agony, swollen features etched with intense pain and inner conflict.
“Ah! Aahhh!”
The sea banshee roared, her head first drooping downward, then snapping back violently, smashing the back of her skull against the rock wall behind her—once, twice, thrice… each strike with terrifying force, sending shards of stone and dark-red bodily fluid flying in every direction. After a few blows, Everly even heard the sickening crack of breaking bones.
Above the neck was a scene of cruel, bloody self-ab*se. But below the neck, cradled in her arms, the scene returned to warmth. The claws that had torn at flesh obediently withdrew, now gently supporting the baby in her arms. As always, she tenderly patted Everly’s back.
Below that, her massive serpentine tail continued to thrash wildly. It smashed rocks along the water’s edge, the tip sweeping along by inertia, scattering the piled-up white bones on the shore. Fragile bones shattered everywhere, leaving a chaotic floor of splintered fragments.
The scene was violently fractured, exuding a chilling, uncanny horror.
“Mama… mama!” Everly was truly terrified by the banshee’s sudden shift in temperament. She strained her throat and, despite the pain, shouted “Mama” as loudly and persistently as she could.
The infant’s innocent cry was like a beam of light, piercing through the mist and descending into the chaos of the banshee’s mind. Slowly, the rampaging creature began to stop. She lowered her head, staring blankly at the baby in her arms, meeting the small, clear, innocent blue eyes—so tiny, warm, soft, and fragrant, with petals of a mouth opening and closing, releasing one tender, affectionate “Mama” after another.
It was calling her “Mama.”
“Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma… child, child, child, child!” This is her child, her child, her child, her child!
After thousands of years, her child had finally returned!
The banshee began to weep again. Her crying made no sound, but her crimson eyes seemed like twin fountains, and torrents of tears, mixed with endless tenderness and love, gushed forth. The icy drops splashed onto Everly’s forehead, bringing a moment of cool relief to the burning-hot infant in her arms.
All the cruelty and violence that had enveloped the sea banshee were washed away by her tears.
A gentle, melodic hum rose once more as the banshee lightly stroked Everly’s back, transforming back into the tender, loving mother she had been before.
Everly had been terrified of the banshee’s loss of control. So, when the sea banshee, filled with maternal affection, lifted the drenched infant and brought her to Everly’s lips to feed her again, Everly did not refuse.
Even though she felt intense revulsion, and wanted countless times to spit out the fishy, bitter milk, Everly kept her eyes tightly shut and forced herself to swallow it all. She did not know what action might anger the banshee, so for her own survival, she obeyed as best she could.
The banshee’s milk, like the banshee herself, was cool, carrying no trace of human warmth. Though its taste was unpleasant, with a strange, viscous texture, as it slid down her throat and into her stomach, it successfully soothed the burning sensation in Everly’s belly.
Only now did Everly realize how long she had been kidnapped—and how starved she had become.
The banshee was massive, and her milk abundant. At first, Everly had intended to take only a few sips, just to appease the banshee. But her body had other plans. Likely driven by intense hunger, and compounded by her current fever, needing large amounts of fluids and energy, once she began feeding, Everly found herself unable to stop sucking.
“Glug… glug…”
She cradled the soft little body in front of her, greedily sucking. If one were close enough to Everly, they could even hear the hurried swallowing sounds as her throat worked.
The banshee tilted her head, leaning quietly against the stone wall, feeling the movements at her chest. The experience of feeding was intoxicating. The sensation of being needed, clung to, and demanded awakened the long-buried maternal instincts within her.
Gradually, the crimson eyes softened, glistening with a watery tenderness. The hand supporting the baby’s back began to pat her rhythmically, gently. Pure motherly love radiated from every pore of the banshee’s body, shaping and guiding her, channeling all that was best in her into a single purpose—through the flowing milk, bit by bit, passing it on to her child.
“Ah… hmm-hmm-hmm…”
The hum, which had once paused, resumed, echoing repeatedly in the enclosed stone chamber.
The soothing melody seeped into Everly’s ears. The infant opened her mouth and let out a delicate yawn, her feeding slowing as her belly grew full.
Her stomach was satisfied.
And perhaps because her belly now held nourishment, the fever and soreness that had tormented Everly eased considerably, no longer making her feel as miserable as before.
She yawned again, mouth opening, and, following instinct, leaned forward, curling her tiny fists against her chest. Soon, her eyes closed, and she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.
…
Everly slept for a long, long time.
When she opened her eyes again, the fever had broken. Her body felt as if soaked in a warm spring—completely cozy. Even without a coat, she felt no chill. She tried swinging her arms and kicking her legs, and her movements were surprisingly strong, no trace remaining of the weakness that had plagued her before.
This state of robust health—practically strong—was not something a simple nap could achieve.
As Everly’s gaze swept across the banshee’s chest, she noticed one side of her breast had shrunk. Her eyes lingered. That was the very side she had nursed from yesterday—though perhaps it hadn’t really been yesterday; without clocks, Everly’s sense of time had long since become confused. Compared with the other side, it had slightly decreased in size.
Everly inferred that the banshee’s milk might contain some special ingredient that strengthened her body. The thought stirred complicated feelings. On one hand, she feared the banshee—a cannibalistic monster that had killed countless children and could go berserk at any moment. On the other hand, when the banshee was simply a mother, she was gentle and tender, evoking memories of her own mother from a previous life. Though Everly had forgotten her mother’s face, the unconditional care and devotion to a child were unmistakably familiar.
“Ah… ah…”
Seeing Everly’s eyes open, the banshee’s face brightened with joy. She called out, pressing the other breast toward the infant’s mouth, eager to feed her again.
Everly did not dare refuse immediately. She clenched her discomfort and took two tentative sips. The taste was still indescribable, yet her body accepted the highly nutritious milk, even craving a little more. But filling her stomach was not her priority—there was something more urgent she had to do. Time was nearly up; if she didn’t act soon…
Summoning all her willpower, she forced herself to pull away from the breast, interrupting her feeding. Restless in the banshee’s arms, Everly wriggled, her tiny hands repeatedly pointing between her legs while imitating the sound of water, letting out a continuous stream of “shhh” noises.
Onomatopoeia proved more useful than she had imagined. Through Everly’s persistent efforts, the banshee began to understand her meaning. She roughly tore open the diaper, already saturated and blurred with mosaic, tossed it aside, then twisted her serpentine tail and lifted the infant to a small pool of water far from the black water pit.
“Shhh… shh-shh…” The banshee even, seemingly without instruction, mimicked Everly, making the gentle noises that parents often use when helping a child urinate.
Everly: “…”
Feeling a mix of embarrassment and shame, she relieved herself in the small pool.
The banshee, though generally uncaring about cleanliness—her hair as dirty as a chicken’s nest—instinctively knew to clean up after Everly. She returned the infant to the usual black-water pit, lifted Everly’s arms, and dipped the lower half of her body into the seawater, shaking her like a tiny, wet, fluffed-up chick.
The late-autumn seawater was icy, making Everly shiver all over.
Despite this rough childcare, after being in the water she remained lively and energetic, her body warm like a little furnace, clearly still reliant on the milk the banshee provided.
Knowing that it was something that strengthened her body, Everly no longer resisted when the banshee fed her again. She obediently latched onto the nipple, sucking greedily until her stomach felt full and heavy.
“Bup-bup…”
Having eaten her fill and completed another “life necessity,” she lay in the banshee’s arms for a while, beginning to think over her current situation.
Everly still felt uncertain about the future. She didn’t know whether her worthless father would try to rescue her—she had assumed their father-daughter bond was thin, yet when the banshee took her away, he had acted surprisingly brave. Even so, even if he hadn’t given up looking for her, finding this hidden stone chamber beneath the lighthouse would be no easy task, not to mention the fact that a fierce, dangerous sea banshee now occupied it.
In short, Everly could not pin her hopes on her father. She needed to save herself.
For now, it seemed the banshee treated her kindly, seeing her as her child. But the creature’s emotions were unstable—for example, yesterday, while feeding her, the banshee had suddenly gone berserk, nearly harming Everly. She realized that if she wanted to escape safely, her first task was to understand the banshee’s temperament, to know its limits, and to figure out under what circumstances it would lose control.
Her gaze shifted to the platform at the center of the stone chamber.
The smooth surface, the carvings on it, and the table in the middle—none of these could have been made by the banshee.
—Someone had built this chamber beneath the lighthouse, for some unknown purpose.
Her instincts told her that the answers to all the mysteries surrounding the sea banshee were likely hidden there.