Page 39

KAELITH

T he chill wind biting at my face offers no comfort, but I welcome it anyway, letting the sting anchor me in the present.

I need any reminder that I’m alive, not drowning in ghosts from centuries ago.

The mountains stretch before us in a rough silhouette of jagged peaks and treacherous ravines, dimly lit by the dying embers of sunset.

We’re halfway between daylight and darkness, as if caught in some vast cosmic pause before the night begins in earnest.

Behind me, I hear the faint shuffle of Sariah’s boots on gravel.

The tether thrums in my chest, a muted steady beat that marks her presence, though I refuse to lean into it.

I must keep my distance, I tell myself, for her sake.

Because every time I let her slip close, every time I let the bond flourish, I see echoes of Nerezza’s downfall, an all-too-familiar pattern that might lead Sariah down the same spiral.

I pick my way over a rocky rise, scouting ahead.

The tension in my muscles never eases. Ever since that clash with Drayveth and the arrival of Nerezza’s twisted brood, I’ve been on edge, half-expecting more gargoyles to dive from the sky or more of Drayveth’s purna to ambush us.

My tail flicks in short, agitated arcs, betraying my turmoil.

The air up here is thin, cold, and thrums with leftover arcs of necromantic magic from the recent battle.

No peace. No breathing room. Even the sky feels oppressive, streaked with purples and grays that foretell another storm.

“Sariah,” I murmur over my shoulder. My voice comes out harsher than I intend. “Stay close to the path. The ground’s uneven.”

She says nothing, just nods. But I hear her faint sigh.

The tether relays her bruised emotions—uncertainty, lingering sorrow—and I grit my teeth, trying not to let it seep into my own mind.

I can’t let her see my own guilt and fear.

She’s better off if I maintain a wall, keep her from relying on me too much.

Then, if the worst happens, maybe she’ll have a chance to survive without turning monstrous.

We crest the rise, peering down into a shallow canyon.

The rest of the ragtag group—Drayveth’s purna—follows at a guarded distance, their wariness thick as fog.

It’s a fragile ceasefire, forced by mutual necessity.

Even Drayveth, for all his resentment, can’t deny that the brood has changed everything.

We’re safer together than picking each other off.

Safe is a relative term, though. One misstep, one flicker of suspicion, and everything shatters.

I scan the canyon floor, searching for potential camp spots.

We’ve walked nonstop for hours, needing to put distance between us and the brood’s last known location.

My body screams for rest. But an unrelenting ache in my chest, separate from the tether, reminds me how little rest I truly allow myself.

I’m haunted, plain and simple, by the memory of what Nerezza and I once had, and the utter devastation it became.

“Kaelith,” Sariah says gently. She’s come up beside me, close enough that I catch her scent—subtle, tinged with pine needles and the faint floral undercurrent that always lingers in her clothes. The tether thrums. I force myself not to inhale too deeply, not to indulge in that comfort.

“What?” I respond, wary. I keep my gaze on the terrain below, where a cluster of large boulders forms a semi-enclosed pocket. “We could make camp there,” I say, pointing. “The rocks will shield us from the wind.”

She nods, hugging her arms. The brand on her wrist glimmers in the twilight, taunting me with the danger I sense in her.

Her power. Her potential. The place in my mind that once welcomed partnership now recoils, imagining how easily she could tip into darkness if pressed.

I recall Nerezza’s mocking words: She’s on the same path.

My runes flicker with suppressed agitation.

Wordlessly, we descend. Each step demands focus; the ground slips under my boots.

Sariah stumbles on loose gravel, and without thinking, I reach out, grasping her elbow to steady her.

Our gazes collide—her eyes flicker with gratitude, and for an instant, the tether pulses warm.

This is the closeness that both sustains and damns us.

My heart twists. I release her arm quickly, stepping away.

“Careful,” I mutter, trying to sound impersonal.

She pulls back, shoulders tight with hurt. But she says nothing, only nods and continues downward. My chest aches at the distance I’m putting between us. I’m doing this to protect her, I remind myself. If we grow too close, if we entangle our fates, what if I fail her again?

We reach the boulders. Drayveth and his two subordinates trail behind, breath ragged from exhaustion and tension.

The moment we pause, the purna disperse in a defensive half-circle, staves at the ready, eyes darting warily at me.

I pretend not to care. Let them be suspicious.

I might share a temporary alliance, but I have no reason to want their acceptance.

Sariah finds a level patch of ground sheltered from the worst of the wind.

She places her pack down with a weary sigh.

I sense the swirl of her exhaustion through the tether.

Let me help her, a voice inside me begs.

But I remain silent, forcing myself to keep that emotional distance.

Better if she doesn’t rely on me for comfort.

Because if— when —I fail again, she’ll be better off unentangled.

We set up a small perimeter. Drayveth murmurs about taking turns on watch.

His voice is subdued, no longer laced with the raw hostility of our last confrontation, but the resentment remains.

I can see it in his eyes whenever he glances at me—a flicker of disgust, suspicion, maybe even jealousy.

He senses something more than camaraderie between Sariah and me.

The knowledge tightens my gut. All the more reason to keep my distance, for her safety.

Dusk settles in full, cloaking the canyon in deep blues and grays.

A meager fire crackles at the center of our rocky enclosure, its heat a meager balm against the mounting cold.

Sariah kneels by the flames, her face painted in flickering orange light.

Drayveth lingers on the opposite side, huddled with his subordinates.

I stand a short distance away, leaning against a boulder, arms folded, trying not to let my gaze wander to Sariah.

But I can’t stop it. She’s the only warmth I see in this bleak place.

The group shares a miserable meal of dried rations.

No one speaks much. We’re all too aware that the twisted gargoyles could find us.

Or that the tenuous alliance might crack.

I sense Drayveth’s glare on me, but I ignore it.

Let him scowl. My runes flicker in the dark, an ever-present glow that betrays my tension.

When the last scraps are eaten, Drayveth and his subordinates claim they’ll rest. Sariah offers to take first watch.

I open my mouth to object— she’s exhausted —but I bite back the words.

We’re not alone in this. She doesn’t need me hovering, especially after the distance I’ve maintained.

Drayveth’s people hunker down, weapons at their side.

In minutes, they drift into restless half-sleep.

I remain standing, scanning the dark canyon. The tether pulses softly, alerting me that Sariah lingers nearby. She steps over, voice hushed. “Kaelith,” she says, heartbreak threaded in her tone. “Why won’t you even look at me? Did I do something wrong?”

My jaw clenches. She’s the last person who’s at fault. “No,” I force out, still not meeting her gaze. “I’m just… it’s complicated.”

“Everything about us is complicated,” she murmurs, taking a cautious step closer. The tether hums, beckoning me to turn. But I fight the urge. If I see her face, I might break. “Please, talk to me. Don’t shut me out.”

A raw ache pulses in my chest. I can’t explain the swirl of guilt. “Go rest,” I say, voice harsher than intended. “You’re tired.”

She inhales, frustration coloring her words. “I offered to stand watch, remember? I’m wide awake.” She folds her arms, defiant. “And I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

Tension coils in my muscles. She’s persistent.

Finally, I exhale, forcing myself to glance at her.

The firelight catches the silver strands in her hair, highlighting the brand on her wrist. She’s so alive , so fierce, and that only heightens my dread.

I recall Nerezza’s transformation: how her eyes glowed with that same intensity once, before it warped into something monstrous. Could Sariah meet a similar fate?

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, stepping away from the boulder to a quieter alcove behind it. “Talk, but keep your voice down. The others are trying to rest.” And I can’t bear their scrutiny. Sariah follows me, concern etched in her features.

Once we’re out of earshot, I let out a long breath. The starlight overhead glimmers faintly, the moon partially veiled by clouds. The tether pulses in my chest, reminding me how intimately we share space. I cross my arms, wings shifting behind me in restless agitation.

She waits, letting the silence fill up. Her eyes gleam with unshed tears. “Whatever’s haunting you,” she says quietly, “I want to help. We survived Drayveth’s ultimatum, we survived the brood… but you act like you’d rather face them alone than let me stand by you.” Her voice catches. “Why?”