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Tears shine in her eyes again, though a tender light brightens her smile. “Together,” she agrees, kissing my cheek softly. The synergy hum resonates in the afterglow of victory. My chest feels lighter than it has in centuries, a sense of peace blooming where guilt once festered.

We exit the ruin, stepping onto the rocky slope beyond the fortress gates.

The night sky spreads overhead, a tapestry of brilliant stars and a bright moon.

The air remains cold, but my runes no longer bristle from illusions.

Sariah and I help each other over broken stones, the hush of the wilderness embracing us.

Occasionally, she sways from exhaustion, and I prop her up; sometimes my leg gives out, and she steadies me with a gentle hand.

We share quiet, exhausted laughter at our mutual bruises and scrapes.

When the moon climbs high, we find a small ledge overlooking a dark valley.

A few scraggly pines grow near a rocky overhang, offering minimal shelter.

Sariah and I collapse onto the stony ground, leaning against each other.

I gather enough wood scraps to spark a faint fire, using the last flicker of my gargoyle friction ability, though it feels foreign now.

The meager flames cast dancing shadows on our faces, reflecting the exhaustion etched into every line.

Sariah rests her head on my shoulder, brand calming to a steady glow. “I can’t believe it’s over,” she murmurs. “I was so sure we’d—one of us—would die in that fortress.”

My arm drapes around her waist, pulling her closer. “We nearly did. But your will never faltered, even when illusions hammered us.” My voice softens with reverence. “You saved me from myself more than once.”

She snorts softly, a tired grin ghosting her lips. “Only because you also refused to let me drown in chaos. It was synergy, Kaelith, always synergy.”

A wave of affection floods me. Yes, synergy.

The brand and my dim runes are living proof of that union.

Slowly, my hand shifts to brush a strand of hair from her face, thumb lingering at the corner of her mouth.

She leans into my touch, eyes gleaming with unguarded emotion.

My breath hitches, remembering the frantic lovemaking we shared to save me from mortal wounds, remembering the heartbreak of illusions that parted us.

Now we’re here, raw and exhausted, yet unbroken.

“Sariah,” I say softly, a trembling note in my voice. “We faced so much—betrayals, illusions, condemnation. And still, we stand. I… love you.” The last words come out quieter than a whisper, but the brand sparks all the same.

She shifts, turning fully into my arms. Her fingers curl around the ragged collar of my clothing, drawing me close.

“I love you,” she echoes, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Even if the coven never pardons me, even if Drayveth or others call me Nyxari, I choose you.” She tilts her chin, lips brushing mine in a tender kiss that sears away the lingering ache.

Heat coils through me, not the frantic pulse of a life-or-death synergy but a gentle warmth that resonates in my chest. The brand pulses gently, and though my runes no longer blaze with gargoyle might, a faint shimmer lingers, a testament to the connection we forged.

Sariah deepens the kiss, arms slipping around my shoulders.

I let out a sigh, returning it with equal fervor, relief and passion melding in a sweet, unhurried moment under the moonlit sky.

When we part, foreheads touching, breath mingling, she murmurs, “Wherever we go, we’ll likely face suspicion or fear, but as long as we’re together, we can handle it.”

I nod, a tiny surge of confidence filling the void left by my relinquished gargoyle powers.

“Yes, we handle it. That’s enough.” My heart flutters at the possibility of traveling with her, maybe seeing corners of Protheka where no illusions threaten.

Perhaps forging new alliances or proving to distant enclaves that we’re not the monsters Drayveth claims. The future brims with uncertainty, but in what feels like centuries, I greet it with hope.

She nestles against my chest, the fire crackling softly.

My wings curve around her in a loose embrace—no longer stone-strong, but still capable of holding her gently.

She hums in contentment, brand flickering in a steady rhythm.

How far we’ve come, I reflect, tears pricking my eyes.

She was once an exiled purna, I was a sealed gargoyle.

Now we stand on the threshold of a new dawn, having banished the greatest threat we both feared.

“Tell me we’ll find peace,” she whispers in a shaky voice.

I lower my head, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “We’ll find it,” I vow, “or we’ll make it if we must. We banished Nerezza, and Drayveth might never trust us, but we walk our own path. Together.”

Her arms tighten around my waist, tears of exhaustion shining on her lashes. She nods, letting a quiet sigh escape. “I’m so tired,” she confesses, a watery laugh in her tone. “I could sleep for a year.”

A gentle chuckle rumbles in my chest. “We have a lifetime of rest ahead, hopefully. Let’s rest now, and tomorrow, we’ll plan. Maybe Snowfall Glen or beyond.”

She smiles, eyes fluttering shut, brand’s glow dimming to a soft pulse.

I gather her closer, heart thrumming with a calm sense of triumph.

Nerezza’s final defeat, the forging of a new seal, the synergy that overcame illusions— it all led us here.

A battered, half-collapsed fortress behind us, a flickering campfire to chase away the night.

Even if the world remains uncertain, I hold Sariah in my arms, free from illusions, free from guilt. I’ve never felt such relief.

Night deepens, stars overhead glimmering in an expansive canopy.

The air carries a faint chill, but Sariah’s body warmth and the dying embers of the fire keep us comfortable.

I cradle her as her breathing steadies, a soft serenity settling over her features.

My heart clenches with love so profound it stuns me.

She risked everything—her coven, her future—to stand by me.

I stroke her hair, recalling how mere days ago, illusions shattered our unity. Now, we share a deeper bond, tested by heartbreak and sealed with the defeat of a power that once devoured entire legions. My chest constricts with gratitude. I will never let illusions separate us again.

Dawn eventually creeps over the horizon, shedding pale gold across the stony hills. Sariah stirs in my arms, blinking. I brush a gentle kiss across her brow, wings shifting to let her stretch. We share a quiet smile, exchanging no words because none are needed. We survived.

When she sits up, smoothing her cloak, I notice her brand remains faintly luminous—a symbol of the synergy we’ll always hold. I sense no illusions tugging at my mind, no lingering chaos from Nerezza’s realm. Relief soothes my battered spirit.

Sariah stands, offering me a hand. I accept, hauling myself upright, feeling the residual ache in my limbs. We douse the last coals of our fire, then gaze out at the rocky path below. A fresh day beckons, the crisp air brimming with new possibilities. No illusions weigh us down.

She turns to me, eyes bright with quiet excitement. “Shall we head east?” she asks, voice still husky from sleep. “I recall hearing rumors of a merchant route that leads to Snowfall Glen. We might glean supplies, maybe find allies along the way.”

I nod, tail curling in agreement. “Yes, that sounds right. If the purnas in Snowfall Glen see we banished Nerezza, they might accept us. And if Drayveth tries to twist the story, we’ll present the truth ourselves.”

A grin tugs at her lips, brand sparking in gentle mirth. “We’ll handle it together, then.”

I mirror her smile, heart lighter than it’s been in centuries.

Arm in arm, we set off from our makeshift camp, forging a trail across the boulders.

Each step resonates with confidence. My wings no longer hold stony might, but I walk with a new sense of belonging—Sariah’s synergy fueling my spirit, the brand linking our hearts.

As we descend a rocky slope, she laughs softly at some private thought. I tilt my head in curiosity. “What’s so amusing?”

She wipes a stray tear, half-laughing. “I was just remembering how not so long ago, I thought you were a monstrous gargoyle cursed to kill me, and now… now I can’t imagine facing anything without you.”

Heat blooms in my chest, affection radiating through my once-terrifying runes. “I thought you were a reckless purna dabbling in forbidden magic,” I admit. “Yet here we are, forging the greatest seal Protheka’s ever known, saving each other from illusions. Strange how fate unfolds.”

Her laughter is soft, tinged with relief. “Yes, fate, or maybe defiance. Either way, I’m glad it led us here.” Her cheeks flush, brand flaring gently.

My chest expands with raw joy. “Me too,” I whisper, leaning in to brush a tender kiss over her temple.

She sighs contentedly, pressing close for an instant.

Then we resume walking, forging our path through the winding mountain ridges, each step resonating with the unbreakable bond that overcame illusions and heartbreak.

Time passes in a blur of pine-scented breezes and dusty paths, the ruins of Nerezza’s fortress shrinking behind us.

We speak occasionally about trivial things—where to find fresh water, how to handle the next suspicious traveler.

Yet the deeper conversation remains unspoken: We faced our darkest fears and emerged hand in hand.

There’s no need to rehash every heartbreak.

Our synergy hums, affirming we’re forging ahead, no illusions interfering.