20. Mordakus

20

MORDAKUS

T he salty breeze ruffles my hair as we crest the final hill. Before us stretches a vista of golden sand and azure waters, the coastline curving gracefully into the distance. It's breathtaking, pristine... and utterly devoid of human life.

"Mordakus," Eve breathes, her eyes wide. "It's beautiful."

I nod, scanning the landscape. "But empty. No sign of the community we heard about."

We make our way down to the beach, the soft sand shifting under our feet. After so long dreaming of this place, the reality is... underwhelming.

"Should we keep moving?" I ask, glancing at Eve. "Try to find the settlement?"

She's quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. "Let's... let's stay here for a bit. Just to rest."

I agree, and we set up a simple camp near the tree line. As evening falls, I notice a change in Eve. The tension she's carried for so long seems to melt away. She moves with a newfound grace, pausing often to examine plants or listen to the waves.

"You seem different," I observe as we sit by the fire, Vincent purring contentedly between us.

Eve smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes my heart skip. "I feel different," she admits. "It's like... like I can breathe properly for the first time in years."

I watch her, realizing that this place, empty as it is, has awakened something in her. "Tell me," I encourage.

She takes a deep breath. "Mordakus, what if... what if this is it? What if we don't need to find a community? What if we could build our own?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Eve's eyes light up with excitement. "A farm, Mordakus. Right here on the coast. We could create our own version of the golden coast dream."

As she speaks, painting a picture of a self-sustaining homestead, I find myself drawn in by her vision. She describes gardens bursting with life, animals grazing in green fields, a home built with our own hands.

"And children, Mordakus," she says softly, her cheeks flushing. "Our children, growing up safe and free. We could create a legacy, a haven for generations to come."

The thought of Eve swollen with my child, of tiny red-eyed babies with her gentle spirit, fills me with a longing I've never experienced before.

"You really want that?" I ask, my voice rough with emotion. "A life here, with me?"

Eve reaches out, taking my hand. "More than anything," she says firmly. "You, me, Vincent, our future family. This could be our paradise."

I look out at the moonlit beach, then back at Eve's hopeful face. In this moment, I see our future stretching out before us - challenging, but filled with love and purpose.

"Alright," I say, squeezing her hand. "Let's do it. Let's build our golden coast."

Eve's smile is radiant. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek. "Thank you," she whispers.

The next morning, we begin exploring our new home in earnest. The coastline is dotted with small coves and inlets, and it's in one of these that we find the perfect spot for our homestead.

"Look, Mordakus," Eve calls, pointing to a natural indentation in the cliff face. "We could build right into the rock. It would provide shelter and protection."

I nod, assessing the area with a tactical eye. "Good defensible position. And the overhang would help with temperature regulation."

Eve laughs, the sound light and carefree. "Always the strategist. But you're right. It's perfect."

We spend the next few days planning and preparing. I use my strength to clear the area, moving boulders and uprooting stubborn vegetation. Eve begins marking out plots for her garden, her eyes shining with excitement as she talks about the plants she'll grow.

"We'll need to terrace the slope," she explains, gesturing to the gentle incline leading down to the beach. "It'll help with irrigation and prevent erosion."

I'm constantly amazed by her knowledge. "Where did you learn all this?" I ask.

Eve's smile turns wistful. "My dad. He was always dreaming up ways to make our little backyard garden more efficient. I guess I inherited his green thumb."

As we work, we fall into a comfortable rhythm. During the day, we labor under the warm sun, shaping the land to our needs. In the evenings, we sit by the fire, planning and dreaming.

"We could build a greenhouse here," Eve says one night, sketching in the sand with a stick. "For more delicate plants and to extend the growing season."

I nod, adding my own ideas. "A smokehouse over here, for preserving meat and fish. And we'll need a strong fence to keep out predators."

Slowly but surely, our vision begins to take shape. We dig into the cliffside, creating a cozy living space protected from the elements. Eve's garden starts to flourish, the seeds she's carried for so long finally finding a home in the rich coastal soil.

One evening, as we stand back to admire our progress, Eve turns to me with tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask, instantly concerned.

She shakes her head, smiling through her tears. "Nothing's wrong. It's just... I never thought I'd have this again. A home. A future."

I pull her close, marveling at how perfectly she fits against me. "We've earned this," I say softly. "Both of us."

As the weeks pass, our little community grows and thrives. We add a small dock for fishing, a series of rain catchments for fresh water, and even a lookout point atop the cliff.

Eve's garden becomes a riot of color and life. She tends to it with a devotion that borders on reverence, coaxing life from the soil with gentle hands and whispered encouragements.

"Mordakus!" she exclaims one morning, holding up a ripe red fruit. "Our first harvest!"

I bite into the fruit, the burst of flavor on my tongue a testament to Eve's care. "It's perfect," I say, and her beaming smile is brighter than the sun.

As I watch Eve move through her garden, greeting each plant like an old friend, I'm struck by how much she's changed. Gone is the frightened girl I first encountered. In her place stands a strong, confident woman, deeply connected to the land and to me.

One night, as we lay in our bed carved into the cliffside, Eve turns to me with a serious expression.

"Mordakus," she says softly. "I think... I think I'm ready to start trying for a baby."

My heart leaps at her words. "Are you sure?" I ask, hardly daring to hope.

She nods, her eyes shining in the moonlight. "This place, our home... It's ready for new life. And so am I."

As I pull her close, overwhelmed with love and gratitude, I realize that we've done more than just build a home. We've created a sanctuary, a place of peace and hope in a world that's lost so much of both.

The golden coast may not have been what we expected, but it's given us something far more precious - a chance to create our own destiny, to build a life filled with love and purpose.

As Eve drifts off to sleep in my arms, I make a silent vow. I will protect this dream of ours with every fiber of my being. For Eve, for our future children, for the life we never thought we'd have.

Protheka may be a cruel, daunting place. But here, on this quiet stretch of coast, we've created our own small piece of paradise. And that, I realize, is worth more than any rumored utopia could ever be.

Our journey isn't over. There will be challenges ahead, dangers to face. But together, Eve and I are ready for whatever comes. Because we've found something rare and precious - a place to call home, and a love that can weather any storm.