Page 13

I nod once, swallowing the jumble of emotions. “Try not to die. We have a curse to break, remember?” My words come out harsher than I want to, as if deflecting the sudden closeness. The memory of her pulse fluttering under my fingers unsettles me.

She slides her wrist from my hand. “Right,” she whispers, averting her gaze as she regains her footing. The tether’s energy gradually settles, but my skin still tingles where we touched.

We continue on, more cautious now. The afternoon wanes, throwing elongated shadows across the mountain ridges.

Eventually, the path dips into a rugged valley filled with irregular stones and a few scraggly evergreens.

I spot what looks like a natural alcove in the rock face ahead.

Approaching warily, we discover a shallow cave about a dozen paces wide, partially protected from the wind by a protruding ledge.

“This should do,” I remark, stepping inside. My voice echoes faintly. The ceiling is high enough that I can stand comfortably without scraping my horns or wings. The stone floor is relatively even, with scattered pebbles and minimal debris.

Sariah examines the entrance, eyes narrowed. “It’s not too deep,” she says, “but it’ll keep us safe from the wind tonight.”

I grunt in agreement, setting down the branches I carried.

It isn’t much, but it’ll last for a small fire.

As twilight creeps in, the temperature drops.

I feel the chill keenly, though gargoyles are more resilient than humans.

Sariah stands near the cave mouth, arms wrapped around herself, eyes scanning the valley.

The wind ruffles her hair, sending a few silver-streaked strands across her face.

I exhale slowly, stepping behind her. “He won’t appear out of nowhere,” I say, referencing Drayveth.

She startles slightly, turning to face me. “You can’t be sure. He’s cunning, and he can track my signature if he’s close enough.”

I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “This valley is broad. We’d spot a group approaching from a distance.

Even if they traveled at night, the noise alone would give them away.

” I hesitate, noticing the tension in her shoulders.

“We’ll keep watch in turns, as before. No point in letting our guard down. ”

She nods, expression strained. “Right. I’ll take first watch this time.” A small flash of determination glints in her eyes.

I regard her for a moment, assessing her endurance. She looks exhausted, but I suspect letting her stand guard might grant her a sense of control. “Fine,” I concede. “But you’ll wake me if anything seems off. No playing hero alone.”

Her lips twist as though she wants to argue, but she just inclines her head.

“Okay.” With that, she crouches near the branches, flicking her fingers.

A tiny spark of purna magic arcs from her hand to the wood, and soon a flicker of flame dances upward.

She watches it intently, perhaps finding solace in the warmth.

I move to the opposite side of the cave, rolling my shoulders to ease the stiffness from the day’s hike.

The runes on my chest pulse faintly, their light subdued in the gathering darkness.

My tail coils restlessly against the stone floor.

Inside me, an unfamiliar knot of tension refuses to dissolve—a mixture of resentment for my broken vow, dread of what Nerezza might be doing, and a vexing awareness of Sariah’s every move.

As the fire crackles softly, she settles in, cloak wrapped around her legs.

Occasionally, her gaze drifts to me, but we don’t speak.

Our uneasy alliance hovers like a fragile bridge between us, built on necessity rather than trust. Eventually, I close my eyes, letting my body slip into a shallow doze.

Stone sleep has always been my means of regeneration, but I can’t fully transform into immobile rock while traveling. Not when threats lurk at every turn.

Time slips by in a haze of flickering firelight and the muffled sigh of wind beyond the cave.

Sariah’s breathing remains steady, occasionally punctuated by a soft intake of breath if a sudden gust rattles the branches.

My senses hover on the edge, alert to any intrusion.

Nothing disturbs the night. Eventually, a gentle touch on my arm rouses me fully.

I snap my eyes open, meeting Sariah’s uncertain gaze.

“Your turn,” she whispers. “I’m… tired.”

I nod, pushing to my feet. The night has deepened, stars glittering in the vast sky beyond. The fire is reduced to glowing embers. “Rest,” I say, my voice low. She looks about to protest, but her exhaustion is evident.

She settles against the cave wall, hugging her cloak, eyes drooping.

Soon, her breathing slips into the slow rhythm of sleep.

Standing beside the dying embers, I quietly feed a few leftover twigs to the coals until they flare once more, casting dancing shadows on the cavern walls.

Then I position myself near the entrance, scanning the valley.

The starlight reveals a rugged expanse of stone, the contours softened by night’s embrace.

A memory resurfaces unbidden: Nerezza, her face illuminated by moonlight, leaning against me after a hard-won battle.

She’d pressed her hand to my chest, feeling the runes etched there, whispering that she’d find a way to end the war once and for all.

I believed her then—believed she was the hope our world needed.

My tail flicks in agitation, banishing the recollection. That dream ended in darkness.

I focus on the present. Sariah’s presence looms behind me, quiet except for her slumbering breaths.

The bond hums at a low frequency, a constant reminder that we share energy, fates entwined whether we like it or not.

Romance is a concept I never thought I’d entertain again, not after what happened.

Yet the spark of attraction that sometimes flares when our eyes meet is undeniable.

I sense her strength, her vulnerability, her stubborn will.

It’s dangerous to dwell on these thoughts, but isolation and forced closeness can warp even the fiercest hearts.

Not again, I warn myself. I must keep my distance.

The last time I allowed a purna into my confidence, it cost me everything.

If that means I must guard my emotions as well as my body, so be it.

The tether complicates matters, but it doesn’t have to dictate them.

We’re reluctant partners, joined for a common cause.

Throughout my watch, the valley remains silent, save for the wind that occasionally moans through rocky fissures.

I periodically pace the cave’s perimeter, resisting the urge to step outside.

The stars overhead seem infinite, a canopy of light that has no regard for our mortal struggles.

A wave of weariness settles over me. I haven’t had true stone sleep since my awakening, and my body craves deeper rest. But the threat of Drayveth—of Nerezza—drives me onward.

As the horizon begins to lighten, heralding the approach of dawn, I finally let out a long breath, stepping back toward the fire.

The embers glow faintly, enough to cast a warm halo over Sariah’s sleeping form.

Her chest rises and falls in soft rhythm.

Strands of her hair spill across her cheek, silver glinting where it catches the weak light.

She looks fragile, yet I know the power that thrums beneath her skin.

She’s a puzzle—a purna who stands defiant of her coven’s rules, who inadvertently unleashed me, who claims she only wanted to survive.

A pang of reluctant admiration tugs at my chest. I push it down. This alliance is forced, not chosen. If we manage to break this bond, we’ll go our separate ways. I can’t afford anything else. Remember Nerezza. The memory churns, stoking my guilt and reminding me how easily trust can be shattered.

When the first rays of dawn stretch into the cave, I crouch beside Sariah and gently shake her shoulder. She stirs, blinking groggily at me. Then, realization floods her expression, and she shifts upright, rubbing a hand over her face. “It’s morning?” she asks, voice hoarse.

“Sun’s rising,” I confirm. “No sign of Drayveth or other threats.”

She breathes in relief, glancing at the cave entrance. “Thank you.” She must notice the fatigue etched in my posture, because she presses her lips together, regret in her eyes. “You should have woken me sooner, so I could take a second shift.”

I shrug. “I’m used to vigilance.”

She stands, shaking out the stiffness in her legs. “You’re not infallible, you know.” Her tone is softer than usual, lacking the edge I’ve grown accustomed to. “We’re in this together.”

I meet her gaze, the bond crackling faintly. “Yes, well. Let’s just say I prefer it that way for now.”

A flicker of confusion crosses her face, but she doesn’t press.

Instead, she lowers her voice. “We’ll need to find better food soon.

If we keep pushing ourselves, we’ll be too weak to face any real danger.

There must be a village or at least a traveling route if we venture far enough down this valley. ”

I consider her words, eyes narrowing. “Humans sometimes form encampments in Prazh,” I say slowly. “Though the dark elves rarely bother colonizing these lands. Maybe we can find such a place, trade for supplies if they’re friendly.”

Her lips twist in a wry smile. “Humans in Prazh aren’t usually friendly to purna—and I doubt they’ll be thrilled with a gargoyle at my side.” She sighs. “But it might still be worth the risk. We need something to sustain us on the trek to Snowfall Glen.”