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Images flood my mind: training with Drayveth as a young acolyte, laughing with fellow novices, the sense of security in belonging.

Then I recall how they turned on me the instant I refused their orders, how they demanded I kill the man who fought at my side.

They condemned me the moment I disobeyed.

My heart beats painfully. And what if Kaelith is truly lost?

I sway, mind spinning. All is lost, the same phrase Kaelith used. But is it truly? A flicker of memory surfaces: the moment we last merged our magic to save his life, the love in his eyes. Could that be false?

Drayveth steps closer, staff pulsing with quiet authority.

“Decide, Sariah. If you remain here, you’ll be alone, easy prey for Nerezza or her brood.

But if you rejoin us, we stand a chance to rebind them all—Nerezza, Kaelith, the entire gargoyle threat—back into stone.

That was the original plan centuries ago, was it not? Seal them away for good.”

My chest constricts with heartbreak. Seal them away?

The memory of Kaelith’s face contorted in pain, pinned in stone for centuries, rakes my thoughts.

Even if he’s left me, I can’t stomach the idea of him trapped in eternal slumber.

No, I can’t do it. But the thought of being alone, labeled Nyxari, hunted at every turn…

I’m so tired, so battered. My brand sears, fueling my swirling emotions.

Tears drip onto the dusty ground. I squeeze my eyes shut, battling the voice urging me to accept Drayveth’s offer and end my torment. Kaelith left you. He left you. It rings in my mind, a savage echo. My fists clench around the staff, nails digging into my palms.

“Sariah,” Drayveth repeats, impatience edging his tone. “Time is short.”

I nearly nod. My mind lurches at the prospect of safety, acceptance.

But a voice—my own voice—whispers: No. You can’t betray Kaelith, even if he betrayed you.

You’re better than that. My tears intensify, a sob ripping through me.

I can’t do it. Because deep down, I don’t believe Kaelith willingly turned on me.

And even if he did, my love for him can’t vanish so easily.

Shuddering, I lift my gaze to meet Drayveth’s. “No,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I can’t help you seal him. I can’t rejoin a coven that demands I murder or imprison someone who saved me repeatedly. Even if Kaelith did leave me… I can’t cast him aside.”

Drayveth’s mouth hardens, and behind him, his subordinates shift with anger. “Then you’re truly lost,” one hisses. “You’d throw your life away for a monster.”

My lips press tight, tears streaming. He’s not a monster. But I can’t form the words. Drayveth lifts his staff, runes flaring. “Then the coven’s edict stands. You’re Nyxari in their eyes. We’ll no longer attempt to spare you if we cross paths again.”

I nod, the brand’s sting intensifying as if it can sense the final break with my old life. My entire body trembles, heart pounding so violently I fear it might burst. “Go, then,” I rasp, stepping back. “Do what you must. I’m done with your demands.”

Drayveth’s brow furrows, a flash of sorrow in his eyes. Maybe he regrets it. But he says nothing more. He turns, motioning for his subordinates to follow. They glare at me with contempt or pity—maybe both—before trudging away.

Within moments, they vanish into the boulders, leaving me truly alone.

My tears redouble, hot and unrelenting. I grip my staff as though it’s the last anchor in a world crumbling around me.

Kaelith is gone, Drayveth has forsaken me, the coven condemns me as Nyxari. Sobs wrack my body, stealing my breath.

For a time, I can’t move. I collapse onto a rock, burying my face in my palms, shoulders shaking with silent grief.

The brand’s ache pulses in irregular surges, as if lamenting the absence of Kaelith’s synergy.

My mind whirls with images: his molten gold eyes flicking to me with fierce devotion, the warmth of his stone-laced body pressed close, our synergy blazing with unstoppable power.

All illusions, if he walked away so easily…

or if Nerezza forced him. The not knowing tears me apart.

Darkness seeps into my thoughts, threatening to devour me.

This is the end. I’ve lost everything. The air feels stifling, every breath laced with heartbreak.

No coven, no gargoyle partner, no allies.

I can’t do this alone. My tears drip onto the rocky ground, leaving tiny damp spots.

The morning sun climbs overhead, mocking me with its golden light.

A new day dawns, but my world feels black.

Seconds or hours pass—I can’t tell. At some point, I sense the cool breeze picking up, a faint reminder that I remain in a hostile mountain pass teeming with gargoyles.

I must move. But despair weighs me down like lead.

Where can I go? If I continue toward Snowfall Glen alone, do I stand a chance of surviving?

If I remain, I’ll starve or be hunted by twisted creatures. Every path leads to ruin.

A faint scuff of rock signals footsteps. My head jerks up, puffy eyes scanning the ledge. For an instant, I think Kaelith has returned, but the figure that appears is too small, too robed in black. My heart sinks. Another purna from Drayveth’s group? Have they returned to kill me?

But no—it’s a single figure, limping slightly, face obscured by a hood. The brand on their wrist is partially visible, though battered. My panic flares. I lurch upright, staff raised, tears still wet on my cheeks. “Stay back,” I snap, voice raw.

The figure lifts empty hands, palm outward.

A weak voice emerges, female, trembling.

“I’m not here to fight. I was left behind by Drayveth’s retinue.

I… I disagree with his verdict about you.

I wanted to see if you needed help.” Her tone is hesitant, as though she half-expects me to blast her with a lethal spell.

I blink, tears drying somewhat. My brand pulses uncomfortably. A purna from the coven who… pities me? My anger roils, but a faint hope stirs. “Why?” I demand, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Drayveth declared me Nyxari.”

She winces, stepping closer. In the strengthening sunlight, I see a tired, worn face, a bruise across her cheek.

“I know. I was with him when you parted ways. But… he left me behind to scout, or maybe to die. I never wanted this. I see how you love your gargoyle, how he fought by your side. I don’t think you’re on the path of Nerezza.

Or if you are, perhaps it’s not set in stone.

” Her mouth twists with uncertainty. “I’m not here to harm you, truly.

I can’t speak for the entire coven, but…

I can offer you supplies, a bit of magic if you need healing. ”

My chest wrenches. A shred of kindness from an unexpected source.

But it’s too late. The idea of rejoining them is impossible, and my heartbreak is too raw to accept pity.

I shake my head, voice trembling. “You can’t fix this,” I whisper.

“My partner—my gargoyle—left. Drayveth demands I seal him. I refuse.” Tears threaten again. “Now I’m alone with no path.”

The woman glances around, as if expecting an ambush.

“You’re never alone if you keep faith in your power,” she murmurs, an echo of old coven teachings.

Then she reaches into her satchel, pulling out a small parcel.

“Dried food, a water canteen, and some bandages. Take them. I can’t do more, or Drayveth will brand me a traitor too. But I won’t let you starve.”

A fresh sob wells in my throat. Why does this unexpected kindness cut deeper than Drayveth’s condemnation? “Thank you,” I manage. My hands shake as I accept the bundle, tears splashing onto the worn cloth. “I… I don’t even know your name.”

She smiles sadly. “Amille. We trained together once or twice, though you might not remember. You were always gifted with wards.”

A faint memory stirs—Amille, a quiet novice in one of my classes. I never paid her much attention. My chest constricts with guilt. “Amille,” I repeat, bowing my head. “Why are you doing this?”

She shrugs, eyes glistening. “Sometimes fear drives us to cruelty, but I can’t watch my coven destroy another innocent.

I hope you find your gargoyle, if that’s truly what you want.

” She steps back, tears in her own eyes.

“Drayveth is determined, though. If he sees you again, he’ll carry out the High Circle’s will. ”

I exhale shakily, cradling the parcel to my chest. “I understand.” My brand throbs, reminding me that each step I take away from the coven solidifies my outcast status. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

She nods, tears shining, then hurries away before either of us can break down further. Her footsteps fade into the rocky distance, leaving me again alone, but this time with a small measure of hope. Not all purna want me dead.

I slump back onto the nearest rock, hugging the bundle of supplies. The dryness in my throat intensifies. My chest still tightens at the thought of Kaelith absent. He left me. Or Nerezza took him. Despair encroaches once more. What do I do now?

Memories swirl: Kaelith’s molten eyes, the synergy we invoked to save each other, the trembling confessions of love. Could that all vanish so swiftly? My brand stings with longing. He can’t truly have betrayed me. He must have believed he was protecting me.

Tears stream again, hot and unrelenting.

Even if he thought it best, the ache of his absence won’t fade.

Drayveth’s offer replays in my mind— help seal both gargoyles —and for a terrible instant, I nearly succumb to the easy path.

Betray Kaelith. Return to the coven. Survive.

But the thought makes me nauseous. I can’t. I love him, even if he left me behind.