Page 17

Lightning flashes in the distance, illuminating the valley for a heartbeat.

A surge of wind rattles our structure. I press a palm to my chest, feeling my heart race.

For the first time today, I realize how vulnerable we are.

If the storm intensifies, we could be trapped. Kaelith seems equally uneasy.

He steps back inside, crouching near the embers. “Stay close,” he mutters, eyes flicking to me. There’s an unspoken message in his stance— we only have each other to rely on.

Huddling near him, I wrap my cloak tighter, every muscle tense against the biting cold.

Lightning arcs again, a jagged fork across the sky.

Thunder crashes, and the wind howls, sending sleet slashing in sideways.

Our half-formed shelter groans under the assault.

I brace a hand against the wooden slab, praying it holds.

A sudden gust tears at the edges of the rock wall, dislodging a chunk that crashes to the ground behind us.

I scream involuntarily, stumbling backward.

The bond jolts, and Kaelith catches me with a strong arm.

“Easy,” he murmurs, but I hear concern in his tone.

We’re safe for the moment, though the structure is precarious.

Pressing close together, we endure the onslaught of wind and sleet for what feels like hours.

My teeth chatter, and his body radiates warmth that seeps through my soaked cloak.

The tension between us morphs again, overshadowed by survival instinct.

I can’t afford pride or fear. I cling to him, letting his solid presence anchor me against the storm.

Time blurs. The wind’s howl becomes a constant roar in my ears, and the raw cold saps my strength.

My eyelids droop, exhaustion dragging me downward.

Vaguely, I register Kaelith’s rumbling voice, urging me to stay awake, to keep my blood flowing.

My brand itches something fierce, but it’s overshadowed by the numbing cold.

At some point, the storm quiets to a dull moan, leaving behind a world dusted with glistening sleet.

I come to awareness, finding myself half-curled against Kaelith’s broad chest, his wings angled to block the worst of the wind.

Heat creeps up my neck as I realize how intimately we’re positioned, but I’m too drained to pull away.

My breath forms pale clouds in the frigid air.

He senses my stirring and releases me carefully. The bond thrums, as if acknowledging the shift. “It’s nearly dawn,” he says, voice raspy from lack of sleep. “The storm died down a bit.”

I nod, blinking away the remnants of drowsiness.

My limbs ache, but at least I’m alive. Outside, faint light filters through the cracks in our makeshift shelter.

Snow and ice cling to the ground, painting the valley in a uniform white sheen.

Our fire still smolders, an orange glow against the gloom.

“Thank you,” I whisper, clearing my throat. I’m not sure if I’m thanking him for saving me from the falling debris, or for sharing his warmth, or for not leaving me in the cold while he found better shelter. Maybe all of the above.

He looks away, a silent acknowledgment flickering across his features.

Then he stands, stiff from hours spent crouched in the frigid air.

I do the same, my legs protesting with every movement.

Despite the discomfort, I feel a strange sense of closeness to him now.

We survived the storm together, physically pressed against each other in a way that forces me to confront the raw tension thrumming beneath the surface of our forced partnership.

“We should check if anything’s salvageable outside,” he says, stepping gingerly around the slick floor. “And see if the road is still passable.”

I pull my cloak around me, nerves humming. “Right,” I answer. My cheeks still burn at the memory of clinging to him, but I bury my embarrassment beneath practicality. We’re in survival mode, and there’s no room for complicated emotions or fear of what I might be feeling.

Outside, the wind remains a steady breeze, sharp with chill, but nowhere near as violent.

Our surroundings look like a world freshly minted in silver and gray.

Thin ice crackles under my boots, and each breath is a visible puff in the frosty air.

Kaelith sweeps his gaze across the horizon, wings folded tightly.

“At least we can see footprints,” he notes, pointing to a set of half-frozen tracks. Probably ours from the previous evening, but it reaffirms that we’re still on a road. “If the path remains somewhat clear, we can move on.”

I nod, hugging myself to ward off a shiver. “We should. The Glen is still far, and we can’t risk more storms. Not without proper shelter or supplies.”

He grunts in agreement, stepping forward.

I follow, careful not to slip on the icy patches.

The faint crunch of ice underfoot reminds me how fragile this environment can be.

A few paces from our shelter, Kaelith halts abruptly.

He crouches low, examining something in the snow.

My heart catches. Tracks? Or signs of Drayveth?

“What is it?” I ask, creeping closer.

He runs a clawed fingertip along a faint indentation in the snow, then scowls. “It’s older than the storm, but not by much. Looks like someone passed here during the night, maybe just before the weather worsened.” He points to a partial boot print and a swirl, like the hem of a cloak dragging.

Fear slides icy tendrils up my spine. “Drayveth?” My voice wavers.

Kaelith’s jaw flexes. “Possibly. Or other travelers. But these steps circle around, as if they were searching.” He straightens, scanning the landscape. “If it was Drayveth, he’s close. Or was.”

My heart thunders. Anxiety prickles at the base of my neck, and I rub the brand on my wrist reflexively. “We need to move—now.”

He nods, wings shifting restlessly. “Agreed. The faster we put distance between us and whoever left those prints, the better.” A note of protective anger edges his tone.

Seeing him bristle at the thought of Drayveth cornering me kindles an odd sense of reassurance, even as my rational mind warns that this could all end in violence.

We quickly gather what little we have left—hardly anything beyond the clothes on our backs—and set out eastward again.

My shoulders remain tense, expecting an ambush at any moment.

But the valley remains silent, broken only by the hush of wind ruffling icy bushes.

The road is slippery, forcing us to walk slower than we’d like.

Throughout the morning, Kaelith and I exchange terse banter to keep our spirits up.

He teases me about nearly sliding off the mountain path yesterday, while I retort that perhaps his stone sleep made him sluggish in spotting the storm.

It’s lighthearted on the surface, but each jibe carries an undercurrent of vulnerability.

We’re testing the waters of how much trust we can place in each other, prodding at the boundaries of fear and grudging respect.

That interplay grows, small sparks of connection lighting up the gloom.

Once, I slip on a hidden patch of ice. He catches me by the elbow, a smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Again?” he murmurs. I make a face, swatting him lightly and stepping away.

The bond thrums in my ears, leaving me warm despite the bitter cold.

Time passes in this uneasy dance between caution and attraction.

By late afternoon, the terrain starts to shift, leading us through a series of shallow ravines draped in thin ice.

Kaelith picks the route with an unerring sense of direction.

I spot outcroppings that might be remnants of old structures, but they’re too eroded to be sure.

I think of the wards we found earlier, how they hinted at Nerezza’s shadow looming over these lands.

If she’s truly stirring, every clue we stumble upon could be a sign of her influence.

Just as the sun dips low, painting the sky in muted lavender, we round a bend and discover a crumbling stone archway bridging two boulders.

Ancient carvings run along its surface, half-buried in drifting snow.

My chest tightens. Another relic, perhaps from the era of gargoyle dominance or purna wards.

Kaelith moves forward, nearly reverent as he traces the carvings.

I can’t help but notice how his expression tightens.

“What do you see?” I whisper, drawing near.

He points to a section where the stone has collapsed, revealing deeper layers of runes in the arch’s interior.

My breath catches at the design: swirling lines reminiscent of the glyphs in the temple.

Anxiety thrums in my veins. Kaelith’s molten gaze flicks to me.

“I recognize these symbols,” he says, voice low.

“They speak of the Nyxari’s return, how the watchers must remain vigilant until the end of time. ”

My blood runs cold. “So it’s a prophecy about Nerezza?”

He nods, jaw set. “Yes. This structure must have been part of a greater network of wards, maybe even an outpost dedicated to containing her. Which means her influence reached here. If the prophecy was known, the watchers might have tried to hold her back. Clearly, it was never finished or maintained.”

A wave of dread settles over me, made worse by the faint snow drifting from the gray sky. “That means we’re crossing ground once used to keep Nerezza from spreading her corruption.”

His lips press into a thin line. “If we linger, we risk whatever old magic remains—broken wards can be unpredictable, sometimes attracting lesser creatures or illusions.”

My heart pounds. “Right. We should go.” I turn, ready to leave this place and the uneasy sensation prickling my skin. Yet an unspoken question lingers in my mind: What if Nerezza is already using these neglected wards to her advantage? The thought is too horrifying to voice.

We press on, the discovery fueling our urgency.

Kaelith’s posture is taut, riddled with quiet panic.

I sense it in the rigid line of his wings, the clench of his tail.

The brand on my wrist stings anew. My own fear roils.

If she truly rises, none of us are safe: not me, not Kaelith, not any mortal or immortal who stands in her path.

As dusk settles into full night, we find a rocky shelf to make a minimal camp.

We don’t bother with a fire this time, relying on layers of clothing and gargoyle warmth to keep from freezing.

The wind is calmer than before, though the temperature is still punishing.

Huddling close to Kaelith is both necessary and unnerving, the bond singing whenever our bodies make contact.

I can’t deny the comfort in his presence, no matter how reluctant we both are to acknowledge it.

I try to rest, but my mind cycles through old memories—my coven training, Drayveth’s cold eyes when he sentenced me to exile, the temple ruins where I awakened Kaelith.

Now add the looming return of an ancient evil that threatened entire races centuries ago.

My pulse pounds just thinking about it. Despite everything, a spark of hope flickers in me when I recall how Kaelith seemed genuinely concerned about me clinging to him during the storm.

We’re forging something new here, out of necessity but also choice.

Maybe that bond will see us through the trials ahead.

Glancing at Kaelith in the dim moonlight, I find him watching the darkness with unwavering focus.

His wings shift slightly when I move. The synergy between us has deepened, shaped by forced proximity and a flickering sense of trust. My chest tightens with conflicting emotions—terror of Nerezza’s threat, guilt over the broken seal, and an undeniable draw to the hulking gargoyle at my side.

Amid the hush of the winter night, I speak softly, words escaping before I fully plan them. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

He stiffens. “I haven’t decided if it’s for your sake or my own.”

A soft laugh slips from my throat, surprising us both. “Aren’t those the same thing now?”

He turns to me, eyes glinting like molten embers in the faint moonlight. Slowly, he exhales, the tension around his mouth easing. “Yes,” he admits, “maybe they are.”

Something inside me unclenches. We share a moment of silent understanding, gazes locked.

The wind gently nudges the branches overhead, and a few stray flakes of snow drift between us.

In that stillness, with my heart in my throat, I realize the seeds of trust have taken root.

Whether they flourish or wither depends on how we face the dangers ahead—together or divided.

We sink back against the cold stone, wariness draping our every breath.

Yet an undercurrent of warmth lingers, a tenuous thread of connection that defies my fear of the future.

I nestle closer, ignoring the wild flutter in my chest. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t snarl or roll his eyes.

Instead, he adjusts his wing to shield me from the wind’s bite, the bond humming in quiet satisfaction at our nearness.

In the distance, thunder rumbles once more, but faintly.

Snow flutters across the frozen ground like whispered secrets.

We remain alert, listening for any sign of Drayveth’s pursuit or the crackle of unleashed magic.

But for this moment, it’s just us: two exiles navigating a broken world haunted by an ancient evil.

My breath mingles with Kaelith’s, tension gradually giving way to a fragile harmony.

The mark on my wrist twinges, a reminder of everything I’ve lost and the uncertain path before me.

Yet, I feel the stirrings of hope, woven from necessity, fear, and a fledgling trust I never expected to find in the arms of a gargoyle.

We might be fumbling in the dark—both literally and metaphorically—but we’re not doing it alone.

Tomorrow holds fresh challenges, but tonight, a spark of something more than mere survival flickers in the space between our hearts.

And that small, precious glow is enough to keep me from succumbing to the shadows closing in around us.