Page 12

Within minutes, we extinguish the remnants of our fire and set off along the rugged path.

The terrain slopes downward in places, which should bring us closer to the valleys—and, eventually, toward the rumored location of Snowfall Glen.

My memory of Prazh is centuries out of date, but some landmarks haven’t changed.

Craggy peaks remain the same, and the sun traces a familiar path across the sky.

If not for the tether, if not for the threat of a furious ex-mentor trailing us, and if not for the specter of Nerezza looming over my every step, I might even appreciate this trek.

“Kaelith,” Sariah says, an uncertain note in her voice. She walks a pace behind me, careful to match my stride so we don’t strain the bond. “Have you thought about how we’ll approach the Snowfall Glen purnas? If they see a gargoyle marching into their domain?—”

I snort. “They’ll likely try to kill me on sight, yes.

Or chain me in stone. I’m aware. But do we have an alternative?

” I glance over my shoulder, meeting her storm-gray eyes.

That fleeting moment of connection sends a jolt through the bond, stirring an inexplicable warmth in my chest. It sets my teeth on edge.

I tear my gaze away. “We need answers. If that means risking their wrath, so be it.”

She exhales, footsteps grinding over loose gravel. “You’re right. It’s not like I have friendly purna allies to smooth things over. The only people who might help me are the very ones who exiled me.” Her voice trails off, a slight tremor betraying the lingering pain.

A pang of sympathy twists in me. It’s unsettling, how quickly my anger at her role in breaking the seal tangles with something akin to reluctant compassion. Stay focused. I keep my tone impersonal. “We’ll approach with caution. If they show hostility, we retreat.”

Sariah nods, hugging her cloak tighter. The wind picks up, whipping across a narrow pass ahead.

Beyond it lies a broader plateau dotted with rocky spires.

Each step demands careful footing, especially for her smaller stature.

My wings remain partially folded, tails of them flicking with my movements.

I sense her glancing at me occasionally, though she remains silent.

In that quiet, my thoughts drift once more to Nerezza.

I picture her the way she was before everything went dark: luminous white hair, eyes alight with cunning and ambition.

She wasn’t cruel at first. She was bold, brilliant, unafraid of bridging the gap between gargoyles and purna.

We fought side by side against a common threat—dark elves, orcs, even vile creatures conjured by Wildsponts.

For a time, we believed our combined magic could reshape Protheka into a safer realm for both our peoples.

But then the corruption spread within her.

She delved into chaos magic, twisting it to shatter the boundaries of life and death.

She believed she could harness pure void, bending reality to spare my race from extinction.

Instead, she unleashed an abomination that nearly destroyed gargoyle clans, purna covens, and entire stretches of land.

I sealed us both, foolishly unable to raise a hand against her.

Even centuries later, my chest constricts at the memory.

A harsh voice in my mind reminds me: This can happen again. Sariah is also powerful, also purna. If she follows that path ? —

No, I scold myself. They aren’t the same.

Sariah is exiled, despised by her own people.

She lacks the ambition that drove Nerezza to unspeakable lengths.

And yet the potential for darkness lingers in every magic wielder.

I can’t let my guard down. The tether complicates matters further, forging an intimacy I never wanted. I won’t repeat my past mistakes.

“How far did you travel before you found that temple?” I ask abruptly, hoping to distract myself from spiraling thoughts.

Sariah glances at me, brow creased. “I’d been running for weeks, ducking between abandoned settlements and old watchtowers.

Prazh’s terrain isn’t too welcoming, which worked in my favor.

My pursuers didn’t expect me to survive in these mountains for long.

” She gives a mirthless chuckle. “Neither did I, honestly.”

I nod, imagining her stumbling upon the half-buried ruin purely by chance.

Fate has a twisted sense of humor. “The temple was once a gargoyle stronghold, centuries past,” I offer, though my recollection is hazy.

“It might have been converted by purna at some point, or at least partly. The wards you tampered with were a collaboration of sorts—my magic, layering upon old purna glyphs.”

She considers that, stepping carefully over a jutting rock.

“That explains why the incantations seemed half-familiar. I recognized some purna script, but there were entire sections written in runes I couldn’t decipher.

” She sighs. “I wish I’d known what I was touching, but desperation clouds judgment. ”

A flicker of understanding passes through me.

Didn’t I also act out of desperation when I locked myself away with Nerezza?

I keep that thought to myself. The path narrows ahead, forcing us to walk single-file.

My focus shifts to picking a way through loose stones.

The tether hums whenever she lags behind, a subtle pull urging us to remain close.

The hours slip by under the relentless sun.

We cross precarious ridgelines, weave around jagged crags, and descend slopes that threaten to spill us into deep ravines.

Occasionally, we spot a flash of movement far below—maybe wild goats or other hardy creatures adapted to Prazh’s harsh environment.

Each time we see signs of life, Sariah’s eyes light with a flicker of hope.

She’s probably thinking about hunting for food, though I suspect chasing agile goats over cliff faces isn’t the best plan.

Midafternoon finds us pausing near a small stream trickling through a rocky cleft.

We kneel to drink our fill, the icy water a shock to my system.

My thirst barely abates, but it’s refreshing to have any relief from the dryness of the altitude.

Sariah cups her hands, water dripping from her chin as she sips.

She looks up, blinking at me, droplets clinging to her lashes.

“You know, you never told me where gargoyles originated,” she says, as if the question has been gnawing at her.

“I mean, I know the old stories of how your kind and the purna fought vicious battles. But there’s not much in our archives about your creation.

My coven mostly taught that you were a plague conjured by dark elves or something equally ridiculous. ”

I let out a low snort. “That’s nonsense.

Though ironically, gargoyles were once dark elves.

The first generation, at least.” I pause, recalling the moment I realized the truth.

Over time, the knowledge was buried, and gargoyles shaped their own identity.

“A twisted magic turned them into what we are now. But we thrived, spread across different regions. Some remained hidden in the mountains, others in fortress-cities. We believed we were chosen to bring balance.” A bitter note enters my voice.

“The rest of Protheka never quite agreed with that assessment.”

She exhales softly, eyes reflecting a hint of sympathy.

“That explains why your architecture has certain similarities to old elven stonework. Our coven records mentioned that, but we always chalked it up to… well, coincidence.” Her gaze lingers on me, curiosity woven with caution.

“You’re far from the monstrous beasts we pictured. ”

A sardonic grin pulls at my mouth. “We can be monstrous. Many gargoyles treat weaker races with indifference, or worse. We have a vicious reputation for a reason.”

She looks away, perhaps uncertain how to respond. “Still,” she murmurs after a moment, “you don’t seem all that vicious.” The statement carries a hesitant gratitude, as though acknowledging that I haven’t mauled her for her mistakes.

I straighten, ignoring the strange warmth that flickers inside me at her observation.

“Drink up,” I say. “We should keep moving before nightfall.” I move a few steps away, tension crawling up my spine.

The tether vibrates, a subtle reminder that I can’t get too far.

Damn this bond. I remain close enough that she can feel safe, but not so close as to encourage idle chatter.

She rises, brushing water droplets from her lips. “We should find a place to rest soon. Another cave, perhaps?”

I nod curtly. “We’ll search the lower valleys. The terrain should flatten enough for a campsite.”

We set off again. My mind churns with old memories that surge unbidden: Nerezza’s laugh, the swirl of her hair, her voice when she promised she’d save my people.

Guilt gnaws at my gut. If I’d been stronger, if I’d seen the darkness creeping into her heart sooner, could I have stopped it?

Or was I always doomed to lose her? The path we walk now echoes the one I traveled with her, long ago—though that journey ended in heartbreak.

A sudden slip of Sariah’s foot snaps me back to the present.

She yelps, sliding down a short embankment of loose gravel.

Without thinking, I lunge, my arm shooting out to grab her.

My claws clamp around her wrist, preventing a painful tumble.

The tether flares, intensifying for a heartbeat, sending heat rushing through my chest.

“Careful,” I growl, pulling her upright. “You’d break a leg in that ravine.”

She breathes hard, leaning into my grasp for a moment. Her eyes dart to where the ground drops off. If she’d fallen, it might have been a nasty injury. Slowly, she lifts her gaze to meet mine, cheeks flushed. “Thank you,” she says, voice shaky.