⠀⠀ ⠀⠀◞🪽◟‿⠀⠀ 𝐁eneath 𝐓he 𝐒urface ⠀⠀ 𝐓he 𝐃ark 𝐂rystal (pt3)

Days ed, and the soft pull toward the Skeksis never faded. Sarithia felt it in her chest whenever she closed her eyes or found herself alone; the idea of their next meeting lingered like an unfinished thought. There was something in the air when she was near him—something she couldn’t quite explain. But one thing was certain: she wasn’t ready to speak of it to anyone, not even to Talon. She couldn’t risk it.

However, Talon was becoming harder to avoid. The more Sarithia pulled away from him, the more insistent he became. His smile had grown less carefree, his eyes more searching when they met hers. She knew he was trying to understand and reach her, but she couldn’t give him the answers he wanted. Not yet.

“Sarithia, where have you been?” Talon’s voice echoed in the caverns one afternoon as he caught up to her, his steps quick. He was always quick, always close. “I haven’t seen you in days. You’re making me worry.”

Sarithia sighed, her eyes darting to the ground, reluctant to meet his gaze. “I’m fine, Talon. I’ve just been… thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?” His voice softened, the playful edge to it gone, replaced with something heavier, more genuine. “You’re always so distant lately. I don’t know what’s going on, but I want to help. I want to be here for you, Sarithia.”

The way he said her name sent an unexpected wave of guilt over her. Talon had always been there, through everything. He had been her constant companion, her safe space in the caverns, and yet now, she found herself avoiding him.

“I don’t need help, Talon,” she replied quietly, keeping her eyes focused on the path ahead. The weight of his concern pressed down on her, and she felt like she was drowning in it. “I just… need some space.”

Talon frowned. For a moment, she saw the pain flicker across his face, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. “Alright. But I’ll always be here when you’re ready to talk, Sarithia.” He reached out as though to touch her arm, but she instinctively took a step back, her heart racing.

Talon didn’t press her further, though his eyes lingered on her longer than usual. Sarithia turned quickly, feeling a sharp pang of guilt twist in her stomach. But she couldn’t linger. There was something else she needed to do.

That night, under the veil of darkness, Sarithia found herself once again in the forgotten ruins of the caverns. The moonlight bathed the stone pillars in a silver glow, casting elongated shadows that whispered of ancient secrets. She didn’t look back; she simply moved forward, her steps quiet as she approached the place where she had first met the Skeksis.

He was waiting for her.

The Skeksis stood in the same spot as before, his tall form silhouetted against the faint glow of the bioluminescent moss. An unspoken air hung between them—something still unformed and hesitant. The tension wasn’t uncomfortable; it was a thread pulled tight, waiting for the moment to unravel.

“You returned,” the Skeksis said, his voice calm, as though he had expected her. There was no surprise, no challenge, only quiet acknowledgment.

Sarithia nodded, her heart beating faster than she cared to it. “I did. I wanted to speak with you again.”

The Skeksis turned slightly to face her, his dark, deep-set eyes studying her, searching her face for something he did not yet see. “You have questions, I think. You want to know of my land. And I… I want to learn of yours.”

“I do,” she replied softly, “but it’s not just that. I feel like we… understand each other. I don’t know why. But I want to know more about you. About your world.”

The Skeksis paused, his gaze flickering away for a moment before answering in a voice that was quieter, almost thoughtful. “My name is Skek’Tak.”

Sarithia felt a strange weight settle in her chest at the sound of it. The Skeksis had a name, just like her, just like anyone. The word wasn’t a threat; it was simply a name—a simple truth that somehow made him feel more real, more… like thra.

“Skek’Tak,” she repeated softly, trying the name out for herself. It tasted strange on her tongue but also fitting. It felt right.

The Skeksis gave a small nod, as if appreciating her effort. “You should have a name, too. One that fits you.”

Sarithia blinked, taken aback by the thought. “I… I’ve always just been Sarithia.”

He tilted his head slightly, considering her. “You should choose a name that reflects your strength. Your purpose. Your journey.”

Her brow furrowed as she thought about his words. A name that reflected her journey. A name that carried meaning beyond the one her clan had given her. She had always been Sarithia—quiet, reserved, a dreamer in a world that didn’t quite understand her. But perhaps there was something more to who she was becoming.

After a long moment, she spoke the name she had been holding in her heart for days: “Tira.”

“Tira,” the Skeksis repeated, his voice deep and almost reverent. “It suits you.”

Sarithia nodded, the name feeling like a bridge, something that connected her to this new understanding, this new part of her that she had yet to fully uncover. “Tira,” she said again, this time with more certainty.

As the meeting drew to a close, they stood in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Sarithia had learned more about the Skeksis—Skek’Tak—and his home, but something else lingered between them. They were still strangers in many ways, but now they were strangers with names, with a beginning to their connection.

Sarithia glanced at the ground, her heart heavy. “I should go,” she said quietly, not sure why the words felt so final.

“Return again when you wish,” Skek’Tak replied, his voice as steady as ever. “I will always be here.”

The finality in his words sent a twinge through her heart, but Sarithia turned without a word and began the long walk back to the Grottan caverns. As she walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. There was so much left unsaid, so many layers to this strange, quiet friendship that she had started with a Skeksis. She wasn’t sure where it would lead, but she felt a pull to return.

By the time Sarithia reached the caverns, the first light of dawn began to stretch across the sky. As she moved through the tunnels, she was met with Talon’s gaze, waiting at the entrance to the main hall. He stood with arms crossed, his face more serious than she had ever seen it.

“Sarithia, we need to talk.”

She stopped, her heart racing, feeling the weight of his words hanging in the air. “What is it, Talon?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his voice softer than usual but tinged with something unspoken. “I… I don’t want to lose you. Not like this. You’ve been distant for days now.”

Sarithia hesitated, torn between the truth she couldn’t share and the bond she was so desperately trying to preserve. “Talon, I’m not… I’m not pushing you away. I just—”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense, searching her face. “Please, Sarithia. Let me in. You don’t have to face whatever it is alone.”

Her heart fluttered with a mixture of emotions—guilt and something else she didn’t know how to name.

“I… I can’t talk about it, Talon,” she whispered, her voice strained. “Not yet.”

The silence between them felt heavy, but Sarithia couldn’t bring herself to say more. Not now.

To Be Continued. . .