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Kaelith rumbles softly. “She corrupted many. Now they serve her without question. You’d do well to realize we aren’t your true enemy.”

One of Drayveth’s subordinates glares at Kaelith. “But… you’re—” She falters, glancing at the wreckage above. “Gods, I don’t know. Maybe we all die anyway.” She buries her face in her hands.

I clench my fists. “We need to get out of these mountains. Or at least find cover from the brood. Snowfall Glen is our aim. They might stand a chance. But if you still want to kill Kaelith, we’ll just part ways here.

” My voice wobbles, but I force conviction.

I can’t go back to the coven. That door is slammed shut. They labeled me Nyxari.

Drayveth drags himself upright, leaning heavily on his staff. His face is a mask of turmoil. “You truly believe these purnas will help us?” he asks, surprising me with his uncertainty.

I shrug, tears burning the corners of my eyes.

“Better than wandering aimlessly until Nerezza or her brood picks us off. They might not be allied with our coven, but they despise monstrous threats that devour entire enclaves.” I stare him down.

“Come with us or don’t. But I’m not betraying Kaelith for you. ”

His jaw works as if he wants to protest. The woman behind him shifts uneasily.

Then Drayveth bows his head, voice hollow.

“Perhaps we have no choice. The coven wants your blood, yes, but right now, half our forces are scattered or dead. That brood caught us off guard.” He meets my gaze, shame flickering.

“I can’t even muster the energy to condemn you further. We barely escaped.”

A swirl of conflicting relief and heartbreak courses through me. My mentor, broken and uncertain. I whisper, “Then you’ll let us be?”

He rubs a trembling hand across his face, lines of exhaustion etched in.

“Temporarily,” he says, bitterness lacing his tone.

“Until we see what the purnas propose, or if we can regroup with the coven. If you truly mean to face Nerezza, maybe we can arrange a truce. Or maybe the coven kills us all anyway.” His mouth twists. “I see no easy path.”

Kaelith’s wings shift, a sign of uneasy acceptance. “We can share the trail for now,” he says, voice still thick with distrust. “But if you threaten Sariah again, I’ll end you.” The promise rumbles in his throat like distant thunder.

Drayveth nods stiffly. “If I wanted her dead at all costs, I’d have let the brood tear you both apart.

I…” He trails off, a flash of raw emotion passing over his face.

For an instant, he looks like the mentor I once knew, the man who guided my initial steps in magic.

Then the moment is gone, replaced by a grim warrior who’s lost too many allies.

I exhale, tears slipping down my cheeks. My brand aches, but for the first time, the pain feels overshadowed by the grief of my sundered ties. He was my family, but that’s shattered beyond repair. “All right,” I manage. “We find a safe route down the mountain. Then figure out the next step.”

Drayveth glances at the battered purna flanking him, who nod uncertainly. The woman with a shaved scalp is bruised, blood staining her sleeve, but she scowls. “I still don’t trust the gargoyle,” she mutters.

Kaelith snorts, tail flicking in irritation. I grab his arm in silent request for calm. We’re all battered. No need to escalate.

Together, we limp away from the crumbling ledge, forging a path deeper into the rocky gullies below.

Our progress is slow, every step echoing with tension.

The sun slips lower, painting the sky in muted oranges and pinks.

Shadows lengthen, but we press on until we find a sheltered nook among the boulders where we can at least rest and nurse our wounds.

Silence reigns, broken only by ragged breaths.

A hush of shared exhaustion. Kaelith helps me settle against a slope of rock, while Drayveth’s subordinates huddle at the opposite end, glaring warily at Kaelith.

Drayveth stands a short distance away, staff propped at his side, face lost in thought.

Once upon a time, he’d kneel by my side, check my injuries, talk me through the fear.

Now, the gulf between us is immeasurable.

Darkness creeps across the mountain, and we light a small fire with the scraps we carried.

Kaelith’s wings cast looming shadows on the rock walls, the flicker of flames dancing over his obsidian skin and runes.

Drayveth watches him with a haunted look, as if seeing a ghost. He probably still thinks gargoyles are savage. But we just saved each other’s lives.

Eventually, Drayveth approaches me, face drawn.

I tense, glancing at Kaelith. He shifts, ready to intervene.

But Drayveth lifts a placating hand. “I’m not here to fight,” he says quietly.

Then he kneels, voice so low only I can hear.

“Sariah, I… I was harsh. I threatened to kill you. But you must understand: the coven sees you as a threat. Your raw potential. The taboo with a gargoyle. They fear another Nyxari, like Nerezza. I had to obey their edict.”

My throat constricts, tears pricking. “And you personally? You want me dead too?” My voice is soft, laced with heartbreak.

He exhales, gaze slipping toward the fire.

“I don’t want you dead. I want you safe—from yourself, from that gargoyle, from Nerezza’s corruption.

But I see now, maybe… maybe I was wrong to push so hard.

I don’t know. I only know the coven demands your loyalty, or your blood.

” His eyes flick up. “You saved me from the brood. That means something.”

My heart aches. “You’d still label me Nyxari?” I murmur, tears slipping. “Even after everything?”

He lowers his head, voice heavy. “I have no choice but to report to the High Circle. But you’ve earned a stay of execution, at least. If this Snowfall Glen can provide a solution—some vow that you won’t topple into darkness—maybe the coven can be swayed.

” He scoffs bitterly. “Or maybe Nerezza devours us all first.”

I wrap my arms around myself, brand throbbing. “If the coven tries to force me to kill Kaelith again, I’ll resist. I can’t… I won’t do that. I’d rather be called Nyxari than betray him.”

He studies me for a long moment, reading the naked emotion on my face. “He means that much to you?” Drayveth asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Heat floods my cheeks. I recall nights spent huddled together in the cold, the bond forging an unexpected closeness. The memory of that storm-lashed cave, of his arms around me, flares. “Yes,” I say quietly, not shying away. “He does.”

A flicker of sadness crosses Drayveth’s features. “Then I see how far we’ve drifted,” he murmurs, a note of finality. He stands, staff tapping the ground. “Rest, Sariah. We’ll discuss next steps tomorrow.”

He moves away, returning to his subordinates.

My entire body sags, tears slipping free.

Kaelith appears at my side, silent. I sense his protective aura, the tether’s gentle hum.

Without words, he sits down next to me, close enough that our shoulders brush.

The contact soothes the raw edge in my heart.

After a moment, I lean my head against his arm, tears dampening his worn leathers.

He sets a clawed hand on mine, tension easing.

We stare at the small fire, glowing embers casting dancing lights on the stony ground.

My brand’s ache subsides slightly, replaced by a quiet sorrow for what we’ve lost—and a grim acceptance of the precarious future we face.

“Are you all right?” Kaelith asks eventually, voice hushed. The tether resonates with concern.

“I’m… alive,” I whisper, voice trembling. “He gave me an ultimatum. Kill you or become Nyxari. And now we’re forced into some uneasy truce because we’re all hunted by Nerezza’s brood.” A humorless laugh escapes. “It’s a sick joke, isn’t it?”

His runes flicker softly. “It is,” he concedes, tail curling around his ankles. “I’m sorry you had to face that choice.”

I exhale a shaky breath, turning to meet his eyes. In the firelight, they gleam a warm gold, filled with unspoken compassion. “I couldn’t choose them over you,” I say, throat tight. “I refuse. No matter how they threaten me.”

Something in his expression softens. He moves his hand to gently brush a stray tear from my cheek. The tether thurms with resolve—no matter the cost, we won’t turn on each other. A wave of warmth floods my weary limbs, reminding me there is still a bond stronger than Drayveth’s condemnation.

Behind us, Drayveth and his subordinates converse in hushed tones, too far for me to catch the words.

I sense hostility, but also exhaustion. The brood’s attack shattered their confidence, forcing them to realize Kaelith and I aren’t the only threat.

Perhaps this reprieve will last long enough for us to reach the purnas.

Night drapes the sky, the moon rising in a pale arc over the cliff.

Our small group remains in uneasy proximity, pinned by the knowledge that venturing out in darkness with the brood overhead is suicidal.

We huddle by the fire, each lost in thought.

The tension between Drayveth’s purna and Kaelith remains thick, but no one dares reignite hostilities after barely escaping those twisted gargoyles.

With the night deep, we sleep in shifts.

I doze against the warm bulk of Kaelith’s body, wings half-folded around me, the tether offering a faint comfort.

I’m labeled Nyxari by the coven, a brand of exile and condemnation.

But I also feel a paradoxical sense of liberation: I’ve chosen my path, chosen my loyalty, no matter how dire the consequences.

My heart remains heavy, thinking of those purna who once stood as my friends.

Now they see me as an outcast, tainted by a gargoyle’s influence.

And yet… I can’t regret saving Kaelith. I’d choose him again.

When dawn breaks, pale light washes the stony hollow in shades of gray.

Drayveth stirs, looking haggard. His allies rise, grim-faced.

They eye Kaelith warily, but no one brandishes a weapon.

We share meager rations—silent, tense, but cooperative enough to keep from starving.

The fresh morning chill stings my cheeks as I stand, mind racing.

We must keep moving, before the brood returns.

Or before Drayveth changes his mind about letting me live.

Kaelith exchanges a brief glance with me.

The tether’s current conveys a single unspoken question: Are you ready?

I nod. No other choice. We gather ourselves, bracing for another grueling trek.

Drayveth clears his throat, voice rasping.

“If we travel together, we do so with caution. My subordinates won’t harm you as long as you keep your gargoyle on a tight leash, Sariah. ”

A flicker of anger sparks in Kaelith’s eyes, but I grip his arm in silent restraint. “He’s not on anyone’s leash,” I say, voice sharper than I intend. “But we’ll keep the peace if you do.”

Drayveth’s lips press together, but he doesn’t argue.

He’s out of options. The looming threat of Nerezza’s brood overshadows our personal vendettas.

For now, a fragile truce stands. We set off, forging a tenuous alliance of necessity.

Bad guys close in indeed—except now we’re forced to partner with some of them to survive the bigger evil. My soul aches at the irony.

As we wind down the rocky trail, the day’s light growing stronger, I cast one last look at Drayveth.

Our gazes lock, thick with unspoken pain.

I’m torn between the family I once knew and the gargoyle who’s become more than a reluctant companion.

My heart is shredded. But I remain resolute.

I won’t kill Kaelith. I won’t betray him. If that damns me as Nyxari, so be it.

Better to stand with a gargoyle who has shown me genuine care and respect than a coven that demands I betray my conscience.

The brand throbs, but the sting is less punishing now, overshadowed by the quiet conviction that this path—dangerous though it may be—is mine.

And as Kaelith lopes beside me, vigilantly scanning the sky, I feel the flicker of fragile hope that together, we might forge a future the coven never imagined.

We descend into the next valley, Drayveth’s condemnation echoing in my mind: Kill him or be Nyxari.

I chose the latter. My tears are spent, replaced by a fierce determination.

Come what may—Nerezza, the brood, or the coven’s wrath—I stand by Kaelith.

And in that vow, I find an odd solace, even as danger grows with every step.

The coven’s label burns, but my heart—held in the tether’s gentle thrum—tells me I made the only choice I could live with. For now, that has to be enough.