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The Alpha regains his feet on the collapsing dais, rage twisting his obsidian face. He stumbles, staff lost, red lightning flickering uselessly around his claws. Elyria levels her gaze on him, brow furrowing. I see the raw anguish in her expression: she doesn’t want to kill him or any gargoyle, but he forces her hand. She releases another surge of power, a wave that cracksthe dais. He’s flung backward, roaring helplessly. A final crash echoes as stone pillars break, burying the Alpha in rubble. Dust plumes, swallowing him from view.

A hush of terrified awe grips the arena. The watchers scatter, fleeing through corridors or taking flight. Elyria breathes in ragged gasps, swaying on her feet. Her aura still glows, though it flickers dangerously. The entire ring is littered with debris, fallen gargoyles moaning or unconscious. I swallow hard, heart hammering with gratitude and alarm. She’s ended the Alpha’s rule in a single catastrophic display.

She turns, stumbling toward me, tears in her glowing eyes. I try to rise, but pain anchors me. My wings—shattered stumps—throb with every heartbeat. Blood pools around my feet. “Korrin,” she breathes, collapsing to her knees beside me, aura crackling in arcs along her arms. Up close, I sense the violent chaos of that unleashed purna power swirling around her. She cups my cheek, expression twisting in sorrow. “You… you cut your own wings… oh gods.”

I manage a broken smile, tears slipping down my face. “I couldn’t kill you,” I rasp. “I’d rather lose my wings, my life, anything.”

She lets out a sob, pressing her forehead to mine. The silver flame dims slightly, as though her emotional release is draining the power. “I can’t let you die now,” she whispers fiercely. “We have to get out of here.”

The ring stands largely abandoned, gargoyles having fled or been knocked unconscious. Rubble from the dais smolders where the Alpha fell. Thunder rumbles overhead—whether from an approaching storm or remnants of magic, I can’t tell. The entire fortress might collapse if more pillars crumble. Elyria lifts her gaze, scanning the cowering gargoyles who remain. None dare approach her shining aura.

She tries to haul me upright, hooking an arm under my shoulder. I grit my teeth, biting down a scream as my broken wings jostle. Blood slicks the floor. We stagger toward one of the archways leading out. My eyes blur with tears from the pain, but her presence steadies me. She’s battered too, collar half-broken, arms trembling with residual power.

Soldiers or enforcers might linger in the corridors, but the arena is in disarray—panic reigns. Elyria’s unstoppable display has shattered their morale. We slip out, stepping over debris and unconscious gargoyles. My heart hammers, each step a jolt of agony. But we keep going, guided by her trembling determination. Torchlight flickers in the corridors beyond, revealing empty halls.They fled. Or they’re regrouping.We must move fast.

She slows near a side passage, glancing back. “Which way?” she asks, voice tight.She expects me to know the fortress layout.My mind races.We can’t scale the main gates, it’s too exposed. A side route to the old catacombs might lead us out.

I point weakly. “Down the eastern hall… a hidden exit behind storage.” My voice is hardly audible, but she nods, supporting me. Step by agonizing step, we traverse corridors etched with gargoyle runes, passing half-collapsed storerooms where I once trained or stored supplies. The memory feels so distant, like a different life. My wings ache, a savage reminder of how thoroughly I’ve severed ties.

Occasionally, we hear scuffles or distant cries. The fortress reels from the vacuum left by the Alpha’s downfall. No one tries to stop us—some gargoyles peer from doorways, but they shrink back upon seeing Elyria’s silver aura.They fear her raw purna might.My battered face contorts in a bittersweet smile. She is unstoppable now.

Finally, we descend a narrow stair leading to an abandoned corridor used for old supplies. My mind fuzzes with exhaustion.She half-carries me, breath ragged, tears still streaming. “Stay with me,” she pleads. “Don’t pass out.”

I cling to consciousness, leaning into her warmth. The corridor ends in a rusted iron gate. She sets me down gently, hands trembling as she tests it. Locked. But she summons a faint crackle of silver flame, hissing as she scorches the lock until it breaks. The reek of melted metal stings my nostrils.

With a final push, she swings the gate open. A cold draft wafts from beyond—a tunnel leading under the fortress walls. Relief pulses in my chest.We’re nearly out.She helps me along the tunnel, each step an agony. My broken wings drag, leaving a trail of blood. My vision dims again, black spots dancing.Just a bit more, Korrin.

We stumble out of a low arch into the open air. Night has fallen fully, a sky of faint stars overhead. The fortress walls loom behind us, but we see no immediate pursuit. A rocky slope extends downward, leading to a narrow ravine. The wind bites, cold against my fevered skin. Elyria breathes a shaky sob of relief. “We’re out,” she gasps.

I sag in her grip, near collapse. “Far enough… we must go… farther,” I whisper, voice cracking. She nods, tears glistening. We begin descending the slope, but each step jars my ravaged back. My mind wavers, consciousness threatening to slip away.

“Hold on,” she urges, trying to keep me upright. Her aura has faded to a faint glow, the collar partially fused around her neck. Blood mats her clothing too, from her own injuries. We’re both so close to the brink.But we’re free.

As we reach the ravine floor, I can go no further. My legs buckle, sending me crumpling to my knees. She tries to ease me down, but the scalding agony rips a cry from my throat. Warm, slick blood coats my hands. My chest heaves with ragged gasps. “Elyria,” I rasp. “Leave me… run… they’ll come.”

She drops beside me, cradling my face. “No,” she chokes, tears streaming. “I won’t leave you. Not after everything.”

I let out a ragged laugh that dissolves into a cough, tasting more blood. My wings are destroyed, my mind ablaze with pain. “You can… survive without me,” I insist, though my heart stutters at the thought. Her eyes flare with fierce devotion.

“We survive together,” she says, voice trembling but resolute. She glances over her shoulder at the fortress high above. No sign of immediate pursuit. Perhaps the chaos within buys us a head start. She lifts a shaking hand, silver sparks dancing faintly on her fingertips. “I can… try to help,” she murmurs. “I don’t know how to heal, but maybe I can burn the wounds shut.”

Fear and hope war in my chest.Cauterizing my wing stumps with purna magic? That might kill me from shock.But it’s better than bleeding out here in the cold. I manage a nod, tears sliding down my cheeks. “Do it.”

She positions me so I lie on my side, wings splayed behind me. Gently, she tears strips from her ruined tunic, pressing them to the worst of the bleeding. Then, trembling, she summons that spark. My entire body tenses, a raw moan of pain escaping. She sets her hand above my left wing stub, a glow forming. “This… will hurt,” she warns, tears in her voice.

I bite down on a piece of cloth, shutting my eyes. The first lick of silver flame sears my flesh, drawing a muffled scream from my throat. My muscles spasm. Elyria sobs, but she continues, forging that glowing heat into a brand that scorches the wound closed. The stench of charred flesh curls my stomach, black spots dancing in my vision.I can’t black out.Summoning everything, I endure. She does the same to the right wing stub, tears and silver flame dripping from her trembling hands.

By the end, I’m half-senseless, shaking violently with feverish pain. But the bleeding has slowed, at least. She collapses beside me, pressing her forehead to mine, hearts beating inragged unison. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles over and over, voice raw with grief.

I can’t speak, only grip her wrist, letting her know I understand. My entire being is numb except for the throbbing agony in my back. Yet relief stirs: we’re outside, away from that monstrous ring.Together.The fortress lights flicker above us, but no gargoyles appear in immediate pursuit. Maybe they have bigger problems—like reeling from Elyria’s unstoppable storm of magic or dealing with their wounded Alpha.

Night wears on as we embrace each other in that ravine. I drift in and out of consciousness, mind drifting with pain. Elyria does her best to bandage me further, though we have no real supplies. She whispers soothing words, tears never far. I dimly recall her pressing water to my lips from a shallow puddle, telling me to hold on. The collar remains fused around her neck, half-ruined but still present. I see the faint runes flicker, as if powerless now.She overcame them.A shaky pride flickers in me. She overcame the entire clan’s might.

At some point near dawn, the sky lightens, a pale hush over the mountains. My fever breaks slightly, allowing me clearer thoughts. Elyria dozes in a weary slump beside me, one arm protectively across my chest. She stirs when I shift, blinking awake with bloodshot eyes.

“Korrin,” she whispers, voice hoarse. “How do you feel?”

I swallow, forcing a breath. “Hurts… but alive,” I manage, which is miracle enough. She lets out a tiny relieved sob, leaning her forehead to mine. Her tears glisten in the early dawn’s light, each droplet a testament to how close we were to doom.