Page 44

They haul me along a corridor that broadens into a flight of steps. I fight not to stumble, but my legs are cramped,weak. Each time I falter, the chain yanks mercilessly. My lungs burn. The fortress hum feels louder now—an undercurrent of anticipation, like a crowd gathering.They’re going to stage a spectacle. A public execution. Possibly Korrin is forced to do the deed.I swallow bile.

We traverse corridors flanked by gargoyles. Some glare with contempt, others smirk. A hush falls as I pass, the chain rattling my humiliating captivity. My mind whirls:No escape, no weapons, no illusions.My dormant magic flickers again, an electric buzz in my blood. Desperation surges—I want to free it, burn these chains, but I have no clue how.I never learned. My mother died before she could teach me. The purna lineage is a ghost in my veins.

My breath hitches at each step, tears threatening as I imagine Korrin on the other side of that door, a blade in his hands, forced to choose.Please, gods, let him find a way.But I recall how the dark elves hammered into me the futility of hope.They told me no matter where I ran, I’d be recaptured.Now the gargoyles prove them right. My nails dig into my palms.I can’t let them break me before I see him one last time.

At last, the corridor opens onto a wide set of steps. The guard gargoyles flank me. I see a pair of massive doors ahead, slightly ajar, from which a dull roar emanates—like a crowd’s collective breath. Torchlight flickers across the threshold. My heart pounds.The arena.If I wasn’t already shaking, I’d collapse.

They push me forward, the chain snapping taut. Fear saturates my every pore.Korrin…I cling to his memory: his protective arms, his fierce scowl at any threat, the gentle way he’d hold me while I trembled.I can’t lose that.

The doors swing open, and I’m thrust into a vast circular chamber thrumming with gargoyle voices. Stone tiers rise along the sides, filled with a sea of gargoyle faces. Torches ring the arena’s perimeter, throwing flickering light over the polishedfloor. My eyes dart across the crowd—some gargoyles snarl at me, others watch with cold indifference. The stench of tension is suffocating.This is a public spectacle indeed.

In the center stands a dais, and on it is the Alpha, looming like a regal beast. His obsidian wings are partially unfurled, his horns framing a visage carved by cruelty. At his side is Varzak, if I recall the name from my glimpses—an enforcer with a twisted smirk. But my gaze zeroes in on the figure forced to kneel at the dais’s edge, shackled but unbowed: Korrin. My heart almost leaps from my chest.He’s alive.Fresh tears spring to my eyes.

He’s battered, wings strapped with rough bandages. A slash mars his chest, though a fresh scab covers it. His expression is hollow, eyes flicking to me the instant I’m forced forward. Shock and anguish flare across his face. He struggles against his own restraints, as though wanting to reach me. My soul lurches.He’s truly here. But so bound. So wounded.

Gargoyles part around me, forming a ring that leaves me no escape. My captors wrench the chain, forcing me into the center. I see the glint of a sword lying on a stone pedestal—dark metal, carved with runes. My mouth goes dry.The executioner’s blade.A wave of nausea churns.

The Alpha lifts a clawed hand, and the audience hushes. A deep voice resonates, echoing across the arena. “Clan,” he announces, eyes glowing. “Behold the purna who threatened our survival. She’s here to face justice from our chosen executioner—Korrin.” He gestures to where Korrin kneels. Murmurs ripple among the crowd.

My pulse hammers. I see how Korrin’s face contorts, tears shining in his eyes as they unchain him from the dais but keep shackles around his wrists. Another gargoyle shoves him toward the blade.They mean for him to do this.My throat goes tight.He won’t… He can’t… but they’ll kill us both if he refuses.My mind screams.

Korrin staggers, catching himself against the stone pedestal. The clan roars in anticipation. My guards drag me across the floor, until I’m only a few feet from him, the chain still taut. Our eyes lock—he’s trembling. “Elyria,” he mouths. My tears flow freely.

The Alpha’s voice booms. “Korrin, take the blade. Complete your vow. Slay her before us all.” A hush thickens. I see Varzak grin, crossing his arms with smug expectation.

Korrin’s claws scrape the dais. Blood seeps from reopened wounds on his side. With a trembling breath, he grips the black-hilted sword. He won’t meet my eyes for a heartbeat, anguish twisting his features. When he does look up, I see pure torment—love and apology warring with fear.

My throat constricts.I can’t speak, words fail me.All I can do is stare, hoping the bond we forged transcends this horror. Perhaps he sees it in my eyes:I trust you, no matter what.

He lifts the blade, stepping forward. My captors force me to my knees, pressing me to lower my head. My entire body shakes. This is it. The clan rumbles with savage excitement.They want my blood.My vision blurs. My chest feels caved in.Korrin…

He stands over me, sword raised. The hush is deafening. My breath comes shallow, heart pounding so loud it’s all I hear.He won’t, he won’t… but if he doesn’t, we die.My magic flickers in my blood, a faint spark that can’t break these chains, can’t shield me from the blade. The gloom closes in, time slowing to a single point of tension.

Korrin trembles, tears sliding down his face. He meets my gaze, lips parted. A single moment of absolute clarity:We love each other, even in this final breath.Then he roars, bringing the blade down.

I scream, bracing for agony. My eyes squeeze shut, every muscle bracing for steel biting my flesh. A wave of air rushes overhead. But… the blow doesn’t land. Instead, I hear metalstriking stone with a resounding crash, sparks skittering. The crowd gasps in dismay. I crack my eyes open, heart hammering, to see Korrin’s blade embedded in the ground beside me.

He’s panting, glaring at the Alpha, tears mixing with fury. “No,” he snarls, voice echoing in the hush. “I will not execute her.”

A collective roar erupts from the stands, outrage, shock, disbelief. My entire body floods with raw hope.He refused.But fear crashes just as quickly.They’ll kill us both now.The Alpha’s face contorts in wrath. Varzak leaps forward, claws unsheathed.

“You dare?” Varzak howls, charging. Korrin whips around, intercepting him with a savage blow. The crowd surges to its feet, pandemonium breaking loose. Gargoyles leap from the tiers, some aiming to subdue Korrin, others just eager for blood. My chain jerks as my guards try to drag me back, but confusion reigns.

“Korrin!” I shout, tears streaming. He spares me one desperate glance. I see regret, love, and absolute resolve. Then he roars, flinging Varzak aside with pure ferocity. He’s unstoppable for a heartbeat, but more gargoyles swarm him, wings and claws.We’re about to die.My chest seizes. Yet I see Korrin’s defiance blazing. He’d rather perish fighting than live as a slave to cruelty.

I’m yanked back by the chain, an elf or gargoyle, I can’t tell in the chaos—trying to haul me from the arena. My mind reels:We’re lost.But that faint hum inside me surges, fed by terror and heartbreak. My veins tingle.Is this the magic? Could I do something?

Another blow from Korrin sends gargoyles sprawling. The Alpha roars from the dais, unleashing an oppressive aura that crackles with arcane might. My head dizzies. Korrin staggers from a slash across his wing.He can’t hold out much longer.Despair swells, tears blur my sight.I can’t watch him die.A raw cry tears from my throat, agony fueling my entire being.

Suddenly, a spark flickers inside me, a warmth blossoming in my core. My limbs tingle, the chain around my neck vibrating as though responding to an unseen force. Confusion floods me—Is this me or some external surge?My breath catches. I recall old purna tales:A sudden awakening, triggered by mortal peril.Could that be happening?

“Stop,” I gasp, voice quaking with desperation. The guard hauling my chain pauses, confusion on his face. My terror blossoms into raw anger. A crackle of energy arcs along my skin. I see it—tiny sparks, silver-white, dancing on my arms. The guard’s eyes widen. “Witchcraft,” he hisses, rearing back.

My heart seizes:I have magic.I sense it swirling at my fingertips, but it’s a chaos I can’t direct.Still, I must try.Korrin howls in pain as another gargoyle slams him against the pedestal. My soul wrenches free of caution. “No!” I scream.

A torrent of white-hot energy surges from my hands. The chain rattles violently, the collar heating with a furious hum. The guard is flung backward, colliding with an elf behind him. My wrists glow with an ethereal shimmer that cracks the metal cuffs. I gasp in shock, half-terrified at the raw power sizzling through me. The chain around my throat smokes, but it doesn’t break.Not enough.My magic wavers, untrained. My head throbs, an overwhelming dizziness.

All around, gargoyles recoil in panic or rage. The crowd roars, some screeching “Purna!” and others rearing back with fear. My vision swims. I see Korrin pinned by three gargoyles, Varzak raising a spear. The Alpha bellows commands. My entire being pulses with one thought:Save him, or we lose everything.