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“I can’t,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I’m not delivering him to you like a sacrifice.”

Drayveth’s shoulders slump, a flicker of true sadness crossing his features—for an instant, I almost believe he regrets this confrontation.

But then his expression steels. “Very well. The coven has issued its mandate. If you won’t obey, if you won’t renounce this gargoyle, then you leave us no choice.

” He lifts his staff, and the necromantic aura crackles around him, swirling greenish-black tendrils into the air.

“By the authority granted to me, I label you a traitor—and a potential Nyxari.”

I tremble, tears burning. A potential Nyxari.

The brand on my wrist aches as though mocking me.

My old nightmares swirl: that I’d somehow walk the same path as Nerezza, that my power would lead me to destruction.

Drayveth is threatening to make that prophecy real in the eyes of the coven.

“You can’t do this,” I plead. “I’m not the enemy. Don’t force me to?—”

He cuts me off, thrusting his staff forward. The energy crackles. “Your actions have chosen your path, Sariah.” He glances at Kaelith with disdain. “If you defend that beast, you side with darkness.”

Kaelith snarls, and I place a hand on his arm, trying to keep him from launching into an unwinnable fight. We’re outnumbered, battered, still reeling from Nerezza’s reappearance. We have to be smart. My mind scrambles for a solution. Can we talk them down?

But Drayveth’s subordinates step into an attack formation, chanting half-remembered incantations that make my skin crawl. I sense necromantic threads weaving around them, building toward a deadly strike. They’re done talking. My pulse thunders.

I grip Kaelith’s forearm, speaking in a low, urgent tone. “We have to run. We can’t fight them head-on.”

His runes blaze with anger. “They’ll chase us,” he growls, though I feel him shift slightly. He’s not suicidal; he knows the odds.

A bolt of necromantic energy arcs from one purna’s staff, sizzling through the air.

Kaelith lurches sideways, pulling me with him, and the bolt slams into a nearby boulder, shattering rock and sending shards flying.

The explosive impact shakes the ground. Terror grips my chest. They mean to kill us if I don’t comply.

“Sariah, kill him,” Drayveth roars over the din. “Or we kill you both.”

“No!” The scream tears from my throat, raw with despair. Painful memories flood me: my earliest lessons under Drayveth, how he once shielded me from harsh coven discipline, how I thought he cared. Now, he’s become a vessel of cruelty. Or maybe he was always this ruthless.

Another purna unleashes a swirl of green flames.

Kaelith counters with a pulse of kinetic force, wings flaring.

The collision throws up a shower of sparks, rattling my teeth.

He moves with fluid power, but we’re pinned on a narrow ledge with no easy escape.

My brand sears under the tension, as if urging me to do something drastic.

But what? Submit? Betray Kaelith? The idea nauseates me. Never.

Adrenaline surges. My staff hums with latent energy.

“Stop!” I shout again, though my voice cracks in the chaos.

I fling a small shield spell, intercepting a dagger of green flame headed for Kaelith’s chest. The collision blinds me momentarily, arcs of white-hot magic dancing at the edge of my vision.

When I blink away the spots, Drayveth stands only a few paces away, staff raised. “You once called me Mentor,” he spits, voice resonating with betrayal. “How far you’ve fallen.”

Tears burn my eyes. “No, you’re the one who turned on me. You condemned me the moment I questioned you.”

His expression is grim, not even a flicker of remorse.

“You brought this on yourself, Sariah. Embrace the coven’s will.

Prove your loyalty by destroying that gargoyle.

If you do, I’ll vouch for you. If not…” He waves a hand, the circle of purna tightening, ready to strike.

“We brand you Nyxari. No one will protect you. The entire coven will hunt you down.”

The words land like daggers in my heart. They’ll label me a monster, the same way they labeled Nerezza. My gaze darts to Kaelith. His eyes lock on mine, molten gold flickering with steady resolve. The tether thrums with an undercurrent of sympathy, anger, and unwavering support. He knows I’m torn.

My old life, or the gargoyle who’s become more than a partner, more even than a friend.

The man I… a swirl of complicated emotion blinds me.

I can’t kill him. I won’t. Something inside me hardens.

I raise my staff, brand flaring. My voice shakes with raw heartbreak, but I speak each syllable clearly: “I refuse. He’s under my protection. If you label me as a Nyxari, so be it.”

Drayveth’s lips press tight, sorrow flickering momentarily. “Then you choose death,” he says softly. “I tried to give you one last chance.”

His subordinates unleash a coordinated barrage of necromantic bolts, swirling green flames, and crackling illusions that distort the air.

My pulse spikes. Kaelith roars, wings sweeping out to shield me from the brunt of the assault.

Stone shards explode around us, rattling my bones.

A chunk of rock nearly clips my shoulder.

I channel the synergy we practiced—both our magics weaving.

The tether flares, letting me sense Kaelith’s raw earth-and-stone energy.

With a trembling chant, I draw on his strength, forging an arcane shield that envelops us.

Vicious necromantic tendrils slither across the translucent barrier, spitting sparks where they clash with my purna wards.

My brand sears like a brand fresh from the forge.

This is pushing me dangerously close to the meltdown that nearly happened last time.

Drayveth’s eyes widen at our combined magic, his staff blazing with dark power in response. “Fools,” he snarls, pumping more energy into the next assault. “You think that synergy can save you? You’ll only accelerate your corruption.”

Kaelith snarls back, sweat beading on his brow. “She’s not the one slaughtering innocents on a whim.” He braces a clawed hand against my back, lending me stability as I maintain the shield. We can’t keep it up for long.

Lightning arcs from two purna staves, fusing into one crackling spear that slams my shield with deafening force. My barrier wavers, hairline fractures rippling across the surface. My breath hitches. It’s too strong. The synergy is powerful, but we’re exhausted and outnumbered.

“We need to break free!” Kaelith yells over the roar of clashing magic.

I nod, sweat burning my eyes. “On my signal.”

He shifts, runes blazing, preparing a kinetic wave.

My entire body thrums with tension, the tether humming at a near-painful pitch.

Drayveth’s allies chant in a furious crescendo, swirling illusions conjuring phantasmal shapes that claw at our shield.

My brand pulses, heartbeat stuttering. I won’t be labeled Nyxari. I won’t let them kill him.

“Now!” I scream, unleashing the shield’s energy outward in a sudden burst. Kaelith simultaneously channels a kinetic blast, the combined forces slamming into our attackers.

There’s a thunderous crash. Several purna are knocked sprawling, spells fizzling mid-air.

Drayveth himself staggers, staff scraping over the rocky ground.

An opening. Kaelith grasps my uninjured arm, pulling me with him.

We dash sideways, diving between two purna who are still reeling from the shock.

One flails at me with a dagger—my staff parries on instinct, and I grunt, twisting away.

My brand twinges with each motion, but adrenaline propels me forward.

Kaelith bashes another purna aside, wings flaring as we sprint for the narrow pass behind them.

“Stop them!” Drayveth roars, regaining his balance, staff sparking ominously. But we’re already past the ring of purna, pounding up the slope. Rocks scatter beneath our feet. My lungs burn.

A necromantic bolt flies past my head, scorching the cliff face.

I flinch, nearly stumbling. Kaelith tightens his grip, practically dragging me along.

My heart slams wildly, tears blurring my vision.

I fought my own family. He’s right—I’m a traitor.

But they threatened to kill Kaelith. How can they expect me to betray him?

Guilt and heartbreak twist like knives in my chest.

We scramble higher, forging a desperate path along the cliff’s edge.

Behind us, I hear the purna regrouping, shouts echoing.

“After them!” Drayveth’s voice reverberates, carrying that old commanding authority I once revered.

Each word feels like a lash against my soul.

I used to love him, respect him, see him as a father figure. Now he hunts me with lethal intent.

A biting wind tears across the ridge, nearly throwing me off balance.

Kaelith’s wings snap open, catching the gust. For an instant, I think he might try to fly us out of here, but the terrain is too narrow, the updraft unpredictable.

He’s still wounded, and I recall how precarious gargoyle flight can be when not at full strength. Too risky.

Instead, we press on, stumbling around a jagged boulder.

The path narrows to a thin ledge overlooking a dizzying drop.

My heart plummets at the sight of the yawning chasm below.

One misstep, and we’re done. Kaelith halts, cursing under his breath.

Dead end. The ledge ends abruptly, the cliff curving away in a sheer fall.

Footsteps ring out behind us. Drayveth and his purna appear, fanning across the path. Trapped. My stomach knots, brand throbbing. Nowhere left to run. Kaelith’s tail lashes, runes flaring with grim resolve. We might have to fight to the death.