Monster Anthology [MxM]

The Light on the Moor

Content Warning: Vore, sexual content, gore, dub/noncon

Deftly braiding his long hair with spelled soul gems, Ciarán watched the morning mists creep over the moors right outside their village. Beasts lurked within those mists, and if you weren't careful, you'd be lost to them.

Or so the old crones of the village often said.

Ciarán tucked the last loose strands of his hair behind his long ears before snagging his robe from the back of his door. After shrugging into the thick fabric, he grabbed his staff, slung his leather satchel over his shoulder, and headed out. His sandals sank into moist earth with every step away from his porch. The butt of his staff thudded in time to his steps. The early morning risers greeted him with silently raised hands, nodding as he passed. At the edge of the village, standing watch atop the towering barricade, his father and one of the younger guards called down to him.

"It's too dangerous to go out right now, Ciarán," his father called, "signs of wisps, sahuagins, drowners... no one's going out there."

Frowning, Ciarán climbed up the stairs to the top of the barricade and turned his eyes to the roiling fog. Father wasn't lying, but—

"It's the perfect time to get faerin mushrooms," Ciarán protested, turning towards him. "What if... what if I take two warriors with me? To keep an eye out while I collect the supplies I need?"

"What do you need the mushrooms for?" Father asked, sighing. He rubbed his forehead, his shoulders slumping.

"Alill's boy broke his collarbone yesterday," Ciarán explained, "and I used the last of my store to make him pain and numbing medicine. I need to get more, or I won't have any for the next time someone breaks a bone."

Father cursed, turning his dark brown eyes back out to the moors. "Get volunteers to go with you. Only volunteers. Don't guilt them into going."

"Yes, Father!" Ciarán spun on his heel and hurried back down the stairs. Who could he convince to go with him? The obvious choice—Alill—had his injured son to look after. He rubbed at his chin as Ciarán hurried back through the village, taking the winding paths between homes.

"Ciarán, what's the rush?" The chipper voice of his elder brother, Milo, cut through his thoughts. Smiling, Ciarán turned towards the larger elf.

"Milo! You wouldn't happen to be busy this morning?" Ciarán asked, batting his eyelashes as he leaned towards Milo.

He slid a foot back, narrowing his eyes. "What... do you need?"

"A look out," Ciarán said, flashing him a wide smile. "And we need one more. Any thoughts?"

Milo groaned, running his hands down his face. "Isn't it too early for this?"

"Nope, it's the perfect time," Ciarán replied, stepping closer to the tall elf. "Who do you trust to watch your back and mine?"

Running a hand through his short brown hair, he groaned again. "I guess... Fionn. He's got a good head on his shoulders. Knows what's what."

"Great! I'll go get him. Meet me by the east gate? Father's there," Ciarán said. Once Milo nodded—though his shoulders were drawn and his dark eyes looked even darker—Ciarán sped off to find Fionn.

The blond archer sat in front of his family home, tending to a bow longer than him. Ciarán closed the distance and called a greeting.

"What do you need, healer?" Fionn asked, keeping his eyes on his work as the cleaning cloth moved down the length of the bow.

"Milo mentioned you might have some time this morning to accompany us out onto the moors," Ciarán started, his fingers wrapping around the strap of his satchel. "I need to collect herbs for the village."