Page 49

After a moment, she helps me sit upright. The pain is excruciating, but I clench my teeth, determined. “We must move,” I rasp. “They might search the valleys.”

She nods, although tears remain in her eyes. “I’ll help you. We’ll find a cave or a hidden path, something.” A flicker ofthat silver aura pulses around her fingertips, responding to her emotion. She flinches, half afraid. “I—I can’t control it well yet.”

I grip her hand gently. “You saved us with that power. We’ll learn to harness it,” I say, voice trembling from exhaustion. She stares at me with an odd mixture of hope and sorrow.We’ll face this new reality together—my wings destroyed, her magic newly awakened.

Slowly, with her supporting most of my weight, we stand. I hiss as the freshly cauterized stumps on my back press against the air. The world spins, but I manage to stay upright with her help. She wraps an arm around me. Our eyes meet in the hush of dawn, the ravine’s shadows retreating.We’re free… in the sense that no immediate gargoyle hunts us.Yet the future looms uncertain. The clan remains hostile, the Alpha possibly alive under that rubble, dark elves still out there. But at least we hold each other, battered survivors forging a new path.

She brushes a hand across my cheek, tears mingling with a faint, waning glow around her fingertips. “I’m so sorry about your wings,” she whispers, voice catching. “You did it… for me.”

A shaky breath escapes me. “They were never truly mine if it meant harming you. I’m free of them, and free of that old vow.” The pain is beyond words, but my resolve stands. “We’ll keep going, Elyria. Together.”

She swallows tears, nodding. Our gazes lock, a quiet understanding passing. We nearly died—nearly killed each other at the clan’s command. But we refused. In that refusal, we’ve carved a love out of ashes.

Carefully, step by agonizing step, we begin our trek through the ravine, guided by the pale sunrise that spills across jagged rocks. Each movement jolts agony through my severed wings, each breath a challenge. Yet Elyria’s presence steadies me, her frail body lending surprising strength. My mind flicks to theindefinite future: we must find refuge, a place to recover and learn to control her magic, far from gargoyle or dark elf tyranny.

As we limp forward, hand in hand, I feel the first surge of real hope. We shattered the clan’s ring of cruelty, defied the Alpha’s edict, awakened a power that might protect us from here on. My wings are gone, but I’ve never felt more certain of who I am—a guardian for the woman I love, forging a new life beyond the clan’s twisted shadow.

The wind sighs along the cliffs, carrying distant echoes of gargoyle roars. But their fortress stands behind us, a place we pray never to see again. Elyria helps me over a rocky outcrop, her collar half-broken, smoldering with dormant runes. The chain rattles uselessly at her side, no longer binding her. We share a weary glance, hearts beating in unison.We’re free, though battered to the core.

In that fragile dawn, we vanish into the wild foothills, broken wings and awakened magic, hearts bound by a vow stronger than any chain. We have no illusions—it will be a difficult road. But we survived the clan’s verdict by choosing each other over the world.No alpha, no oath, no dark elves can break that bond.

15

ELYRIA

Iwake to the thin breath of dawn brushing across my cheek, the air cold enough to make me shiver despite the ragged cloak draped over my shoulders. The rocky hollow where we’ve sheltered is cramped and uneven, barely shielded by a leaning slab of granite. Even so, it’s a haven compared to the horror we left behind. The events of last night weigh on me like a millstone: the gargoyle arena, Korrin’s wings sheared by his own blade, my magic erupting in a tempest of silver-white flame. My entire body aches, remnants of that surge still coursing through my veins, leaving them raw and oversensitive.

I adjust, careful not to jostle Korrin, who lies propped against the rock behind me. He’s asleep, or something close to it—his face pulled tight in pain, breath shallow. My gaze flickers to the bandaged stumps where his wings used to be, each wound blackened at the edges from my frantic cauterization. Even in the dim gray light, I see his flesh is tender and swollen. My chest constricts at the memory of him lifting that sword with trembling arms and hacking his own wings off rather than kill me. A wave of guilt and fierce love tangles in my throat.Yougave up flight for me. I can’t ever repay that.My tear ducts sting, and I blink rapidly to keep them at bay.

Over the past hours, we dozed fitfully, half expecting gargoyles to descend at any moment, drawn by the reek of blood or the raw magic that might still cling to me. Each time the wind howled, my heart hammered, imagining a patrol’s wings overhead. But so far, no one’s found us. Maybe the fortress is still reeling from the chaos we unleashed.The entire clan was in an uproar, and the Alpha lay half-buried under collapsed rubble.Another pang:Will he survive? And what about the dark elves who allied with them?

At the thought of the dark elves, a fresh wave of panic seizes me.They once enslaved me, then nearly recaptured me. They’ll not stop just because we escaped the fortress.My hands shake around the half-broken collar that remains fused to my neck, a harsh reminder of how close they came to reclaiming me. I swallow the bile rising in my throat.Don’t lose yourself again. We got out. For now, that’s enough.

Korrin stirs behind me, exhaling a low groan. My chest aches at how weak his voice sounds. “Elyria,” he murmurs. I twist carefully to face him, placing my palm on his feverish brow. His eyes half-open, gold irises dulled with pain, yet relief flickers there when he sees me.

“Good morning,” I say softly, fighting the urge to weep. “How do you feel?”

A bitter laugh rasps past his lips. “Like I fought the entire clan,” he mutters, wincing. Then his gaze drops to the bandages. The sorrow in his expression is so raw it steals my breath.He’ll never fly again.I brush my forehead to his, letting him sense my support without words. He closes his eyes, tears glistening on his dark lashes.

I brush my fingertips over his temple. “You’re alive,” I whisper, voice trembling. “And free from them. We both are.”My mind returns to the desperate moments in the arena when he raised the blade, me kneeling in chains.He chose me. He shattered everything he was for me.What feels like a tidal wave of love surges through my chest, almost painful in its intensity.

He nods, breathing ragged. “I’d make the same choice again,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. A tear slips down his cheek, raw honesty shining in his eyes. “Though… I’d prefer not to lose quite so much blood next time.” A shaky attempt at humor. My throat tightens, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.He can still smile, even with the world against us.

I stroke his hair gently. “No more losing blood,” I manage in a wobbly voice. “We have to survive. The clan might still hunt us. The dark elves too.” My words taste of dread, but it’s the truth.

His jaw tightens. “We’ll manage,” he murmurs. Then, with effort, he forces himself upright. He stifles a cry as the motion aggravates his wounds, fresh blood staining the bandages. My entire body tenses, wanting to lay him back down, but I see the determination in his face.He refuses to remain helpless.A pang of guilty pride tugs at me.He’s unstoppable in spirit, even wingless and half-dead.

When he’s seated against the rock, breath rasping, I inspect the bandages carefully.They need changing, but we have limited supplies.My cloak is already ripped to tatters from the frantic flight. The memory of searing his wounds with my half-controlled magic still haunts me: the stench of burnt flesh, his tortured screams. My eyes prick with tears again. But I swallow them.Now is not the time for despair.I rewrap the cloth as best I can, ignoring his soft groans. Each muffled cry pierces my heart.I will not let him die here.

“Korrin,” I say, voice low yet urgent, “I need to find water, maybe some herbs. Something to help with infection.” We have no healing magic, no potions, just the faint scraps of knowledge gleaned from survival. The memory of the monastery’s texts flitsthrough my mind, but the fortress destroyed that chance to learn more.We’re on our own.

He nods, though worry shadows his features. “I’ll be all right,” he murmurs, but the tremor in his voice betrays his pain. “I’ll stay put… watch for trouble.” His lips twist in a rueful smile. “Not that I can chase them off easily.”

My heart breaks at the resignation in his tone, but I nod, kissing his forehead softly. “I’ll be back soon,” I promise. “Stay hidden.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling shakily. I wait a moment, reluctant to leave him alone, but necessity drives me. If we don’t address those wounds, he could succumb to fever. And if we can’t move soon, the clan or dark elves might find us unprepared.

Rising, I test my own battered limbs. My ankles ache from the shackles, my wrists chafe raw. The half-melted collar still clings to my neck, runes flickering dead—thank the gods. My hair is matted with soot and sweat. But physically, I can walk, at least. The arcs of magic that once danced under my skin remain dormant now, leaving me trembling from the memory.I used unimaginable force. Could I do so again if pressed? I have no clue.Fear ripples through me:Magic that wild might kill me or Korrin as easily as any foe.But I push the thought aside, focusing on the moment.