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I slip from our rocky alcove, scanning the rugged foothills for signs of movement. Dawn’s light reveals a valley studded with boulders, sparse trees, and patches of grass. No gargoyle silhouettes mar the sky. No dark elf squads roam in sight. My shoulders sag in relief.At least for now, we’re alone.A biting wind stirs dust devils, stinging my eyes. I set off, hoping to find a stream or edible plants.

As I traverse the rocky slope, I catch fleeting memories of Korrin’s final stand in the arena—the savage grace of himswinging that sword, the heartbreak in his eyes when he realized he couldn’t do what they demanded. My chest tightens again, tears threatening.He gave everything for me—his wings, his clan, his place in the world.I vow, right then, to protect him from the next onslaught. If the clan or dark elves come, I’ll stand between them and him. I can’t let them take him again or punish him further.

I find a narrow stream trickling between the rocks, half-choked with sediment but still yielding fresh water. Kneeling, I cup my hands to drink, the cold liquid shocking my system. A faint tingle runs through me—perhaps the remnants of purna magic.Or just the chill.I fill a battered tin can I salvaged from Korrin’s pack earlier, sealing it with cloth. Next, I scour the rocky outcrops for any sign of herbs. My knowledge is limited, gleaned from old tales or half-remembered lessons. Still, I spot a cluster of small, pale blossoms that I think might bemoon-kiss,known for its antiseptic sap. Carefully, I harvest a handful, ignoring the small nicks on my fingers.

All the while, I remain alert for any patrol. The wind moans across the desolate stones, but no wings beat overhead. A hush lingers, as though even predators avoid this cursed land. My heart flutters with gratitude.Let them keep their distance. We need time to recover.

With water and a meager stash of questionable herbs, I head back, scanning the horizon each time I crest a boulder. Every step rattles my half-burned collar, a metallic jingle that makes my whole being on edge.One day I’ll pry this thing off for good.But for now, I push onward, determined to return to Korrin as quickly as possible.

Reaching the alcove, I find him slumped in a half-doze, lips parted in silent pain. My heart clenches with fresh worry.I took too long.At the scuff of my boots, he startles, wincing as the movement jars his injuries.

“You’re back,” he breathes, relief flooding his voice. “No trouble?”

I kneel beside him, setting the water and herbs aside, pressing my palm to his forehead. He’s still feverish, but not as hot as before. “No trouble,” I confirm, voice soft. “We’re alone for now.”

He exhales, tension draining from his shoulders. Then he notices the herbs and tin can. “You found something.”

I nod, swallowing. “A stream, and these.” I hold up the pale blossoms. “They might help clean your wounds.” A tremor shakes my hands. “I’m not an herbalist, but I’ll do what I can.”

He offers a faint nod of thanks, pain etched on his face. Gently, I peel back the bandages on his wing stumps, ignoring the coil of nausea at the sight of dried blood and charred flesh. My eyes burn with tears, but I keep them at bay.Focus.I dampen a cloth with water, wipe away the crusted grime, and apply the blossoms’ sap with careful dabs. Korrin groans, muscles tensing. My breath hitches.I hate causing him pain.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears brimming. “I— I don’t want to cause you harm.”

He bites back a groan, forcing a shaky smile. “Better pain than infection,” he murmurs. “I trust you, Elyria.” A flush of warmth battles my despair, hearing that quiet devotion.He trusts me, even now.

Methodically, I rebind the stumps with fresh strips from my cloak. My own arms sting where the dark elves scored me, but I ignore it. Korrin’s survival matters more. Each bandage snug, I settle back, panting from the exertion. He slumps against the rock, eyelids drooping.

The hush that follows feels oddly serene. The valley remains empty, the morning air crisp. I close my eyes for a moment, letting his presence ground me. Then, heart hammering, I lean in, brushing a tender kiss across his lips. He responds with a softexhale, pressing back, tears sliding down his cheeks. The taste of salt and sweat tangles on my tongue. Romance and heartbreak fuse in my chest, a swirl of gratitude that we’re not parted by death.

When we break apart, breath ragged, I rest my forehead to his. “I love you,” I say, voice trembling. “No matter what hunts us, we’ll face it together.”

He nods, tears trailing into his stubble. “I love you, too. I gave up the clan for you, and I’d do it again,” he whispers. The sincerity in his eyes anchors me.We are each other’s lifeline now.

Time drifts as we gather ourselves. My mind churns with ways to escape further into the mountains, maybe find a hidden cave or old ruins where we can hide. Korrin dozes fitfully, still weakened by blood loss. My eyes roam the rocky slopes, alert for any sign of pursuit.We can’t remain here indefinitely.

Midday sun creeps overhead, warming the stones. Korrin manages to stand with my help, though he leans heavily on my shoulder. We begin limping across the valley floor, scanning for a path that might lead to a forested ridge beyond. If we can reach tree cover, we can build a more secure shelter, maybe hunt small game.We must keep moving.Our footprints smear blood across the stones—a trail any decent tracker could follow. Anxiety gnaws at me, fueling each shaky step.

We’ve only covered a few hundred yards when I hear the unmistakable scuff of footsteps behind us, accompanied by a sharp hiss in a language I recognize all too well:dark elves.My pulse skyrockets.No.We turn, hearts hammering. Two elves emerge from behind a boulder, crossbows leveled. My stomach plummets. They’re battered, indicating they might have survived the fortress chaos, searching for us or returning to their own lines.

I glance frantically at Korrin. He’s in no condition to fight. My own powers remain unsteady— I can’t summon a storm at will.But I must protect him.The elves scowl, stepping forward. “Purna,” one growls, face twisted in malice. “And the wingless gargoyle. Perfect. The fortress collapsed around us, but you can’t escape.”

I brace Korrin behind me, heart thudding. If they fire those crossbows, we’re done. But I refuse to surrender. My collar rattles, half-broken. Rage at all they put me through flares hot. “Leave us,” I warn, voice trembling with suppressed fear. “We have nothing you want.”

The second elf bares his teeth, crossbow aimed at Korrin. “Wrong. The bounty on your heads is worth a small fortune.” He sneers. “Not to mention how the clan will pay for your demise. If the Alpha survived, he’d reward us. Or the dark elves can keep you for their own uses.” His eyes flick to me, a lecherous gleam.

Korrin stiffens, trying to stand straighter. “You won’t take her,” he rasps, voice hoarse.He can barely hold his stance.My heart clenches. The elves exchange smirks, seeing how weak he is.

A wave of protective fury floods me.I must act.I can’t conjure a huge storm again, but maybe I can muster enough spark to disrupt their crossbows, buy us time. Silver flickers along my fingertips, responding to my desperation. The elves notice, eyes widening in alarm.

“She’s building magic!” one shouts, raising his crossbow to fire. I fling out my hand. A small arc of silver lightning darts across the rocks, snapping with static. The crossbow malfunctions, the bolt misfiring into the ground with a sharp crack. The elf yelps, stumbling back. The second elf, however, fires his shot at Korrin.

My heart nearly stops. “No!” I scream, tackling Korrin sideways. The bolt whistles past, grazing his bandaged side. Hehisses in pain as I half-collapse with him, my chain clanging on the stones. The elves reload in frantic haste.

I scramble upright, summoning that spark again. My entire body shakes. The collar’s dead runes hamper me less than before, but my magic is still sporadic. Another burst of silver arcs from my palm, striking the second elf’s crossbow. The weapon sparks, forcing him to drop it with a curse. Smoke rises from scorched metal. A surge of relief hits me—I disabled both crossbows.But the elves can still fight with daggers.

Sure enough, they draw short blades, exchanging a glance. One leaps at me with a snarl, the other circles toward Korrin. I brace for a close-quarters fight, terror filling me—my wrists are still raw, and the half-broken collar dangles from my neck. Korrin can barely stand.But we must try.

The first elf’s blade slices at my collarbone. I recoil, managing to block with my chain-laden forearm. Pain lances through me, but I grit my teeth and push back. He’s stronger, trained in close combat, while I only learned scraps from Korrin’s frantic lessons. Yet I recall enough to pivot aside, letting him overextend. With a trembling hand, I release a minor spark of silver force at his side. It’s not much, but enough to make him flinch. I dive forward, slamming my knee into his stomach. He grunts, staggering. My breath ragged, I try to follow up, but my chain tangles my feet.Damn these shackles.