Page 16

Frustration boils in my chest.This place is a tomb.No vantage point looks like an easy way to slip out unnoticed—assuming I could outrun or outfly a gargoyle, which is laughable. My ankle throbs more with each step. My forced independence costs me an extra wave of pain. Gasping, I slump against a chunk of fallen masonry, pressing a finger to my forehead. The collar around my neck weighs on me, physically and emotionally.Traded one prison for another.

Anger pulses through me, but it’s laced with despair.Why is my life just an endless chain?If it’s not dark elves, it’s gargoyles. If not whips, then claws. My eyes flicks on a particularly sharp fragment of stone. A savage thought occurs:Could I pry this collar off with a shard?But the metal is thick, locked behind my head. I’d likely slice my own throat trying.

I close my eyes, gripping the rubble.Focus. Breathe.A swirl of images flickers through my mind: the dark elf fortress, the humiliating chains, the lash of whips. And then Korrin, sweeping down from the sky like an avenging storm, eyes molten with rage as he slew my tormentors. Despite myself, I can’t deny a flicker of gratitude that he saved me from that guard. But what does that matter if I’m still imprisoned?Yet he’s not the same as they were…

A footstep behind me sends my heart into my throat. I whirl awkwardly, wincing as my bad ankle nearly gives out. Korrin stands there, arms braced with a small pile of firewood. He frowns. “You’re supposed to be resting by the fire pit,” he says.

I bristle. “I can move where I want.”

He growls under his breath, stalking closer. I brace myself, half expecting him to lash out. Instead, he just sets the wood down, wings twitching in frustration. “You’re stubborn. Don’t make your injuries worse.”

“Maybe I like ignoring your commands,” I snap, hobbling back toward the main area of the tower. He hovers at my side, as if torn between letting me limp and sweeping me into his arms. I clench my jaw, ignoring the temptation to lean on him for support.I refuse to seem weak.

When I reach the center, I sink onto that same chunk of stone, leaning back against a crumbling wall. My breath is ragged from pain, but I force myself to keep my chin lifted. Korrin piles the fresh wood next to the burnt embers.

Without a word, he gathers the leftover ash, removing charred bits and clearing space for a new fire. Then he arranges the wood, pulling a flint from a pouch at his waist. A few sparks later, the tinder glows, crackling to life. Warmth begins to radiate, and my body welcomes it, though I refuse to thank him again.

“I’m going to the stream,” he says at last, settling back on his heels. “We need fresh water. I’ll take your ankle for a soak so it doesn’t swell more.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You can’t be serious.”

He meets my gaze, unwavering. “It’ll help you heal faster. You said you wanted freedom? That requires being able to walk, doesn’t it?”

His logic stings, mostly because he’s right. But I’m not about to let him carry me around like some helpless damsel. “I canget there myself,” I mutter, trying to stand. He’s faster than me, gently catching my forearm before I can topple over.

“Hardheaded,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Fine. Hobble to the stream, if you insist. But I’m not leaving you alone. If you fall, I’ll carry you.”

His words are oddly gentle for someone so deadly. Something inside me softens, but I push that feeling away.He’s still my captor.“Lead the way, gargoyle.”

“Name,” he corrects quietly. “Korrin.”

I snort, refusing to use it. A flicker of exasperation crosses his features, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he steps to my side, letting me lean a hand on his arm for balance. I struggle against the urge, but the pain in my ankle is enough to override my pride. We move slowly, leaving the ruin through a broken arch, following a narrow path that winds between toppled columns. The sky overhead is pale with morning light, clouds drifting in thick clusters.

Trees loom around us, their branches reaching like skeletal arms. The forest floor is damp with dew. Korrin glances around warily, as though expecting an ambush.Are there other gargoyles nearby? Dark elves?The thought makes me tense.

After a few minutes of hobbling, we reach a small clearing where a shallow stream trickles over smooth stones. The water is clearer than I expect, tinted gold by the early sun. Korrin helps me to a rock at the stream’s edge, the movement surprisingly careful for someone so large and clawed. My ankle throbs painfully, but I chose to bear the pain without complain. Then he eases down too, folding his wings behind him. It’s surreal, sitting beside a gargoyle like we’re mere acquaintances taking a morning stroll.

“Put your foot in,” he instructs, gesturing at the gently swirling water.

I’m reluctant, but the memory of the cooling poultice earlier urges me forward. I slide my foot out of the bandage enough to expose my swollen skin, then gingerly dip it into the stream. A hiss of relief escapes my lips as the cold water numbs the ache.

“You see?” he says softly, not looking at me. “Better.”

I stare at his profile. The ridges of his horns catch the light, and for a moment, I see tension in his jaw. The reflection of the water flickers over his stone-like skin, shimmering across those faint gold veins. He’s not looking at me, but I sense the coiled energy in his body—like he’s on alert.

Silence stretches. My anger simmers, but it’s tangled with something else.Curiosity.“Why are you doing all this?” I blurt finally. “You don’t owe me anything, and your Alpha will probably slaughter you if he finds out you’re keeping me alive.”

His eyes flick my way, burning with quiet frustration. “Because I refuse to be a mindless weapon anymore. You deserve… a chance.” The words are clipped, like he’s forcing them out. “It’s not your fault the purna lineage flows in your veins, if it even does.” He exhales heavily. “I can’t kill you for what youmightbe.”

Those final words ring with conviction, stirring a strange mix of gratitude and despair in me. “But you admit you’d kill me if I— if that power awakened,” I say, testing him.

He grimaces. “I don’t know.” The admission seems to pain him. “Killing is all I was trained for. But now, everything’s… different.”

A small stone twists in my chest. His sincerity unsettles me. I shift my foot in the stream, water swirling around my bruised flesh. “You’re still holding me prisoner,” I remind him softly. “I’m not free.”

He inhales, the corners of his mouth tightening. “I can’t let you walk away, not yet.” He gestures at the chain and collar.“Because then the others would find you. And they’d finish what I refuse to.”

Resentment flares, but I notice a flicker ofregretin his expression. “So I’m stuck,” I mutter, “trapped with you in a ruin, waiting for my ankle to heal. And then what? You keep me here forever?”