Page 51

The wind picks up, rustling dried shrubs in the ravine.

Shudders of grief wrack my shoulders. I grip the staff, letting the brand’s persistent burn anchor me.

This must be my darkest moment: alone, cut off from the man I love, no coven to rely on, hunted as a would-be Nyxari.

My mind circles the hopelessness until a calm, small voice breaks through: He saved you so many times. You can’t abandon him now.

Yes. I sniff, wiping tears on my torn cloak.

Even if Kaelith joined Nerezza or was dragged away, I owe it to him to try.

We planned to reach Snowfall Glen, gather allies.

Maybe I can do that alone, or with new allies, then find a way to free Kaelith from her illusions.

My heart clenches at the idea. It’s insane, suicidal, but better than cowering or betraying him.

“I won’t turn him to stone or kill him,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “I refuse.” The wind howls, as if in agreement. I drag a shaky breath. I might be at my lowest point, but I won’t give up.

My brand pulses, a subdued rhythm matching my battered heartbeat. That synergy remains, a testament to the bond we forged. If Kaelith truly walked away to shield me from illusions, then perhaps I can repay that sacrifice by prying him free from Nerezza’s manipulations. I owe him that.

Steeling myself, I force my trembling legs to stand.

The world spins for a moment, tears still itching my eyes, but I remain upright, heart pounding with a fierce vow.

“I’ll keep going,” I tell the empty ravine.

“Even if he betrayed me, I’ll find him. Even if the coven hunts me, I’ll survive. I am no Nyxari.”

The vow stirs a kernel of strength in my chest, quelling the swirling despair.

Drayveth can label me as he pleases. My path is set: reach Snowfall Glen, gather resources, and if I must, march into Nerezza’s stronghold to tear Kaelith from her illusions.

The thought terrifies me, but it’s better than surrendering to hopelessness.

Better than letting heartbreak consume me.

Clutching Amille’s bundle, I rummage for the water canteen.

My lips are cracked from tears and dehydration.

I gulp the stale water, each swallow a small lifeline.

Then I nibble a piece of dried fruit, forcing my appetite to obey.

My brand throbs less, as if the physical nourishment bolsters my resolve. I’ll need strength for what’s to come.

Once I’ve steadied my breath, I gather my battered cloak around me, staff in hand, and set off down the slope.

The entire mountain range yawns before me, silent witness to my solitary path.

My feet ache, shoulders scream in protest, but I can’t stop.

Kaelith might be in grave danger, or Nerezza’s illusions might have convinced him to remain by her side.

The possibilities swirl, but none of them absolve me from trying to help.

Hours stretch into endless trudging. The sun arcs overhead, beating down on the exposed ridges.

I scale rocky inclines, slip down scree slopes, all the while scanning for twisted gargoyle shapes overhead.

None appear, though the sense of being watched lingers.

My staff grows heavy, my brand scalding.

I keep going. My heartbreak simmers just below the surface, fueling my determination to prove Drayveth wrong.

He thinks me broken or lost. I’m not. Not yet.

As the day wanes, the sky overhead bleeds into gold and pink.

My limbs drag, each step a monumental effort.

My tears have dried, leaving a hollow ache behind my eyes.

Kaelith’s absence gnaws like an open wound.

Yet I cling to the spark of defiance that flared when Drayveth demanded I seal both gargoyles. I can’t. I won’t.

Finally, I reach a broad plateau where the air is cooler, the wind biting.

Pine trees stand scattered, clinging to the rocky soil.

The faint scent of resin comforts me in a way I can’t explain.

Nature’s calm. Searching for shelter, I spot a cluster of boulders forming a partial windbreak.

My knees quake with exhaustion. I must rest.

I limp toward that nook, dropping onto the ground with a weary sigh.

The brand throbs in the hush, a constant reminder that the synergy I once shared is incomplete.

My mind conjures the memory of Kaelith’s molten eyes.

My chest twists with renewed longing and anger.

He left me. Or he was forced. The ambiguity crushes me.

But anger sparks again, fueling a vow not to yield to despair. I’ll find him. One way or another.

Drayveth’s final words echo: We brand you Nyxari. Let them come. If I’m strong enough to stand against Nerezza, perhaps I’m strong enough to face the coven’s condemnation. I’ll be unstoppable if I harness my power responsibly, not letting it tip into chaos.

Night falls swiftly over the mountains, the temperature plunging.

I wrap my cloak tight, teeth chattering.

My body begs for warmth and food, but my meager rations from Amille are nearly spent.

Perhaps I’ll scavenge in the morning. Or perhaps I’ll starve, alone on this path.

The thought sends a pang of bitterness swirling with heartbreak. No. I’ll survive. For Kaelith.

Tears threaten again, but I push them down, inhaling the crisp air.

The brand’s steady ache pulses in time with my heartbeat, a lonely echo.

I wonder if Kaelith still senses it, wherever he is.

My mind conjures a vision of him, trapped in illusions, thinking he’s saving me.

I bury my face in my knees, stifling another sob. I need to be strong.

“Sariah,” I whisper to the empty night, mocking my own name. “You can’t break now. Rest, gather strength, keep going.” It feels pitiful to recite self-assurances, but the alternative is drowning in despair.

Eventually, I manage to doze off, curled in the hollow of rocks, staff clutched to my chest. Dreams assault me: nightmares of Kaelith kneeling before Nerezza, illusions swirling as he proclaims his loyalty to her.

I see him turn to stone willingly, or watch him and Nerezza forging monstrous gargoyles that rampage across the land.

I toss and turn, whimpering, brand throbbing like an infected wound.

At some point, I jolt awake, heart pounding.

The moon is high, silver beams illuminating the rocky clearing.

My tears glisten anew. A dream. But it could be real if I can’t intervene.

My body quakes with cold and sorrow. I bury my face against my folded arms. I’m not sure how much more heartbreak I can take.

Yet in the hush, the faintest shred of defiance remains.

Kaelith saved me from giving up so many times.

This time, it’s my turn. Even if he no longer stands at my side, I cling to the love we shared, trusting it wasn’t a lie.

That love can guide me, a shield against Nerezza’s illusions.

If Drayveth or the coven tries to brand me Nyxari, so am I.

I’d rather stand alone for the right reasons than grovel for false acceptance.

Steadying my breaths, I slide into a restless half-sleep, letting exhaustion claim me.

My heart aches with the knowledge that I’m at my lowest point—abandoned, hunted, unsure if the man I love is enthralled or truly gone.

This must be the darkest night of my soul, a place where despair and fury coil inside me, whispering that all is lost.

But I hold on, nails dug into the rocky ground, because in the swirling gloom, I sense a faint glimmer of hope.

The brand pulses once, reminiscent of the synergy that once saved Kaelith from the brink.

If there’s even a chance of saving him, I’ll do it.

Betrayal or no, heartbreak or no, I won’t replicate Nerezza’s cruelty by abandoning him.

Dawn comes again, fragile and gray. I rise on unsteady legs, blinking away night terrors. My face feels puffy from tears, my limbs heavy from too little rest. The brand’s dull throb matches the slow beat of my pulse. No illusions of comfort. But I can walk, can fight, can move. So I do.

Head high, staff in hand, I press forward along the mountainside, forging my own path.

Each step feels precarious, but the memory of Kaelith’s fierce eyes steadies me.

Perhaps he thinks himself noble for leaving; perhaps he believed I’d be safer with him gone.

I don’t know. But I vow to unravel Nerezza’s illusions and free him, even if it means confronting the darkest corners of my own magic.

Yes, Drayveth’s ultimatum stings—help them seal Kaelith or remain an outcast. I choose outcast. Better than betraying the man who taught me the worth of my own choices. My tears threaten anew, but I swallow them down, forging a new sense of purpose from the shards of heartbreak.

My path is uncertain, overshadowed by the monstrous threat of Nerezza’s brood, and complicated by a coven that hunts me.

But I cling to the single truth that hasn’t shattered: love doesn’t abandon, even if it’s tested.

If I fail, I fail fighting for him. If I succeed, perhaps we can defy every condemnation thrust upon us.

Gritting my teeth, I limp onward, ignoring the ache in my ankles and the dryness of my throat.

Overhead, the sky grows brighter, but I find no comfort in its pale gold glow.

The mountains loom, silent witnesses to my pain, offering no solace.

Yet I walk anyway, determined that no matter how dark my night becomes, I won’t let Nerezza or Drayveth define my fate.

Because even if Kaelith has vanished, my love and loyalty remain.

The brand on my wrist stings in a perpetual reminder that my power can be a force for good—or a stepping stone to chaos.

My heartbreak stands as a shield against despair.

I might be alone, battered, perched on the precipice of destruction, but I’m still Sariah.

I choose my path, not Drayveth’s demands or Nerezza’s illusions.

Step by step, I climb, tears drying on my cheeks, fury and devotion guiding me.

The day stretches on, each moment a testament to my refusal to break.

Darkness envelops my heart, yes, but it does not define me.

I will not betray the gargoyle who risked everything for me.

Even if he betrayed me, I can’t do the same.

And so I press forward, forging my lonely journey, steeling myself for the battles yet to come.

This is my dark night of the soul, but I cling to the faint hope that dawn will follow, and if I must stand alone against both coven and monstrous brood to reclaim Kaelith, then so be it.

I grit my teeth, vow etched in my heart: I will not yield.

Because even in the blackest sorrow, love can become a weapon. And I’m prepared to wield it, no matter the cost.