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“She threatens nothing,” I retort, though my knees shake. “You threaten everything by chaining us to your fear.”

A ripple of shock runs through the crowd.I have never spoken to the Alpha so disrespectfully.But I can’t hide my fury.If I die, let it be with truth on my tongue.Elyria stirs on the floor, struggling to push herself onto one elbow, her wide eyeslocked on me. I wish I could gather her in my arms, but a ring of armed gargoyles stands between us.

The Alpha points his staff. “Your defiance ends here.” A swirl of red lightning arcs from the staff, aimed at me. I instinctively raise my wounded wing, bracing for agony. The bolt slams into me with a jolt of scorching pain. I choke on a cry, stumbling, wing membranes burning.He’s powerful enough to kill me in one strike if he wishes.

My knees hit the ground again. Blood pulses in my ears. The taste of charred flesh floods my senses. Elyria screams my name, her voice hoarse and desperate. She tries to stand, chain rattling, but guards keep her pinned. The collar’s runes glow, containing her purna spark. My chest heaves, mind spinning.This is the end.The Alpha readies another strike, staff raised high, the crowd bellowing for blood.

But then he halts, a gleam of vicious cunning flickering in his eyes. He lowers the staff slightly and gestures to the sword that remains embedded in the arena floor, not far from me. “You want to die a traitor’s death? Or prove me wrong.” He sneers, glancing at the battered ring where Elyria kneels. “Pick up the blade again. End this purna. We might yet spare your miserable life.”

A savage hush. My breath rasps. I can barely stand, wings trembling from that lightning bolt. My entire body screams in pain. I close my eyes, recalling all that led me here: the day I first spared Elyria, the nights we shared in the wild, the tears in her eyes as we realized we could not exist without each other.I will not kill her.That oath is carved into my bones. The clan or the Alpha can do as they wish.

I force myself upright again, ignoring the waves of pain. My vision swims. The crowd shifts, anticipating my next move. Elyria sobs softly, tears cutting pale lines through the soot on hercheeks.She thinks we’re doomed.A strangled noise escapes me.I must show them—I won’t be controlled again.

The Alpha’s voice booms, “Korrin, this is your last chance.” His staff crackles, but he holds his strike, waiting to see if I’ll pick up the sword. The entire arena hushes, a dreadful hush. I stagger toward the embedded blade, the gargoyles parting slightly to allow me. My hands tremble as I grip the hilt, yanking it from the stone. A hush of excitement or horror flutters among the watchers.They think I might do it.

Sword in hand, I pivot, ignoring the agony in my side. Elyria’s chain rattles as she tries to crawl closer, tears rolling down her cheeks. The ring holds her fast. Her eyes meet mine, a silent question:Will you truly—?She can’t finish the thought. My own heart clenches with love and anguish.I can’t kill her, can’t let them kill her either.The crowd presses in, wings rustling, waiting for me to strike.

A savage clarity grips me.The clan’s pride is in my wings.They consider them a symbol of my lethal prowess, a gift from the Alpha to carry out his will. If I strip that away, I shatter the clan’s hold on me.Yes, it’s madness, but better that than kill Elyria.My entire life, I soared above them as the perfect executioner. Now, I’ll renounce that power in front of everyone.

Time slows. Elyria’s eyes widen, sensing something. The Alpha snarls, sensing my intent. Gargoyles shift uncertainly, not sure what I’m doing. I tighten my grip on the blade, inhaling a trembling breath. My gaze flicks from her tear-streaked face to the black, curved sword.I can’t do it halfway—I must make a statement that no one can ignore.My wings burn with the memory of flight.Goodbye, old life.

With a roar that tears from the depths of my soul, I raise the sword overhead. But instead of driving it into Elyria, I swing it backward at my own wings. Pain explodes as steel meets flesh and membrane. The entire world becomes a shriek of agony.Gargoyles gasp in collective disbelief. The blade hacks into the arch of my left wing, snapping bone with a sickening crack. Fire surges through my nerves. My mouth opens in a silent scream, tears streaming. Blood spatters across the polished floor.

The crowd erupts in chaos. Some gargoyles recoil in horror, others snarl, trying to lunge forward. The Alpha bellows, staff blazing. But I’m not done—my mind roils with unstoppable momentum.Both wings.I pivot, swinging the blade again at my right wing, severing tendons, feeling the bone snap under the impact. Another roar tears from my lips, raw agony flooding every sense. My legs nearly buckle.I can’t fly, I can’t fight, but I choose her over flight or clan.The sword slips from my trembling hand, clanging on the stone.

Blood streams down my back, wings limp and shattered behind me. The ring echoes with stunned silence. Not even the Alpha’s staff crackles. Elyria cries out my name, voice shaking with heartbreak.She sees me bleed, sees me sever the last piece of me that was the clan’s property.I fall to my knees, tears scorching my cheeks, dizzy from pain. But I manage to rasp, “I do not need wings… to… protect her.” My voice ragged. “I… choose her.”

For a heartbeat, nobody moves. Gargoyles gape, stunned by my self-mutilation. Then pandemonium explodes. Half the clan roars in outrage, others recoil from the sheer brutality. The Alpha unleashes a howl of unbridled fury. “You lunatic!” he snarls, staff blazing anew. “You would rather maim yourself than obey me? Then I’ll see you both torn apart!”

Varzak leaps from the dais, brandishing a spear. Guards swarm the ring. My head spins with blood loss. Elyria screams my name, still chained, still powerless. The collar’s runes flicker, half-burned from her earlier surge of magic.If only she could break free.My heart lurches:We must survive this moment of chaos.

Summoning the last of my strength, I rise on unsteady legs, ignoring the agony. The remnants of my wings hang limp, excruciating with each step.I no longer have flight, but I can still fight.With a snarl, I stoop to grab the sword again. My arms shake, drenched in blood, but I grip the hilt with fierce resolve.I may die, but I’ll not let them murder her unopposed.

Varzak rushes me, spear aimed at my chest. Pain be damned, I swing the blade in a wide arc, forcing him back. He snarls, tail lashing. We circle each other, the crowd pressing in. My body is failing, but my will burns bright.I have no illusions: we’re hopelessly outnumbered.Still, I might buy her a chance. She tries to yank her chain from the floor ring, tears flooding her eyes, face a mask of dread. My heart twists.

Varzak lunges, feinting left, then thrusting the spear at my wounded flank. I manage a parry, wincing as the movement jars the broken stumps of my wings. Blood pools under me, making the floor slick. I slip, and Varzak seizes the opening, slamming the spear shaft into my ribcage. My vision darkens from pain. I gasp, knees nearly buckling. Varzak cackles, forcing me backward, aiming the spear at my throat.I can’t hold out.

Then a savage wave of silver-white light explodes behind Varzak, flinging him sideways with a startled yelp. I blink through tears to see Elyria, chain half-wrenched from the ring. Her arms glow with that same luminous energy as before, but stronger—like a storm condensed into human form. Her eyes blaze with an otherworldly radiance, shining silver tears. Her collar crackles, half-broken, runes failing to suppress the surge.She’s unleashing it fully, awakened by the horror of this moment.

The crowd screams in alarm. Gargoyles in the stands recoil from the raw magical force swirling around her, a vortex of shimmering power that crackles with ozone. The ring’s floor cracks beneath her feet. The chain smokes where it touches herglowing wrists, metal warping under the heat.She’s found the strength.My heart leaps with awe and fear—High Purna power truly awakened.

A wave of force radiates outward, hurling gargoyle guards off their feet. Even the Alpha staggers, staff flickering. The red lightning he conjures collides with her silver wave, scattering sparks across the ring. It’s way stronger. Elyria lets out a wrenching cry, tears streaming down her glowing face as she pours everything into the release. The chain on her collar snaps with a tortured screech, links scattering. She stands free, arcs of silver energy dancing along her arms, hair whipping in an invisible wind.

The entire clan is thrown into chaos. Gargoyles scramble, some diving for cover, others trying to rally. Varzak tries to stand, but another pulse knocks him back down. My head spins.She’s unstoppable in this moment.A fierce exultation courses through me:Yes, Elyria, destroy their tyranny.But fear grips me, too: can she control it?I must help her somehow.

Elyria advances across the ring, silver flame wreathing her. The floor cracks under each step, sending shockwaves that topple gargoyles left and right. The onlookers on the tiers cry out, half stampeding to flee. She gazes at me, heartbreak and determination mingling on her radiant features. “Korrin,” she chokes, tears in her voice. “I—I won’t let them kill you.”

I try to stand, but my legs tremble from blood loss and agony where my wings were severed. The sword clatters from my grip. “Elyria,” I croak, eyes stinging with tears. “You’re free—go!”

She shakes her head, silver aura crackling. “Not without you.” Her voice resonates with a power not entirely her own—like a storm’s fury laced with heartbreak. She clenches her fists, turning to face the Alpha, who gathers a final surge of red lightning, staff pointed at her. “No more!” she shouts.

He unleashes a bolt that rips toward her with violent speed. For an instant, my heart seizes.She might be overwhelmed.But Elyria raises her glowing arms, channeling the destructive wave of magic. The bolt collides with her silver barrier, sizzling in an explosion of sparks. She staggers under the impact, but doesn’t fall. Her aura flares, pushing the red lightning back, reversing it in a brilliant arc that engulfs the Alpha in a blaze of crackling energy.

He roars, knocked back, staff spinning from his grip. The dais trembles, pillars splintering. Stone fragments rain down. Gargoyles shriek as the entire structure cracks from the force. My jaw drops.She’s toppling the Alpha’s seat.

Sensing defeat, the clan’s lesser gargoyles scramble to retreat, flapping wings or diving through archways. Some turn to attack Elyria, but each time they close in, another burst of silver flame sends them sprawling. I muster a ragged breath.She’s terrifying in this power.But I see tears glistening on her cheeks, the toll it takes. Her body quakes, eyes glowing with a relentless brilliance. She can’t sustain this for long without burning herself out.

Varzak attempts one last lunge at me, spear raised, presumably to kill me in the confusion. I brace, though I’m nearly spent. But before he lands the blow, Elyria flings out a hand, silver arcs dancing. He’s hurled across the ring, slamming into a broken column with bone-snapping force. My stomach twists at the brutality, but relief floods me.She’s saved me again.