Kinverse: Volume One

PATH OF THE EMERALD MAIDEN

A naive young monster's tale by Moros, aka KinverseWriter

Legal Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise herein mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work of fiction contains disturbing content.

Reader discretion is advised.

Description:

A young woman from a pre-neolithic society is accidentally whisked away to another world entirely during a raid on a research lab run by alien invaders. Stranded with no friends, badly injured, and no idea where home even is, she's forced to live off the land and learn how to survive in this strange and hostile world.

There's only one slight problem, though.

She's not trapped in this world with them. They're trapped in this world with her.

Categories:

Adventure, Coming-of-Age, Isekai, Erotica.

Disclaimers:

This story contains sexual elements and disturbing themes. The contents aren't purely intended to be pornographic, but some scenes objectively are. This is about a giant monster that eats people, so reader discretion is advised. This story contains vorarephilic themes.

This story will have a very slow and intermittent pace to begin with. True stakes don't really show up until halfway through, though the build-up is always there in the background. This is ultimately not a story of grand adventure and defeating one's enemies to rise to the top, it is the tale of a lost and naive young woman growing as a person and learning new things. It is a personal one concerning her, and thus this story will be told in present-tense first-person.

Chapter 31: Home in Stockholm

---

Finally. Home, sweet home.

I ascend the steps from the basement and hear movement elsewhere in the house. Sam must be home, which makes it a very good thing I stashed Emeral in the basement instead of bringing her through the back door.

“Sam! I'm home!" I call out.

She comes sprinting from the kitchen into the hall and tackles me with a bear hug! I'm stunned and surprised, but nonetheless return it, wrapping my arms around her as she sobs into my shoulder.

“We- we didn't know what happened to you, we were so worried, Frank said that- that- you crashed, and mom was really angry after you called Frank, and-" she stammers and babbles.

I let her continue, simply hugging her as she vents. She doesn't seem to mind that I haven't had a shower or change of clothes in days so I hold my little sister tight. It's good to be back; you don't realize just how much you miss human contact after going without it.

“-she ran off to go and get you but she couldn't find you and- and- and she had to check with the police and ask around where all the pay phones are and-"

She just keeps going, and going, stopping only to take a breath every once in a while.

“-she came back without you and Frank got mad, and we were so worried, and-"

“Sam," I interrupt. “I'm fine. I'm home. I love you, sis. I need to go give Frank a call now, then I'll deal with mom, okay?"

She reluctantly lets go, almost afraid that I'll disappear again. Despite being only a few years younger than me she's still pretty reserved and has few offline friends. She'd stayed with one during the fire--someone she'd met online. Still, it's rare for her to be this clingy but I don't mind it.

And yet something is off.

“Did... something happen while I was gone?"

She mouths something to herself, struck dumb and unable to respond. For her discomfort I bring her into a hug again and we embrace tight. A new wave of tears erupts and she remains silent.

I give her one last pat on the back before trying to pull away to go and call Frank, but-

She maintains the hug and looks me in the eyes in a rare show of assertiveness. She's clearly still worried and scared, but it's melting away every moment that I'm back.

“Carey. Why didn't you call me or mom? We were worried something bad had happened to you. Frank tried calling that pay phone but you didn't pick up."

Ah. Crap. I didn't think of that... it's free if it's called.

I nervously smile. “I'm sorry, Sam. I forgot you can do that, and I'd lost my phone, so... yeah. I called Frank because he's worked with the police before as part of our job and I had a feeling he would have gotten them involved."

She sighs and squeezes me again before finally letting go.

“Just... thanks for coming back safe, Carey."

As I turn to head for the kitchen, a rather important thought strikes me.

“Don't go in the basement lounge, Sam. I'll explain later. Okay?"

Her face twists to one of confusion, but she nods.

“Um. Okay? My pop's in there, but I'm not addicted to caffeine any more, so..." she awkwardly drifts off, averting her gaze. I turn and leave.

Heading into the kitchen I grab the home phone and dial up Frank's number. I wouldn't have had to use a pay phone--or even the home phone--if I hadn't lost my own back at the crash site. Hopefully the rains didn't damage it, but seeing as I lost it days ago...

The phone finishes ringing and it connects.

“Hello? Sam? What's up?" Frank asks.

Judging by the background chatter he's probably at the Nest. Damn, hopefully mom doesn't get wind of the call or she'll go for the phone again like last time...

“It's Carey, but don't let mom know yet." I glance around the kitchen, noting how things have been suspiciously reorganized. “She'll probably try and yell my ear off for ghosting her. Can you step out for a bit?"

“Uh, yeah, yeah, one second." The background noise dies down, replaced with the sound of late autumn winds through the street outside.

“You said you couldn't explain earlier. You gonna tell me why your mother's been angry-grilling the past two days?" he questions.

“Well... I had to ghost her. I walked back."

“You what? Carey, she's been worried sick! What's so important that you couldn't get a ride home? And for that matter, I called the pay phone again, why didn't you answer it?!"

Sam edges into the kitchen, arms crossed with a mixed expression worn. She must have been listening in to my side.

“It's a long story, Frank. I'll tell you later, and not over the phone."

My sister purses her lips and gives me a pointed look. Frank won't be the first person to hear the truth, or at least some variation of it. Definitely some variation.

“...I need a bit of time to figure stuff out on that front. I'm assuming you called the police? Can you let them know I'm home?"

Silence takes the line for a few moments before he speaks again, and by the time he does Sam has left.

“...Yeah, yeah... look, some stuff went down while you were gone, this really blew up. We... um, we kind of thought you might be dead or kidnapped, Carey."

What?

I mean, I was kidnapped, but dead?

“What the hell happened, Frank?"

“When I was looking for you... I found a crime scene. Two campers were attacked. The police think it was at least a week or two ago, and the park's reopening has been delayed."

He takes a breath and I hear a thump from downstairs.

“And... one of the officers found your truck. There was... a guy there. They said he was dead."

Fuck.

“You... wouldn't happen to know anything about that... right?" he asks.

I think for a moment trying to come up with of a response. Idly I walk back towards the basement, lost in thought. A dark pit begins to form in my gut as dangerous ideas start to line up.

“I... don't know anything about that, no," I lie. “I started walking and just kind of... got lost in the forest. What have the police said about it?"

I hear a sigh from the other end of the phone.

“Not much, Carey. 'Active investigation,' and all that. The only reason I know as much as I do about the campers is because it happened at a camp site and I'm the one who found their tent, all torn up. And as for the dead guy... it was just barely on park property so they had to inform us."

My horror mounts as the stairs creak beneath me. My mind flashes back to the nightmares I've been plagued with ever since Emeral killed that man.

“So... yeah, Elijah's keeping all of the camps closed while the police investigate. They haven't come up with anything yet as far as we're informed, and they're still looking around for you in case I was lying for some reason about you calling us. Still... those campers didn't just up and leave on their own, and the guy, well..."

I pass by the basement bathroom and Carey's room as Frank continues, and a cold lump forms in my throat. Clacks and thumps continue to sound out from beyond the closed door.

“...We'll have to wait for the media release. I guess. But the cops were spooked."

I turn the handle to the basement lounge. The door opens and I spot the monster I've brought into my own home hunched over a box of christmas decorations. Having heard the stairs she turns to glare at me with murder in her eyes-

“Hello Carey. What this?" she asks innocently, holding up a Christmas ornament.

I quickly shut the door again and press the lock button from before the house was converted into a two-suite. Heart pounding, I hurry back up the stairs. There's no way the lock would stop her anyway.

“Carey? You there? Was that Sam?" Frank asks.

No. No, and I'm worried we aren't safe.

“Uh... I'm here. Just... thinking! Sounds bad."

“So what happened, anyway? You said you crashed."

Indeed thinking quickly, I decide to lie again. I'll have to come up with a cover story for why there's a giant alien in my basement that may or may not have killed three people.

“There was... an animal in the road. Some brown thing, I don't know. I was being chased by, uh, a cougar, before that. And I forgot my radio. Both times."

It's close enough to the truth.

“Damn, and here you're saying I need to be more careful out there. It's good to have you back, Carey... we were worried."

So was I.

Emeral... couldn't have hurt those two other people, right? That man with the gun, that was self defense. He was trying to kill her. She couldn't have hurt those campers, it had to be someone else; she didn't hurt me.

I steady my breathing and calm myself. It's okay. It can't have been her. It must have been an animal, or maybe there really is a serial killer or something in the park. She's been nothing but gentle with me.

“Yeah, it's... good to be back. Look, I've gotta go. I need to call Elijah, my mom, and the police, and... I dunno, get settled. I'll see you later."

It cannot have been her.

“Alright, good luck dealing with Goose, dude. There's a reason everyone calls her that. Whatever stopped you from getting that ride back, it better have been damn important."

I gulp. Single motherhood isn't easy, and while she was never abusive, she was absolutely a disciplinarian while me and Sam grew up. She needed to be to keep us in line. I was always a rowdy kid.

---

The walk centered my thoughts, but it's time to get yelled at. Idly dreading a mother's disappointment, I rub the head of the goose carving by the front door. It looks about as angry as she probably will be, but nonetheless people joke about it being a luck charm.

I'll need it.

The Grillhouse is mostly packed, which makes sense since it's the early afternoon. The moment she sees me Mom's eyes light up and she swiftly rounds the bar! In a flash she's holding me tighter than an alien's bear-hug!

“Honey! Oh thank God you're safe!" she exclaims, still hugging me really damn tight. She's always kept fit even in her older age--and it's where I got my own love of exercise from--but this just feels absurd!

“Mom. I can't breathe," I strangle out.

She relaxes her grip, steps back, and adopts a stern face.

“Carey Fairbanks. You had us all worried sick. I couldn't find you anywhere in Campbell River, where have you been?"

“I'm sorry Mom, but... something came up. I can't tell you, it's- complicated. Okay?" I sheepishly answer, having spoken the words you never speak.

At first she looks frustrated but quickly and unexpectedly, her look softens. Instead of yelling, she simply holds me tight once more. She's taking this significantly better than I thought she would.

“Oh, Carey... I don't know what you're up to this time, but just promise me that whatever it is, you'll be careful, okay?"

“Awww. Damn, Goose, you're goin' soft, old gal," one of her patrons at the bar chimes in, raising a glass mug of day-drink.

She immediately rounds on him and throws her washcloth at him, which he ducks.

“Dangit Jim, we're having a moment here!" she yells before turning back to me.

She once again adopts her stern expression but it's clearly just a front. She's normally far more strict... which is potentially concerning.

“Carey. Don't scare your mother like that, especially not poor little Sam. It's the most active I've seen her in years. She was practically clinging to Frank."

Oh really now?

“Do tell. Is she finally coming out of her shell?" I ask.

“Eh, a bit. They got talking, and... I think that this whole incident was surprisingly healthy for her." For a moment she almost looks like she wants to say more, but does not elaborate.

Well then. It sounds like some good has come of this. Frank definitely took my request to heart.

“That's great to hear. I'm gonna go home and take a nap, I just stopped by to talk and let you know that I'm okay."

“Thoughtful of you. I'd have banned you from the Nest for a month if you didn't. How about next time you go missing, you let me help next time, you hear kid?"

I smile in response. She means the threat.

“Sure, mom. Sure."

---

Light eclipsing around a giant orb.

Red liquid spraying out from arterial punctures.

Losing control... losing control... a tower looms...

“CAREY! CAREY!"

Teeth. Teeth. Endless teeth.

Four glowing green eyes turning red.

Jaws descending to tear off my face-

“AHHH!"

I bolt upright in my bed, panting hard, a cold sweat coating me and my pajamas.

The same endless fucking nightmares.

As I get my bearings my heartbeat returns to normal. I've had these damned dreams almost every night since... the incident.

I was hoping they'd go away once I got home but they definitely haven't. At least not yet. I look over at my bedside clock.

6:48 PM; forget a nap, that's got to be over half a night's sleep.

I can hear rapid steps in the hall and my door is flung open as Sam rushes in.

“Carey, are you okay? I heard a scream!"

She doesn't need to know. Not the full truth.

“Yeah, sorry. I'm fine. I had a... bad dream," I awkwardly respond. I'm supposed to be the older sister, not the one who... faints and has bad dreams.

“You've been sleeping all day. I got tired of waiting and cooked dinner, yours is in the microwave. I'll be in my room, okay?"

“Thanks, Sam. And, uh... you haven't gone in the lounge, right?"

She frowns. “No, I haven't, Carey. Despite hearing weird noises in there. Did you find a stray dog in Campbell River or something? Trying to keep it a secret?"

A flutter goes through me.

Fuck. I forgot about Emeral... thankfully it sounds like she hasn't done anything dumb. Good thing I locked the door then.

“Uhh... something like that. Don't say anything to mom. It's a really long story, and... I'll explain later. Deal?"

She cocks her head, one eyebrow raised.

“Deal," she says as she leaves, pulling the door closed behind her.

I lay back in bed for a while before getting up and heading downstairs. True to her word I find my own meal: a steak with rice sitting on a plate in the microwave ready to be reheated.

I turn it on and take a seat at the dining room table. As I wait for it to warm up I ponder what I'm going to do with Emeral.

I need to feed her if I don't want her wandering off. I've got some steaks in the fridge freezer downstairs--I could cook those up. I'll just get a pan and use the basement stove... I'll have to clear a few boxes off the counter and they won't be fancy, but... 'food is food,' as she said. She doesn't seem very picky.

Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeep! Beeeep!

The microwave shuts off and I retrieve my food.

After nothing but rodents and berries for almost a week the plate of steak and rice could have been burnt and I'd have happily eaten it--but that's no issue for Sam. Mom thinks that she could do well in a restaurant down south with a bit of formal training, but... well, she's just too... Sam for something like that. I did my best for her growing up--nobody picks on the strong girl's little sister if I have anything to say about it--but she's clearly only recently begun to come out of her shell.

I love her, she's the best sister I could ask for, but some days I just wish she was more willing to show others who she can be instead of cooping herself up in her room when she isn't at work.

When I'm done I set the plate and cutlery on the counter with the rest of the dishes to be washed later. I'll probably do that after checking on Emeral. With my own dinner out of the way, I grab a spare pan from the drawer under the oven, a bottle of olive oil, and some tongs. These'll be absolutely dirt-cheap basic steaks but food is food. The poor girl had been happily making do with raw meat. As an afterthought I once again grab my dinner plate, with the pan under my arm and the tongs and oil on the plate itself.

I creep into the basement hoping that Sam isn't paying too much attention and slowly turn the knob to its lounge. The lock clicks as I turn it all the way--a second lock since the exterior hatch 'only' has a padlock. More than enough in my opinion, but I guess whoever owned the home way back when was probably paranoid of people sneaking in through the basement or something. Which I did do, in a way.

An odd smell has since built up in the room while I was out, one that I've recognized Emeral to sort of... emit. I don't know what the deal is with it--like if it's for the same reason that ferrets smell bad, though it isn't as unpleasant as that--but whenever she hangs out for a while in an enclosed space it just kind of gets like this. It's super weird and kind of hard to describe but my best estimation is vinegar with a hint of wood varnish.

The individual in question is currently splayed out on her side across the couch, occupying and overflowing from it as she lightly snores.

It's... actually really damn cute.

As quiet as I can, I set the boxes on the counter between the stovetop and sink onto the ground and clear a spot at the table. The pan goes on the stove and the olive oil sits near it on the counter, having been set aside while I worked on the boxes. The plate of course goes to the table. After that I crack open both windows leading outside to help air the place out from the inevitable smell of cooking meat before finally getting to work.

First I pour just a bit of oil onto the pan and spread it around with gravity and the back of one of the tongs. It's not the best method but it works... kind of. Then, while the gas stove starts to heat the pan and the oil sizzles I head for the fridge freezer and pull out three steaks in butcher's paper. Emeral shifts in response to the sizzling sound and my activity but otherwise remains sound asleep.

With the pan and oil heated I tong the steaks straight to the pan. It's not going to make a difference if I were to cut the gristle off or not; these are going to be really shitty steaks after all, and Emeral's... probably just going to down them as fast as she did the burgers. I've got the heat low for now since these steaks are coming right out of the freezer, having been given no time to thaw. It should be fine if they're a bit raw on the inside--I've seen Emeral eat raw meat all the time without issues. She'd probably crack a tooth if she tried to eat outright frozen meat though.

Eventually the smell of cooking meat does earn a response. Emeral snorts awake behind me from her impromptu bed and cranes her neck over to catch a look at whatever's going on, her nose snuffling all the while. When she spots me I turn and wave before returning to tending to the steaks, momentarily forgetting my earlier uncomfortable thoughts about her and her potential actions.

Snffsnffsnffsnffsnffsnffsnff!

I hear a thump from behind me and a crash as the old coffee table is shoved out of the way, Emeral having rolled from the couch. Claws and carapace clack on cold concrete as she plods over leaving the rug behind. As she sits beside me with her head and neck stooped low she stares right at me with one of those weird eyes on the sides of her head, her front-facing ones locked on the meat. To what I think is her confusion I flip each steak to allow their other sides to cook.

We sit and stand in silence as it slowly browns and, in places, blackens. This is the sort of steak I'd have settled for eating earlier. I'll have to make it up to her later with a good one, like I already promised myself after the... burger incident.

Finally, I grab the plate and tong the steaks onto it before presenting it to Emeral on the table. She takes one look between the plate and me before spearing one with a claw and tugging it off into her mouth with her lips. She chews slowly before eventually silently going for another as that odd deep-throated purring noise begins; one I haven't heard for a while. This steak and the next she slowly chews and swallows before 'smiling' and bringing her head closer to my face.

“Thank you, Carey," she says before giving me a wet lick along my cheek and turning back to flop atop the couch once more. I catch a whiff of vinegar and cooked meat from her breath.

I can't help but smile. Smarter than a dog, better manners than a dog, and yet... she's somehow kind of just like a dog.

“You're welcome, Emeral."

Everything is going to be okay.

---

A/N:

Let's go, stockholm syndrome time. It totally couldn't have been her, Carey. It was not the giant murder-alien that abducted you and brutally killed what looked like a nude murderhobo in front of you, giving you recurring nightmares. You aren't going to go check on Sam after she apparently sleeps in only to find Emeral on her bed, fat and happy. That is absolutely not going to happen.

Emeral is clearly too sweet to do something horrible like abduct and murder two people.

The specifics of the steak-cooking scene are borderline padding but I ultimately decided to include it because it serves as a bit of a parallel to Emeral's own cooking, which will be relevant in a future chapter.