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My throat tightens with a swirl of gratitude.She’s learning from me, from our desperate lessons in survival.I recall how, once upon a time, she was the captive and I the enforcer. Now, she’s my caretaker, my savior. “Thank you,” I manage, voice husky.

She bows her head, tears slipping. “I’d do anything for you,” she says, quiet but resolute. “You’ve done so much more for me.”

For a moment, I can’t respond. A wave of emotion closes my throat. Instead, I squeeze her hand. We sit in silence, the hush broken by the crackle of flames and the faint drip of water from somewhere deeper in the cave. My body screams with fatigue, but my heart thrums with an unsteady calm.We made it to this moment. That’s enough.

After a while, I shift, ignoring the pain, and gesture at the cave entrance. “I need to see… the outside,” I say, though every muscle protests. “Need fresh air.”

Elyria frowns, worry etched on her face. “Are you sure you’re strong enough?”

My jaw sets. “I won’t go far.” My eyes flick to the shards of daylight creeping across the cave floor. “I just want to feel the sun.”

She nods, pressing her lips together. With great care, she slips her arm around my waist, easing me upright. My vision swims, black spots dancing.I nearly collapse.She holds me, shoulders taut with tension.She’s smaller than me, but her purna strength thrums beneath that fragile frame.

We shuffle toward the entrance. The morning air greets us, crisp and tinged with pine. I inhale slowly, wincing as my battered ribs protest. But the wind’s coolness is a balm to my feverish skin. Elyria helps me settle on a flat rock outside the cave’s mouth. The vantage overlooks a wide swath of foothills that gave birth to our final battle.

My chest clenches at the sight of scattered debris—broken gargoyle armor, the faint outlines of footprints worn into the earth. At some distance, a column of smoke spirals from what might be the fortress region. Or maybe it’s just leftover from campfires. I scan the horizon, half-expecting to see a gargoyle silhouette. None appears.They’re gone.

Elyria stands behind me, resting her hand on my shoulder. A gentle warmth radiates from her touch. “I scouted a bit earlier,” she says softly. “No one remains except the dead. The living fled. The dark elves retreated south, as far as I can tell.”

A shaky sigh escapes me. “So… it’s truly over.”

She moves around to face me, kneeling so our eyes meet. “Yes,” she murmurs, her voice trembling with equal parts relief and sorrow. “We’re free of them, but—” She hesitates, biting her lip. “We can’t go back. Not to the clan, not to the fortress, not even to any human settlement, since they might fear my purna lineage or your gargoyle heritage.”

A heavy silence descends.She’s right.We’re exiles in every sense. I parted ways with my clan in the most final manner possible, murdering the alpha and shedding my wings in the process. She’s a purna witch who singlehandedly decimated a fortress alliance, leaving terror in her wake. We have no place in the old order.The entire world might see us as monstrous.

A pang of grief tugs at me.I once soared among gargoyles, believed in their mission. Now, not only do I have no wings, but I have no clan. She has no human family either. We’re alone.My throat works, tears threatening. Then I meet her gaze, and in her eyes, I see unwavering love. A soft conviction stirs:We have each other. That must suffice.

She takes my hand, pressing it to her chest so I can feel her heartbeat. “We’ll forge our own path,” she says, as though reading my thoughts. “We have nowhere to go but forward. If we must stay hidden in the mountains, we will. If we roam to unknown lands, we’ll face it together.”

The warmth in her eyes humbles me. My heart lurches with gratitude. “Elyria,” I whisper, voice thick. “I’m no longer who I was, but I… I want to live beside you, no matter how that looks. Even if it means wandering these hills forever.”

She bows her head, tears slipping. “I can’t return to human lands,” she murmurs. “They’d fear my magic, possibly hand me back to dark elves. I… I only want you.”

My chest squeezes. The finality of it scalds me with both sadness and relief. We accept it: exiles, forging a life from the ashes. I gather her close, ignoring the pain that flares in my shoulders. Her arms loop around my waist. We stay like that, inhaling each other’s presence, letting the morning sun wash over us.

Eventually, Elyria helps me back inside the cave, mindful that I’m still weak. We settle near the fire, which she stokes with a few branches. The warmth coaxes me out of my trembling. Inotice her eyes flicking to my wing stumps with pained concern.Even with partial healing, the damage is permanent.My flight, my clan identity—gone forever.

She sits across from me, knees drawn up. The chain around her neck rattles faintly, though the collar itself is half-melted. Her expression is haunted. “I keep thinking about what we did,” she says, voice subdued. “About how we destroyed everything they built. Their fortress, their alliances. Guilt… it tugs at me.”

I swallow.I feel it too.Some gargoyles were my kin, trained with me, soared at my side. Now they scatter in shame or fear. “The alpha gave us no choice,” I say, voice rough. “He demanded your death or my unwavering loyalty. We had to stand.”

She nods, tears shining. “I know. But it doesn’t erase the sorrow.” Her gaze drops, slender fingers fidgeting with the broken collar ring. “All those lives lost… not just the alpha.” She sniffles, pressing her lips together. “We can’t undo that, can we?”

I shake my head, chest aching. “We can’t. But maybe we can do better from here on.” My lips tremble with sorrow.I never wanted to slaughter my clan, only to save her from their cruelty.

Her expression softens, tears glistening. “Yes,” she whispers. “We’ll do better.”

Silence wraps us again.We are both weighed by consequences, battered by a war we never asked for.But I sense a faint spark in her, something like hope. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, meeting my eyes with a tentative smile. “At least we have each other,” she says, reaffirming the vow from the ridge.We truly are each other’s refuge.

The day crawls by in a haze of cautious rest. Elyria scrounges for water from a trickle at the cave’s back. I doze on and off, fighting dizziness. She checks my bandages again, reapplying the pale blossoms. Every so often, I drift awake to find her humming softly, or reading a scrap of tattered parchment frommy old kit—remnants of survival notes I carried. A pang of nostalgia hits me:I used to be so certain of my gargoyle training. Now, those notes serve us in exile.

Hours later, I manage to stand without blacking out. Elyria supports me, her slender frame deceptively strong. She suggests we gather more wood or edible plants. “We can’t stay in this cave indefinitely,” she says, brow knitted with worry. “But until you can walk more steadily, it’s safe to linger.”

I nod. “Agreed.” The thought of traveling far right now spikes fresh pain in my stumps, but I also know we can’t remain stationary for weeks. The memory of dark elves or roving gargoyles discovering us mid-healing lingers.At least a few days of rest might be possible.

We venture outside, me leaning on her and an improvised crutch. The sunlight feels too bright, stinging my eyes. Elyria scans the rocky surroundings, lips parted in concentration. “If we climb that slope, we might find pine nuts or small game,” she murmurs.

I recall my gargoyle senses—once sharp enough to spot prey from the sky. A wave of sorrow crashes over me.I can’t hunt from the air.She senses my heartbreak, pressing her forehead to my shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispers, eyes brimming with empathy. “We’ll figure a new way.”