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Cynthia, barely eight, snuggled under her quilt, her pegasus-shaped pillow clutched tightly. Her bright eyes sparkled with anticipation as she looked up at Cherche, who sat at the edge of her bed.
"Maman, Maman, tell me a scary story tonight!" Cynthia pleaded, practically bursting with excitement. "A really spooky one, with monsters and ghosts!"
Sumia, tidying up a pile of storybooks across the room, paused and glanced over with a nervous smile. "Oh, Cynthia, maybe something gentle instead? Like the one about the kind pegasus who--"
"Nooo, Mama!" Cynthia pouted, crossing her arms. "I want a scary one! I’m brave, just like you and Maman!"
Cherche chuckled, her voice warm but with a mischievous edge. "Very well, little hero. A scary story it is." She leaned closer, her tone dropping to a low, eerie whisper. "This is the tale of the Wyrm’s Hollow, a forgotten place in the mountains of Valm, where the wind howls like a dying beast and the shadows move on their own…"
Cynthia’s eyes widened, and she pulled the quilt up to her chin, already enthralled. Sumia, however, hovered nervously by the door, clutching a book to her chest.
"Long ago," Cherche began, her voice dropping an octave, "There was a village nestled in a cursed valley. The people there were happy, until one night, a great wyrm--a dragon so ancient its scales were black as the sky above--descended from the peaks. It didn’t breathe fire, oh no. This wyrm exhaled mist, a fog so thick it swallowed light itself. And within that mist, it whispered."
Cynthia shivered, her voice barely a squeak. "W-what did it whisper?"
Cherche’s eyes gleamed in the firelight. "It whispered names. The names of every villager, one by one. And those whose names it called would vanish, never to be seen again. But the worst part? The wyrm didn’t just take them. It changed them. They became shadows. Twisted, empty versions of themselves, forever trapped in the Hollow, serving the wyrm’s hunger."
Cynthia gasped, clutching her pillow tighter. "Did anyone stop it?"
"Oh, they tried," Cherche continued, her voice dropping lower. "Knights, mages, even wyvern riders like me. But the mist was alive. It crawled into their minds, made them see their worst fears. One rider, brave as you, Cynthia, flew straight into the Hollow. Her wyvern screamed, and when the mist cleared, her saddle was empty… but her shadow still flew across the valley, searching for her forever."
Cynthia’s mouth hung open. "That’s so creepy!" she whispered, but her grin betrayed her delight.
Sumia, however, was pale as a ghost herself. "Cherche!" she hissed, stepping forward. "That’s far too scary for a bedtime story!"
Cherche turned, feigning innocence. "Oh, Sumia, it’s just a tale. Our little hero asked for it, didn’t she?"
"Yeah, Mama!" Cynthia piped up, bouncing in bed. "It was the best story ever! I wanna hear more about the wyrm! Is it still taking villagers? Can we fight it?"
Sumia’s jaw dropped. "Fight it? Cynthia, you’re supposed to be going to sleep! Love, how could you tell her something so horrifying?"
Cherche smirked, patting Cynthia’s head. "She’s got the heart of a warrior, love. A little fright fuels her dreams of heroism, don’t you think?"
Cynthia nodded vigorously. "I’m gonna be a pegasus knight like you, Mama, and a wyvern rider like Maman, and I’ll chase that wyrm and make it run away!"
Sumia sighed, rubbing her temples. She walked over, kissing Cynthia’s forehead. "Fine, but no more scary stories tonight, okay? Let’s dream of… happy pegasi instead."
"Okay, Mama," Cynthia agreed, though her eyes still sparkled. As Sumia dimmed the lantern and the room became dark, Cynthia whispered to Cherche, "Tomorrow, tell me another scary one, okay?"
Cherche smiled. "Only if you promise to be just as brave, my little hero."
As the two mothers left the room, Sumia grabbed Cherche’s arm, whispering, "I’m sleeping on the couch if she has nightmares!"
Cherche laughed softly. "I’m sure she’ll be just fine," she murmured, glancing back at their fearless daughter, already dreaming of battling shadows in the Wyrm’s Hollow.