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My chest tightens. “She is no monster. She has not awakened any destructive magic, nor does she?—”

The Alpha snarls, cutting me off. “Silence! I’ve heard enough. You defied my direct order to cull every human female suspect. Worse, you killed your own brother gargoyles in your flight. Their blood stains your claws.”

A wave of grief surges. I recall the fortress courtyard where I slew one of my kin. “They attacked me,” I say, voice cracking. “They would have taken her life.”

“Her life is forfeit by the clan’s decree!” the Alpha roars, eyes blazing. “You place a purna’s existence above ours? You shame us. In every generation, we have had an executioner, unwavering in his loyalty. But you—” His voice trembles with rage. “You taint our lineage with cowardice and lust for a human slave.”

My fists clench in the iron cuffs, fury and anguish coiling together. The elders shift, muttering among themselves. Some watch me with contempt, others with pity. Varzak stands behind me, a smug grin curling his lips. He’s enjoying my humiliation.

I grit my teeth. “If she’s a threat, we can confine her, or reason?—”

“Reason?” the Alpha hisses. “The only reason is to ensure no purna magic can rise to slaughter us again. You disgust me, Korrin.”

His wings flare in a display of dominance. Then, with a snap of his claws, he signals a pair of subordinate gargoyles to approach from the side. They drag something behind them. My breath catches—through the gloom, I see a figure, ragged and trembling, but undeniably human.Elyria?My heart leaps, only to plummet. No, it’s not her. This woman is older, her hair in disarray. She clutches a childlike figure behind her. Two purna captives, presumably. My stomach turns. They look terrified, eyes hollow from captivity.

The Alpha gestures coldly. “You see these? They are lesser purnas discovered in the outlying forest. We keep them as leverage, ensuring no budding witches threaten us. Some, wecull when the time is right.” The woman trembles, tears on her face as a gargoyle yanks her chain. The child cowers.

“I show you this,” the Alpha continues, voice echoing, “to remind you that we do not spare potential purna. We don’t allow them to breed or awaken. Yet you not only spared one, but championed her.” He steps closer, looming over me, the reek of brimstone swirling around him. “Unless you prove otherwise, I see no reason not to tear off your wings and let you rot in stone sleep.”

A spike of dread stabs my chest.He demands proof of loyalty.My mouth goes dry. “What do you want?” I rasp.

A cruel smile flickers across his obsidian features. “The purna. The one you call Elyria. She is in the custody of the dark elves. They will deliver her to us soon, in exchange for certain… considerations. Her existence spares them from further gargoyle raids.” He leans in, voice dropping to a rumble. “I will give you a chance to atone. You will kill her yourself, Korrin, in the presence of the entire clan. Show us your loyalty still burns, and we might forgive your transgressions. Fail, and you both die slowly.”

My mind reels.They have her? They plan to exchange her with the clan? Or is she still with the elves? Either way, they intend to force me to kill her.A horrifying numbness seeps through me. “That’s… monstrous,” I whisper, shaking. “We can’t— She’s done nothing?—”

He snarls, a brutal backhand striking my jaw. The shock knocks me half off my feet, the shackles biting my wrists. I taste blood again. “You dare question me?” the Alpha bellows. “I have given you a path to redemption. A single kill. She means less than nothing. A trifling sacrifice to keep the clan safe.”

A flood of anguish roils. My stomach churns.Kill Elyria? The woman who awakened my heart, who I bled for?The very idea is so vile I can hardly breathe. Yet the alternative is unthinkable—my own slow torture, and she likely slaughtered anyway.No matter which path, it ends in her death if I follow the Alpha’s logic. Unless…My mind whirls, frantic for an out.

He sees my hesitation, a cold triumph flickering in his gaze. The entire hall waits, silent, for my response. Elders murmur, some snarling curses at me, others wearing guarded expressions.They want me to break.

I swallow, forcing myself to speak around the agony in my chest. “If I do this… you’ll spare me?” My words taste like ash.

A cruel grin spreads across the Alpha’s face. “We spare you, yes—if you complete your duty in front of all. Kill her, and your clan forgives. Refuse, and you both perish.” He steps back, wings flaring in finality. “The choice is yours.”

Despair crushes me.What can I do?Every fiber of my being screams to protect Elyria. The memory of her tears, her chain rattling, her gentle hand on my cheek…I can’t betray that. I can’t kill her.But the Alpha corners me. Even if I choose to let them kill me, they’d likely murder her as well. She’s powerless in the clan’s eyes, a purna to be culled.All is lost indeed.My soul feels like a gaping wound.

Varzak sneers, stepping forward. “The Alpha will announce the ceremony once the elves deliver her. Until then, you remain in the lower keep. Don’t think of escaping. We’ll watch your every breath.”

My head spins with horror. They plan to publicly execute her. The alpha wants me to carry it out as a twisted show of loyalty. My only hope is to find a way to sabotage that plan, to free her. But I’m chained, battered, and alone against the entire clan.Is there any path that ends with us both alive?

They drag me from the throne hall, returning me to a narrower passage that leads deeper underground. My wings ache with every jolt, the bandage on my side torn away, fresh blood trickling. A wave of dizziness nearly topples me.The gargoyles—Varzak chief among them—escort me to a cell much like the first, but larger, fitted with heavier chains that loop around my torso to pin my wings tight. The sense of imprisonment crushes me.I’m as helpless as Elyria now.A savage guilt tears at me:She must be terrified. Possibly tortured.My heart rages.

Varzak lingers as the lesser guards lock the irons. He smirks, delivering a final blow to my gut that drives the air from my lungs. “I never did like you, Korrin,” he murmurs, leaning close. “The Alpha’s golden pup, so perfect in your kills. But you’re not so special now.” He twirls a small blade in his claws, eyes gleaming. “When the time comes, if you hesitate, I’ll finish her off myself. Perhaps I’ll do it anyway, just to see your face.”

I seethe, choking on fury. But my body is too battered to fight back. He laughs at my impotent rage, then stalks out, leaving me shackled in gloom. The heavy cell door slams, the clang echoing in my chest.

I sag against the wall, breath shuddering. My entire being throbs with pain. I can barely move my arms or wings. Every shift of the chain scrapes the raw flesh around my shoulders. Yet the physical agony is nothing compared to the roiling torment in my mind.Kill Elyria. Or watch her slaughtered while I die too.The Alpha offers no alternative.

“What do I do?” I whisper to the empty cell, voice cracking. My thoughts spiral. If she’s delivered to the clan, I’ll be forced to stand before the entire host, weapons in hand, eyes on her terrified face.I cannot.My whole being aches at the very image.Better to die.But if I simply refuse, they’ll kill her anyway, likely in a more brutal fashion.No matter the choice, the clan wins. We lose.My throat tightens with grief.

Memories flood me: her laughter in quiet moments, her unwavering gaze when we overcame each crisis together, the feel of her soft warmth in my arms during that final night we trulyhad each other. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, though she can’t hear. “I promised to protect you. And now I can do nothing.”

Hours crawl by in that cell, torchlight flickering across the corridor outside. Occasionally, a guard passes, sneering or spitting in my direction. Once, Varzak returns to hurl insults, goading me to rage. I close my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction. My mind rummages for some desperate plan—escape? But how can I break these chains alone? Allies in the clan? I doubt any would defy the Alpha for my sake.I’m truly alone.

Still, a faint ember of defiance lingers. I recall Elyria’s courage, how she never succumbed to despair even when shackled by dark elves. If there’s any chance to free her, I must keep faith.I will not hurt or kill her. I’d rather die.The question is how to ensure she survives.

On the second day of my imprisonment, judging by the changing torches—someone unexpected visits. The cell door creaks open, and an older gargoyle steps in, his wings dusty with age. Rhyzgran, once a trainer of novices, stands with a troubled expression. He waves away the guard, who stands outside to give us a measure of privacy. Rhyzgran was never cruel, as some trainers were. He always believed in harnessing a gargoyle’s mind as much as its body. My chest twists with memory.