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We collapse together, limbs tangled, sweat-slicked and spent. Her fingers card through my hair, slow and soothing, as our breathing steadies. Outside, the world still teeters on the edge of ruin—gargoyles roam, the Overlord hunts, and dawn will bring fresh terrors.

But here, in this stolen moment, we are nothing but flesh and need and the fragile hope of tomorrow.

Her lips brush my temple, feather-light. “Stay with me,” she murmurs.

I tighten my arms around her, pressing a kiss to the frantic pulse at her throat. “Yes.”

Eventually, we break apart, foreheads touching, breath unsteady. She closes her eyes, brow furrowed. “I won’t ask you to forget your past,” she whispers, “but please remember you can forge a future beyond it.”

A lump swells in my throat. I kiss her brow in a silent reply, hearts pounding in the stillness. If only this night could last. But I know dawn will bring fresh trials. The gargoyles’ roars echo in my memory, a potent reminder that destiny looms.

Exhaustion drapes us both, so we settle against the cavern wall, huddling close for warmth. Our entwined hands rest in my lap, each of us too drained for further conversation. My eyes flick shut, listening to the slow pulse of her breath.I can’t fight the Overlord alone, nor can she resist the Red Purnas or gargoyles by herself.Maybe together we can hold back the tide.

Sometime in the restless hours, a distant roar once again filters into the cavern, rattling the stone. Elira stirs, illusions flaring with momentary alarm, but we remain pressed together. I cling to her presence, determined not to let fear drive me away. If I do, I’ll slip back into the Overlord’s shadow, a gargoyle puppet with no heart or future.

As the night drags on, my mind drifts. Shadows of old memories swirl—harsh training in Orthani’s citadel, the Overlord’s pitiless gaze. Yet over those images, new recollections layer themselves: Elira’s defiance, her laughter in fleeting moments of calm, the protective way she held me when I was broken.Am I allowed to want more?

Finally, sleep claims me in broken fragments. I dream of soaring winged shapes, their stone hides cracking open to reveal luminous eyes. I see the Overlord’s orb, gleaming with red malevolence. My gargoyle instincts scream at me to destroy everything in sight. But then Elira’s voice resonates in the dream, calling me back from the brink. I cling to that voice like a lifeline.

I wake to a faint gray light seeping through the cavern’s entrance. Elira shifts beside me, arms still around my waist, illusions flickering out as she stirs. My muscles ache, but I draw a shaky breath. The memory of that second gargoyle roar lodges in my mind.The day is here. We must move.

She opens her eyes, offering a small smile. “Morning,” she murmurs, though her tone suggests we’re far from comfort. The bleak set of her features affirms that the gargoyle threat weighs heavily on her soul.

I brush a knuckle over her cheek, voice raspy. “We should get going soon. If the gargoyles truly roam, we can’t remain idle.”

She nods, inhaling to summon her strength. “Let’s find my coven, or at least send a message. If we can muster allies, we might stand a chance at sealing the gargoyles again. Or at least warn the innocent villages in their path.”

I stand, helping her to her feet. A rush of dizziness hits me, but I swallow it back, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side. My eyes linger on her slender form, bruises and exhaustion marking her, yet fierce determination glowing in her gaze.She’s strong enough to challenge entire armies of monstrous spawn, and still, she spares compassion for me.

We gather what meager belongings we have—some ration scraps, a battered cloak. Before we head out, Elira places a hand on my chest, expression solemn. “Vaelin… whatever your blood may be, you’re not alone.”

Her words tighten my throat. I press my palm over hers, a wordless agreement. Then we step into the early light, the world chilled and still damp from the night’s storms. The mountain ridges loom, and the wind carries faint echoes. My gargoyle side tpurnas, sensing distant roars. My jaw clenches.We have to hurry.

Leading her out of the cavern, I scan the horizon. The Overlord’s domain sprawls behind us, shrouded in haze. No sign of immediate pursuit, though I suspect their search parties comb the region. I turn my attention to the rugged terrain ahead—a path that might lead us closer to the Purna coven.

Our new day of travel begins in quiet tension. She occasionally lifts illusions to cloak us, especially when we traverse open slopes. We speak in hushed voices, mindful of watchers. The memory of our intimate closeness lingers in each unspoken moment, forging a bond that unsettles and comforts me all at once.

While we pick our way across a rocky defile, a distant rumble cracks through the sky. At first, I think it’s thunder, but then I realize it echoes from the deep valleys—a guttural roar that makes me anxious. Elira curses, illusions flaring. “They’re truly awake, Vaelin,” she hisses. “Not just one or two. That sounded like multiple gargoyles.”

My gargoyle essence stirs again, a nauseating swirl that leaves me gasping.The Overlord wove that essence into me. If these beasts roam free, will they sense me as kin? Or as prey?The thought makes my stomach knot.

Elira sees my distress. She wraps an arm around me, illusions flickering around our combined forms. We press against a boulder to avoid detection from overhead. The sky is overcast, but I swear I see large shapes flitting at the edge of vision. Could gargoyles fly again after centuries of stone slumber? My blood chills.

“We have to keep moving,” she says firmly. “We’re close to the pass leading to my coven’s territory. If we can reach them, we’ll stand a chance at forming a plan. Possibly alert other allied purnas or any sympathetic humans.”

I nod, reining in my fear. “Lead the way,” I manage, voice tight.

Hour by hour, we push on, weaving through narrow trails and hidden valleys. The tension in my head builds, each distant roar or echo setting my gargoyle side on edge. My mind reels with conflicting impulses: a feral urge to climb the mountains and greet my monstrous kin, and the rational part that recoils in horror. Elira’s presence is the only thing keeping me anchored. Her illusions occasionally ripple across my vision, reminding me of the fragile hope we share.

By late afternoon, we crest a ridge that overlooks a wide valley. She halts abruptly, staring in silent horror. I follow her gaze, breath catching at the sight of massive winged silhouettes moving among the cliffs in the distance. Even from here, I see them loping around a cluster of crumbled ruins, huge forms with stony skin glinting in what remains of sunlight.Real gargoyles.

Elira’s hand tightens on mine. “We’re out of time,” she whispers. “They’ve begun claiming territory, or searching for something. My coven is to the north of this region. If the Red Purnas or the Overlord’s forces clash with gargoyles, it’ll be chaos.”

Fear thrums in my veins. I recall the Overlord’s dogma about controlling all power in Protheka.He’ll attempt to enslave or destroy these gargoyles if they cross his path.Meanwhile, the Red Purnas might try to harness them. The idea of a three-way war makes my gut twist.

Elira stands stiffly, lips pressed. Then, slowly, her eyes flick to mine. “Vaelin,” she says, low and urgent, “I know you’re grappling with your own battles, but I need you. My coven won’t trust you easily, but if we show them we’re united, maybe we can rally a defense that doesn’t rely on bloodshed alone.”

A wave of doubt claws at me. My monstrous half churns, wanting to recoil from the world, but the memory of her unwavering acceptance bolsters me.If I refuse, she’ll face gargoyles, Red Purnas, and the Overlord alone. I can’t allow that.