Page 18

KAELITH

I inhale the crisp morning air, forcing it to steady the agitation coursing through my veins.

Snow clings stubbornly to the surrounding hills, a pale hush blanketing the earth.

Above, the sun fights to pierce a curtain of gray clouds, casting a weak, silvery light over the valley where we’ve made camp.

Sariah stands a few paces away, rolling her shoulders in a series of stretches.

Even from this distance, I sense her restless energy.

Our bond hums between us, like a gently vibrating wire tethered around both of our hearts.

I scowl at the sensation, though I should be used to it by now.

This forced link. This mortal’s magic entwined with mine.

My wings twitch with irritation, but necessity demands I adapt.

She frowns as she catches me staring. “What?” she asks, as if bracing for another argument.

I exhale, letting the cool air burn down my throat.

We have to do this. We have to harness her purna power so it won’t catch us by surprise in a true fight.

More importantly, she must learn that magic alone won’t save her from the terrors lurking in these mountains—or from Drayveth, if he ever shows his face.

My methods might be harsh, but that’s all I know.

“We’re training this morning,” I say, voice gruffer than I intend.

Her brows shoot up. “Training?”

I fold my arms across my chest, ignoring the part of me that notices how the wind teases her hair, that single silver streak framing her face. “You heard me. No more stumbling around with half-formed spells. You nearly got us killed back at the temple when you lost control?—”

Her posture stiffens, shoulders squaring. “I was desperate?—”

“I’m not blaming you,” I interrupt, though my tone suggests otherwise. “But if we’re to stay alive, you need more control. We’re tethered, remember? When you flare up with raw power, it affects me too. I won’t have you unleashing a surge at the wrong moment.”

Her storm-gray eyes flash. “Don’t act like I’m the only liability here. You keep hurling us into danger with your rigid?—”

“Enough,” I growl, cutting her off. A brief pulse of guilt follows.

We’ve done enough snapping at each other these past days.

“Look,” I continue more calmly, “this is for both our sakes. If you push your magic beyond your limits, the bond could destabilize, or you might draw attention to us. If Nerezza is stirring, we need subtlety, not explosions.”

She exhales, arms dropping to her sides. “Fine,” she says tersely, as if conceding a reluctant truce. “We train. So where do we start?”

A faint smirk tugs at my mouth. Good question.

My approach to teaching is rooted in gargoyle tradition, which values rigorous physical tests alongside magical discipline.

With Nerezza, we sparred often— No, I refuse to think about her right now.

Instead, I step closer to Sariah, letting the bond’s subtle warmth seep into the distance between us.

“We start with the basics,” I say, voice low.

She bristles at the implied insult. “Basics? I was a purna acolyte for years. I know how to shape energy.”

I cock my head, meeting her gaze. “Then prove it.” There’s a spark of challenge in my tone. “We’ll clear a space over there.” I gesture to a relatively flat patch of snow-dusted ground. It’s hemmed in by tall, jagged boulders that provide some measure of privacy, shielding us from any roving eyes.

She huffs, but I notice a flicker of excitement passing over her features. She wants this. Good. It will help her hone that raw potential. And maybe it’ll relieve the tension building between us since that stormy night we spent pressed together for warmth.

We move to the makeshift arena. I shrug off the thin cloak I’ve been wearing, stretching my wings to their full span. The cold gnaws at my skin, but gargoyle resilience keeps me functional, even in punishing conditions. Sariah pulls her hood tighter, though a determined light sparks in her eyes.

“All right,” I say, stamping one massive foot in the snow to test the solidity of the ground. “Show me how you conjure a simple energy shield.”

She lifts her chin, mouth set in a defiant line. “That’s… elementary.”

“And that’s the point,” I counter. “Demonstrate. Let me see your control.”

She sighs, raising both hands. Closing her eyes, she begins to mutter an incantation under her breath.

Her voice slips into an old purna dialect—one I’ve heard centuries ago but only partially remember.

As she chants, a bluish gleam radiates from her palms, forming a translucent barrier just in front of her.

The air crackles with magic, stirring my senses. She’s more powerful than she admits.

I wait, letting the shield shimmer for a few heartbeats.

Then, without warning, I lash out with a controlled burst of my own power—a wave of kinetic force, a gargoyle technique that vibrates in my runes.

It’s not enough to hurt her, but it slams into the barrier with a resounding crack.

Blue arcs of energy spark, and Sariah staggers back two steps. Her shield wavers but holds.

Her eyes snap open. “What the?—?”

I fold my arms, wings partially flared. “I needed to test how stable it was. You did well to maintain it.”

She scowls. “A little warning might’ve been nice.”

“You think your enemies will warn you before they strike?” My retort is harsh but I refuse to soften. “You’re alive because your shield stayed intact. Next time, brace your stance better. You nearly fell over.”

She steps toward me, jabbing a finger in my direction. “If you want me to trust you, Kaelith, at least give me a sign before you?—”

I lift a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Enough talk. Try again.”

Annoyance flames in her eyes, but she grudgingly complies. She re-forms the shield, this time planting her feet more solidly, crouching slightly. I circle around her, letting the bond feed me hints of her tension. She’s braced for another attack.

Good. I propel another bolt of kinetic energy. It hits her shield from the side. This time, she absorbs the impact, a faint snarl on her lips. The shield ripples, a swirl of blue and silver, then stabilizes. Snow kicks up around her ankles.

Her grin is triumphant, a flash of pride. “See? I can learn.”

“Yes,” I concede, letting a trace of approval slip into my voice. “Better.”

The bond hums with her satisfaction, a pleasing warmth that seeps into my chest. Damn. I step back, trying to ignore the subtle thrumming. “Now let’s see if you can maintain that shield while casting something else at the same time.”

Her confidence falters. “Multitasking spells?”

I raise a brow. “In a real fight, do you think your enemies will politely wait while you protect yourself? You need to strike back or create multiple defenses. That’s what I mean by control.”

She exhales sharply, shifting from foot to foot. “Fine. I’ll try.” Her gaze hardens with resolve.

Again, she lifts her arms, summoning the bluish barrier around her.

The swirl of magic sends a prickling sensation through the tether, as if Sariah’s power resonates in my own bloodstream.

She closes her eyes, brow furrowing with concentration.

A faint glow appears near her left palm, tendrils of energy coalescing.

My keen senses pick up the hum of gathering arcane currents—she’s forging a secondary spell.

A small sphere of shimmering light forms just outside her barrier, flickering uncertainly. I watch, enthralled despite myself. The sphere hovers, pulsing with raw force. Potential. If harnessed, it could become a projectile, a means of both defense and offense.

That’s when she wavers. The shield quivers, and the orb flickers. She clenches her teeth, obviously struggling to maintain both spells simultaneously. Another moment, and the orb fizzles out with a crack of static. Her shield collapses, leaving her panting.

She lets out a groan of frustration, bracing her hands on her knees. “I—I almost had it.” Fatigue laces her voice.

I suppress a sigh. My own chest tightens with the memory of a purna who once juggled spells so effortlessly she seemed invincible. But that path led to horrors. “Focus,” I say quietly. “Don’t overreach yet. Start smaller.”

Her gaze snaps up, irritation plain on her face. “I’m not?—”

“You are,” I insist. “You’re channeling too much at once. Try again with half the power on your shield.”

She presses her lips together, standing upright.

Snow swirls around her boots as she re-centers.

“All right. One more time.” This time, her shield appears thinner, a paler shade of blue.

She breathes through the incantation, calmer, more controlled.

Then she conjures the orb again, steadily feeding it energy.

My runes tingle with the sense of her magic weaving multiple threads at once.

I nod to myself. This is better. The orb stabilizes, floating in front of her.

I circle her slowly, letting the tension build.

Then I fling another pulse of force. The orb trembles under the assault, but Sariah’s shield remains up, though barely.

Sparks dance across its surface. She grits her teeth, extending her left hand to direct the orb.

It flares bright, then streaks toward me.

Surprised, I tense. She’s sending a direct attack—a small bolt of condensed arcane force.

I half-smile. Good. With a swift motion, I unfurl my wings and summon my gargoyle barrier—similar to harnessing the earth’s resonance.

The orb hits my invisible shield, bursting into a harmless shower of sparks.

Her shield collapses as her energy falters, and she staggers back, exhausted.

She’s breathing hard, but her eyes sparkle with triumph. “I did it,” she gasps.

A reluctant grin tugs at my lips. “You did. Not bad.”

She shoots me a challenging look. “Not bad? That was?—”