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I barely dodge, stumbling sideways. Pain explodes in my left shoulder as the bolt grazes me.

Agony burns through my arm, and I gasp, dropping to one knee.

Drayveth advances, but Kaelith roars across the clearing, shattering the last rogue’s staff.

He wheels around, wings thrusting him forward in a lunge that puts him between me and Drayveth.

“Touch her again,” Kaelith growls, “and I’ll tear your spine out.”

Drayveth snarls, whirling to block Kaelith’s strike. His movements swirl with dark magic, forcing Kaelith to shift to defense. The remaining rogues form up behind Drayveth, battered but not broken. My heart races. We’re outnumbered, and Kaelith is wounded. We need to break free.

Mustering my strength, I rise unsteadily, ignoring the pain in my shoulder.

Lightning flares from one rogue’s dagger, aimed at Kaelith’s flank.

Without thinking, I fling a desperate spell—part shield, part raw energy wave.

It crackles through the air, intercepting the dagger’s strike.

The blast rips across the clearing, swirling with chaotic sparks. Everything erupts in a flash of white.

For a terrifying moment, I lose myself in a surge of raw power that tears across my vision.

It’s not a neat, controlled spell. It’s a torrent of energy, fueled by adrenaline and anger.

The ground shudders, snow flying in every direction.

I hear Kaelith’s shout, then feel the tether yank painfully in my chest. I can’t see anything but white brilliance.

The aura of the blast expands outward, a near-lethal wave that slams into friend and foe alike.

When the flash finally subsides, my vision spots with dancing motes.

I blink rapidly, chest heaving. What have I done?

The clearing is scorched in a rough circle, the snow melted away.

The two remaining rogues lie sprawled, unconscious or close to it.

Drayveth is on one knee, gripping his staff with trembling hands, face twisted in shock.

Kaelith stands a few paces from me, braced on one arm, eyes wide.

He looks rattled, as if he barely weathered the explosion.

My knees threaten to buckle. The force of that blast lingers in my bones, a raw, lethal power I didn’t know I possessed. “K-Kaelith?” I whisper, voice shaking.

He staggers up, runes on his chest flickering. A cut bleeds along his temple, and his left forearm is scorched. But he’s alive. “Sariah,” he manages, tone hushed. “Are you…?”

I nod weakly, though my shoulder blazes with agony.

Beyond us, Drayveth’s eyes lock on me, a mixture of fear and rage contorting his face.

“You see?” he rasps. “She’s a walking catastrophe.

She’ll become a Nyxari for sure.” Blood trickles from his brow.

Even so, he tries to stand, dark magic swirling in his hand.

Kaelith lunges forward before Drayveth can release another spell, knocking him to the ground with brutal force.

Drayveth’s staff cracks against a rock, splintering.

The old purna curses, clutching at Kaelith’s wrist. For a moment, it looks like Kaelith might strike a killing blow. I gasp, chest tightening.

“No!” I croak. “Don’t—please, just… let’s get out of here.” My voice shakes. For all my anger at Drayveth, the horror of unleashing that near-lethal blast still buzzes in my skull. I don’t want more blood on my hands.

Kaelith hesitates, snarling at Drayveth. Then he wrenches free, turning to me. “Come on.” The tether pulses with urgent energy. The other rogues remain down or dazed, not a threat. Drayveth is incapacitated for the moment, though the hatred in his eyes burns into my soul. I cringe under that glare.

We scramble to the edge of the clearing, stumbling over charred branches and melted snow.

My shoulder throbs, vision spinning. Kaelith loops an arm around me, half-supporting me as we flee.

A roar of anger echoes behind us, but we vanish into the thick stand of trees, forging a path deeper into the forest. My entire body trembles with shock, the brand on my wrist blazing with residual magic. I can barely keep up.

Somehow, we make it out of earshot, weaving between frost-laden pines until we find a hollow beneath a low cliff.

Kaelith helps me crouch, chest heaving. My mouth is dry.

A swirl of conflicting emotions tangles in my mind: relief that we escaped, terror at the power I unleashed, guilt that I used it so recklessly.

My arms shake as I try to catch my breath.

Kaelith kneels beside me, inspecting my wounded shoulder. “You’re bleeding,” he mutters. He pulls aside the tear in my cloak, revealing an angry burn where Drayveth’s magic grazed me. My vision flashes with pain, and I clench my jaw to stifle a cry.

I look up, noticing the cut on Kaelith’s temple again. Blood smears the side of his face, a stark contrast against his onyx skin. “You’re hurt too,” I manage, voice ragged.

He exhales. “I’ll heal. Gargoyles regenerate slowly unless we stone-sleep, but I’ll survive.” His molten gaze flicks to my arm. “You, on the other hand, need tending immediately.”

I nod, tears threatening. My adrenaline fades, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest. “I… I almost lost control,” I whisper, voice trembling with the admission. “I could’ve killed us both with that blast.”

He hesitates, meeting my eyes. A shadow crosses his expression.

“I felt it through the tether,” he admits quietly.

“For a moment, it was… unstoppable.” He drags a clawed hand through his hair, tension radiating from him.

“If I hadn’t shielded us at the last second—” He stops, shaking his head.

“It’s done now. Let’s handle your wound. ”

I clench my teeth, tears burning my eyes. Unstoppable. The word resonates in my skull. Is this how Nerezza started, harnessing too much power in desperation? Fear knots my stomach. “Okay,” I mumble, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

With surprising gentleness, Kaelith tears a strip from his own cloak, pressing it to my shoulder to staunch the bleeding.

I hiss at the searing pain. The mark on my wrist pulses, reminding me of the cost of purna magic.

My lips quiver, a surge of guilt and despair welling up.

I try to swallow it down, but the tears slip free anyway.

He notices my trembling. “Easy,” he murmurs, voice softening in a way that tightens my chest. “We’re alive.

That’s what matters now. Here—let me see if I can brace this better.

” He pulls me closer, positioning himself behind me so he can wrap the makeshift bandage around my arm and across my shoulder.

His breath grazes my ear, warm against the chill air.

I shudder, overwhelmed by the swirl of shame, pain, and something else—an undeniable awareness of him pressed against my back.

My heart thrums. The tether pulses. In the silence of the forest, with only the sigh of wind and our ragged breaths, I can’t ignore the heat radiating from his body.

He’s so large, so solid, and the memory of that lethal magic blast lingers in my mind.

He finishes tying off the bandage, his arms momentarily circling me.

I exhale a shaky breath. My face burns with tears and confusion.

Why does this closeness feel so… comforting?

I have the impulse to jerk away, to bury my face in my arm and scream at my foolishness.

But I remain still, too exhausted and wounded to fight the wave of conflicting emotion.

“You’re all right,” he murmurs, half to me, half to himself. His voice holds a note of relief. “The bleeding’s slowed.”

I twist slightly, looking at him over my shoulder.

His eyes flick to my tear-streaked cheeks.

Something in his expression softens further.

The hush wraps around us, broken by the distant rustle of branches.

My brand’s throb eases, replaced by a different pounding—my pulse in my ears, spurred by the realization that we’re sitting so close.

My injuries, my guilt, the fear of Drayveth… all coalesce into a raw vulnerability.

“Kaelith,” I whisper, voice catching. “Thank you.”

His molten gaze flicks to my lips, then to my eyes. “You don’t need to thank me,” he says gruffly. “We’re… in this together.” A quiet quake of tension sparks between us, charging the air like a static field. I feel it in the tether, an upsurge of heat that brings my senses into sharp focus.

Before I can overthink it, I reach up with my good arm, brushing my fingers over the injury on his temple. He flinches slightly, but doesn’t pull away. Blood mats his hair, and I gently wipe it aside. Our breath mingles in the cold. My heart pounds so loudly I swear he can hear it.

The silence stretches, each second weighted with the swirling of unspoken feelings—relief, gratitude, lingering terror, and an undeniable draw.

My pulse throbs. With a trembling inhale, I lean in, letting my forehead rest against his, careful not to aggravate his wound.

It’s such a small gesture, yet intensely intimate.

A low rumble vibrates in his chest, maybe uncertainty or acceptance.

My lashes lower, tears slipping free again, but for a different reason.

We’re alive. We’re surviving. Maybe that’s enough.

Kaelith’s breath hitches. One of his hands lifts, gently cupping the side of my face.

My skin tingles under his touch, the heat from his palm a stark contrast to the chill that’s seeped into my bones.