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“Korrin,” I say finally, voice low. “Do you sense it?”

He looks up, brow ridge knitting. “Yes.”

One word, but it resonates with apprehension. “What do you think it is?” I press, unable to keep the tremor from my tone.

His gaze drifts to the jagged tower window. “Scouts, perhaps. Could be your old masters. Or mine.”

A chill slides down my spine.Dark elves, or gargoyles.Both are nightmares in their own right. I swallow, crossing the short distance between us. He smells of smoke and damp stone. I remember the warmth of his body against mine, but I shove that memory down, focusing on the fear that churns my gut. “We can’t stay here if they’re closing in, can we?”

His jaw tightens. “For now, we wait. If the threat grows, we move.”

I hate the idea of running, yet an ominous tension thrums in the air. “What if we leave now? Find somewhere safer.”

He exhales, setting aside the moss. “Where would we go that’s safer? Farther into the forest, we might run into my kin. Closer to the roads, we risk the dark elves.”

A spark of frustration flares in my chest.Trapped.“So we do nothing?”

His eyes flash. “We stay vigilant.”

I clench my fists, forced to concede. There are no good options.Is this how it will always be—caught between two unstoppable forces, pinned in place by fear?

The next few days pass with an undercurrent of restless dread. Korrin and I keep watch in shifts, scouring the forest perimeter for any hint of invaders. I sense him scanning the skies as if expecting his gargoyle brethren to descend. Meanwhile, I check for signs of dark elf presence—broken twigs, footprints, or the acrid smell they leave behind.

Each time I step beyond the ruin, my heart pounds with a conflicting cocktail of anxiety and relief. There’s no chain tethering me physically to the tower—Korrin gave me enough slack so I can move around without hobbling—but the collar remains a constant weight on my throat. A reminder that my so-called freedom is conditional. Sometimes I seethe about it, directing my anger at him. Other times, I see his guarded expression when I mention it, sense the conflict within him. Then my rage softens into something complicated—pity or empathy, I can’t be sure.

He hunts for us, bringing back a small deer one afternoon. We dress it by the creek, shoulders bumping awkwardly as we try to avoid each other’s eyes. Our conversation is stilted. Whenever our hands brush or our gazes meet, heat licks at my chest. A swirl of memory from that night—his mouth on mine, the rumble of thunder outside, the moment I clung to him as if he were my lifeline. I hate how it haunts me. I hate how the possibility of it happening again both terrifies and intrigues me.

At night, the tension grows heavier. We curl on opposite sides of the dying fire, feigning sleep. I lie awake, ears pricked for any sign of encroaching danger. Sometimes I wonder if he does the same, if he wrestles with the memory of our closeness.

We’ve grown adept at dancing around each other, acknowledging the simmering tension without daring to reigniteit. There’s an unspoken truce: I won’t bring up that night, and he won’t push me to talk about it. But the storm that led us to that moment seems poised to break again. I can feel it in the charged air, the way we keep finding ourselves within arm’s reach before pulling back.

One morning, a low mist drapes the forest. I’m outside gathering kindling near the shattered tower wall when I catch a whisper of voices drifting through the trees. My entire body goes rigid. Dark elves have a hissing cadence, gargoyles an undertone of guttural clicks. This voice is low, muffled. I can’t quite make out the words, but the hair on my neck rises.

I crouch behind a fallen column, dropping the half-broken twigs in my arms. A prickle of dread slides through my veins.Please let it be a passing traveler, not a scout.

The voice fades, replaced by a rustling that might be footsteps. My heart pounds so loudly I fear they’ll hear it. Slowly, I edge back toward the tower entrance.Korrin— I have to warn him.My ankle twinges, but it’s strong enough now that I can move swiftly with minimal pain.

Inside, I find Korrin perched on the second-level rubble, scanning the treetops. His gaze snaps to mine the instant I step through. “What is it?” he demands quietly, reading the alarm in my eyes.

“Someone’s out there,” I whisper, glancing over my shoulder. “Low voices. Couldn’t make out if it’s elves or… something else.”

His wings tighten. “Could be a dark elf patrol.” He leaps down in a single fluid motion, landing beside me without a sound. “Stay here.”

I bristle, but fear knots my stomach. “You said we’d handle threats together.”

He hesitates, clearly torn. “Fine. But don’t get reckless.”

We move in tandem, him leading the way with swift, silent strides, me trailing behind with as much stealth as I can muster.My collar chain rattles softly if I’m not careful, so I clutch it to my chest to still the noise. Outside, the mist swirls around us, chilly against my cheeks.

We crouch by a ridge of collapsed stone at the ruin’s perimeter. Korrin lifts a clawed hand, motioning for me to stay low. Carefully, he peers over. I hold my breath. A moment later, he ducks down, brow furrowing.

“Dark elves,” he says under his breath. “Three or four. They’re searching the area.”

A jolt of terror spikes through me. I recall the faces of my old overseers, the sneering cruelty. My brand across my back itches with remembered pain.Have they finally come for me?

“Could we fight them?” I ask, heart thudding. “Or should we run?”

Korrin’s expression is grim. “If it’s just four, I can take them. But it risks alerting more. They might have a campsite nearby. If they vanish, the fortress will send more. We need to avoid a direct clash if possible.”