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We discover a shallow cave on higher ground near the waterfall—less precarious than our battered ridge. A smooth patch of stone forms a natural floor. We gather loose branches, kindling a small fire with some coaxing of my leftover magic. The glow illuminates Korrin’s face, etched in lines of pain, but also a quiet contentment. We sit close, arms entwined, the gentle crackle of flames offsetting the starry silence outside.

His voice breaks the hush: “They’re truly gone. The clan… the dark elves. We ended that war.”

I nod, a tear slipping free. “We did,” I whisper. “The alpha’s cruelty no longer binds them. They might scatter or find new ways to live. We can do the same.” My heart almost stops beating at the memory of winged silhouettes overhead, the savage shrieks that once haunted me. But now, there’s only the murmur of falling water and the flicker of flames.

He leans against me, tears of sorrow and relief glistening. “I never thought I could break free of him,” he admits, voice trembling. “But you… gave me the courage. And I gave up… everything to stand at your side.” His voice trails off, pained at the mention of his wings.I cradle him closer.

“You gave up your old life,” I say gently, kissing his face. “But you gained a new one. With me, if you’ll have it.”

He exhales, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I want nothing else.”

The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across the cave walls. In the flickering light, we share another quiet embrace, lips meeting in a gentle, weary kiss. Our hearts beat together,pulses settling into a slower, calmer rhythm than we’ve known in so long.No hunts tonight.

Eventually, we settle side by side, letting the night’s hush cradle us. My collar jingles faintly, a final echo of the chains that once bound me. Soon, I’ll tear it off entirely. But for now, it’s a reminder that even if I carry scars, I’m free. We both are.We forged our path with blood and flame, but we did it.

I glance at Korrin, who dozes with his head on my shoulder, breath warm against my neck. My chest fills with a fierce wave of love.He can’t fly anymore, but I’ll walk every step with him.The memory of him severing his wings still sends tears brimming, but I let them fall.We’re alive to grieve, to love.

When the morning dawns again, we’ll face the question of where to go, how to survive in a land that might remain hostile. Perhaps we’ll travel beyond these mountains, searching for a land unknown to gargoyle or dark elf. Maybe we’ll carve out a refuge right here, hidden in the wilderness, letting my purna power defend us if needed. The details remain uncertain, but the foundation is clear:We stand by each other.

I wrap the cloak around us both, letting the weariness of battle slip away. The night air is cool, the waterfall’s gentle roar a lullaby. Korrin’s heartbeat slows, matching mine. I kiss the top of his head, inhaling his scent—smoke, sweat, and something purely him.He’s my anchor, I’m his shield.

Outside, the stars wheel overhead, silent witnesses to our final stand. The Alpha is slain, the gargoyles scatter, the dark elves retreat. Korrin’s wings lie severed, but his spirit—our spirit—remains unbroken. My tears glisten in the firelight as I let the calm of well-earned victory wash over me.We overcame everything they threw at us.

A quiet vow takes shape in my mind: We’ll build a life from these ashes, wingless or not, free from collars and commands. The synergy of our love and my magic forms a new pathforward. With that promise echoing in my thoughts, I rest my cheek against his, drifting into a sleep that, for once, holds no nightmares—only the tender warmth of him pressed to my side.

18

KORRIN

My first sensation is the texture of cold stone pressed against my back—unforgiving, with a faint grit that scratches the raw, bandaged stumps where my wings once were. That jolt of pain sends a quiver through me, drawing a ragged gasp from between my teeth. My head feels sluggish, as though I’m emerging from a deep, drugged sleep. Then I catch a swirl of gentle warmth at my side—a small body, a familiar scent.Elyria.

I try to swallow, and my throat burns. My lips part in a rasped exhalation, the first movement in what seems like ages. Darkness presses at the edges of my vision, but there’s enough ambient light flickering from a makeshift fire to let me see the shape of her, perched close to me. “Korrin?” she whispers, voice thick with relief and lingering fear.

My heart stutters.She’s here.I blink, forcing my eyes to adjust. The faint orange glow of a small fire reveals a shallow cave. Rocks frame a narrow entrance, letting in the cool swirl of mountain wind. I try to lift my head, but nausea surges, and I let out a choked groan.

“Shh,” Elyria murmurs, pressing a small cup to my lips. I taste water, cool and slightly metallic from whatever containershe’s scrounged. The liquid soothes my parched throat. “Drink slowly,” she instructs, her voice low yet commanding in its tenderness.

I obey, each swallow stinging. After a few sips, I manage to catch my breath. My stomach flips, but the water stays down. “How long…” I mumble, my words slurred.

She brushes hair from my forehead, her touch feather-light. “You slept through most of yesterday,” she says. “And into the night. It’s nearing dawn again.” Her gaze flicks over my face, tears shining in her eyes. “I was worried you wouldn’t wake.”

A lump forms in my throat.I’ve been unconscious for nearly a full day.My chest seizes with the memory of the last thing I recall: slaying the Alpha, gargoyles scattering, my body giving out from blood loss.But here I am.My heart thuds, a reminder that I’m alive—and that I owe that life to Elyria.

She guides my gaze gently with her hand, her eyes searching mine. “You’re running a fever, but the worst has passed,” she says, voice trembling. “I’ve cleaned your wounds again. The bleeding has mostly stopped. But you’re still… fragile.”

I let out a shaky laugh that dissolves into a cough. My entire torso hurts. “Fragile,” I echo. “A strange fate for a gargoyle who once soared above it all.”

Her expression twists in sympathy. I sense a pang of guilt in her eyes—she blames herself for my shattered wings. But I muster a weak smile, fingers twitching for her hand. She grasps it, pressing it close to her chest. “I told you,” I croak, “I don’t regret anything.”

Tears slip down her cheeks, glistening in the firelight. “I know,” she whispers, voice thick. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wish…” Her gaze flicks to my bandaged stumps, a wave of sorrow roiling behind her eyes.She wishes I hadn’t needed to sacrifice them.

I draw in a slow breath. “We’re alive,” I say, as though reminding us both. “We’re free. That’s enough.” My mind flitsto the memory of the Alpha’s final snarl, how our unstoppable bond cut him down.No more commands, no more clan tyranny.

She exhales a ragged sound that’s half sob, half laugh. “Yes,” she murmurs. “We are.”

Elyria tends the small fire, stirring it with a makeshift poker—a branch stripped of bark. I watch her, half-propped against a rock. Each flicker of the flames paints dancing shadows across the cave walls, revealing the hollows under her eyes and the fresh bruises along her arms. She’s as battered as I am, though she hides it behind gentle determination.

When she finishes adjusting the fire, she kneels back at my side, pressing a damp cloth to my forehead. I flinch at the coolness, but the contact soothes my fever. “I gathered more of those pale blossoms,” she explains softly. “The ones you showed me. I’ve tried to apply them as an antiseptic. I think it’s helping.”