Page 27

I won’t let that happen. My jaw sets. We’ll harness this connection carefully, forging a weapon from our shared power without succumbing to madness.

Sariah glances at me, reading something in my expression, her mouth turning up in a faint smile.

I sense she’s also resolved to keep forging forward. We are survivors.

Outside, the landscape is battered. Broken branches and chunks of ice litter the ground, the air pungent with ozone.

The sky remains overcast, but the worst of the storm has indeed passed.

A bleak hush settles over the ravines, as if everything cowers from the aftershock.

We set off, each footstep squelching in the sodden ground. Despite our exhaustion, we push onward.

Every so often, Sariah winces, pressing a hand to her shoulder or her ribs.

I catch glimpses of fresh bruising at her collarbone, bruises that I—at least partly—left behind in the throes of passion.

My chest constricts with guilt, but she never complains.

Instead, she occasionally meets my gaze and offers a small nod, as though to say I’m fine.

The bond hums softly, laced with quiet solidarity.

We walk in near-silence for hours, the drizzle soaking our cloaks, the cold creeping into our bones.

My side bleeds anew, but I grit my teeth.

No choice but to keep going. Eventually, the land slopes downward, leading us to a cluster of pine trees that block the wind.

There, we pause to catch our breath, rummaging for any scraps of edible roots or berries.

The entire time, the memory of that fierce intimacy in the cave lingers like an unspoken phantom between us.

When the thin sun slides behind thick clouds again, we decide to make camp in a hollow beneath the largest pine.

Sariah casts a minor ward around us, her magic flickering in her eyes.

I sense her caution—she’s controlling her power so she doesn’t inadvertently replicate the lethal burst that nearly destroyed us before.

I press a palm to her shoulder in silent encouragement, ignoring the spark that leaps along the tether.

She shivers, not entirely from the cold.

Once our modest camp is arranged, we huddle in the meager dryness.

We have no fresh wood, so we can’t start a fire.

We must rely on body heat and the partial shelter of the pine’s needle-laden branches.

I prop myself against the trunk, wings half-wrapped around me, tail curled by my side.

Sariah settles close, hugging her knees.

The hush that falls is thick with unspoken questions. The tension between us has eased somewhat, but the magnitude of what we’ve done weighs heavily. She lifts her head after a while, exhaling a cloud of white breath. “Kaelith,” she says quietly. “That cave… that storm… everything?—”

I nod, heart pounding. “I know.” My voice emerges calmer than I feel.

She clenches her fists, then relaxes them, as though wrestling with how to frame her thoughts. “I don’t regret it,” she whispers at last. “But I’m terrified of what it means.” Her eyes flick to the brand on her wrist. “We’re supposed to be fighting for our lives, not?—”

“—not forging deeper ties?” I finish softly, watching her expression. “I share that fear. But it happened. We can’t deny it.”

She rests her forehead on her knees, words muffled.

“If Drayveth saw us now, he’d claim this is proof of my corruption.

That I’ve enslaved you, or you’ve ensnared me with gargoyle magic…

or some nonsense about me turning Nyxari.

” Her voice shakes. “But it isn’t like that. I feel… more human than ever.”

A wave of tenderness tugs at me. She is human, for all that the purna consider themselves above normal mortals.

Carefully, I shift closer, hooking a wing around her to shield her from the chill.

She glances up, startled, then sighs, leaning into me.

The weight of her body against mine conjures a gentle ache of longing.

My mind replays the image of her pressed under me in the cave, magic sparking like lightning.

“You’re not corrupted,” I say, voice resonating low.

“If anything, your willingness to question your power proves it. Still… we need to be vigilant.” A pang resonates in my chest. “I lost someone once who thought she could control everything. She surrendered herself to darkness, believing it was strength. I can’t watch that happen again. ”

She reaches for my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine. The small gesture sends a pulse of warmth through the tether. “I won’t become her. I promise.” Her gaze is unwavering. “But I need you… to keep me anchored.”

My throat tightens. The sincerity in her voice, the trust flickering in her eyes—it’s a potent combination, stirring something protective and profound in me. “Then we anchor each other,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “Neither of us can outrun fate alone.”

She nods, eyes glistening. A fragile smile trembles on her lips.

“Together,” she echoes, the word a vow that resonates in the hush.

We share a breath, hearts beating in tandem.

Outside, the drizzle tapers, leaving a faint hush over the pines.

We remain close, letting exhaustion lull us.

Our bond hums with a strange comfort, as though content in the knowledge we’ve taken a step closer to unity—dangerous though it may be.

In that quiet, I sense the aftermath of our intimacy twining around us.

The tether feels more entrenched, like fresh vines that have latched onto deeper roots.

It’s more than mere lust. I know that with a dread-laced certainty.

We cannot walk away from each other easily now.

The knowledge brings both solace and fear.

What if we fail to harness this bond? What if Drayveth is right about purna and gargoyle couplings ending in ruin?

Yet, as Sariah’s eyes drift shut against my shoulder, I steel myself with silent resolve.

We’ll find a way to survive—and if that means forging a new path for purna and gargoyle alike, so be it.

My wings curve protectively around her as we slip into a restless doze, haunted by the echoes of the storm behind us and the uncertain battles ahead.

Yes, we’ve taken a dangerous step, forging an intimacy that transcends simple alliance.

But maybe, in the heart of this savage world, that intimacy is exactly what we need—something worth fighting for, something that can ignite our combined magic without consuming our souls.

And if that means facing the ghosts of our pasts, then I vow to do so, no matter the cost.

We are bound together now, I think, as her slow, steady breaths lull me toward partial sleep. And there’s no turning back.