Page 9

Standing, I test the steadiness of my legs.

The fleeting dizziness from earlier has subsided, which means Kaelith is close enough for the tether to remain stable.

He watches me with a keen, cautious expression, as if expecting me to topple again.

I swallow my pride. “I’m fine,” I mutter, brushing ash from my knees.

His stare lingers another heartbeat before he nods. “Then let’s go. The more distance we put between ourselves and Drayveth, the better.”

I can’t argue with that. Gathering my cloak, I do my best to secure it around me.

The wind is brisk up here, though some of the morning sun’s rays take the edge off the mountain chill.

Kaelith’s presence is a living furnace of warmth, which is both comforting and disturbing.

I resent that I notice such a detail. Focus, I chide myself.

We pick our way out of the rocky depression, careful to keep within a few paces of each other.

The tether tugs faintly, an invisible cord that intensifies whenever we move too far apart.

Each time the pull sharpens, I see Kaelith’s jaw tense and feel a matching ache beneath my ribs.

The entire situation is beyond surreal: a purna on the run, tethered to a gargoyle who once loved the deadliest Nyxari in history.

If someone told me this story a week ago, I would’ve laughed them out of the coven.

Yet here we are, forging a precarious alliance.

The path downhill is no safer than before.

Loose rocks slip underfoot, and the mountain’s slope dips steeply in places.

Kaelith is more agile than I’d expect, especially for someone so large.

His wings fold in tight to avoid snagging on jagged outcroppings, and his tail helps him balance.

Even so, the precarious terrain forces us to move slowly.

A single misstep could send us tumbling into a ravine.

The silence between us stretches, weighted by tension.

We pass around a tall rock spire, the wind whistling over it in eerie pitches.

I can’t help but glance at Kaelith, noting the wariness that stiffens his spine.

His head turns fractionally, scanning the horizon.

It’s the posture of a sentinel, someone who expects to be ambushed.

We press on. The day advances, with sunlight creeping higher, illuminating swathes of the mountain range.

The air remains crisp, but the rising temperature melts small patches of snow, creating slick puddles and rivulets trickling down the rocks.

After a time, the path opens onto a wider plateau.

From here, the view is sweeping: harsh plains stretch out like a vast gray-green tapestry, broken by distant clusters of stunted trees and sharp ridges.

Farther off, I glimpse a hazy line of cliffs.

No sign of Drayveth or any other purna, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there.

While I pause to catch my breath, Kaelith sweeps his gaze across the horizon.

His wings twitch, as though longing to spread wide and take flight.

I recall from the old scrolls that gargoyles manipulate the planet’s magnetic fields to fly, combining that ability with their natural winged physiology.

My eyes drift to the cords of muscle running along his shoulders, the wide arc of his wings.

A flicker of unbidden curiosity swirls in me, accompanied by an uncomfortable twinge of fascination.

Stop staring, I scold myself, clearing my throat.

He turns, catching me in the act. A faint sneer tugs at his mouth. “What?” he asks, as though he already assumes I’m passing judgment.

I force a shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Just wondering if you plan to fly us down this mountain. It’d be faster.”

He raises a brow ridge, his intense gaze flicking to my smaller frame. “Carrying you while I fly would be… inefficient.” There’s an edge of dryness in his tone. “And I’m not sure my wings are fully capable after centuries of disuse. If we plummet, the tether ensures we both die.”

A shiver skitters across my skin. I guess that idea’s off the table. “Right. Walking it is.”

We continue, stepping cautiously over loose scree. I sense Kaelith’s annoyance at the slow pace, but we have no other viable path. We slip into a companionable silence of necessity rather than choice. At least he’s not berating me again about Nerezza. I’ll take the win.

With each hour, my legs ache from the unrelenting trek.

Memories drift uninvited: Drayveth’s disapproving stare, the branding iron’s searing heat on my wrist, the look of triumph in his eyes when the coven cast me out.

I fight back a surge of bitterness. If I let that anger consume me, I’ll end up no better than the tyrants I despise.

Focus on moving forward. Surviving is the priority.

At midday—my best guess based on the angle of the sun—we reach a flatter expanse littered with boulders.

The environment remains stark, but at least the slope isn’t so punishing.

Kaelith halts, scanning for signs of a water source or anything we can use for shelter.

A faint breeze rustles my hair, carrying the distant cry of some avian predator.

“We should rest,” he declares, though his voice lacks any warmth. “No sense pushing ourselves to collapse.”

“Agreed,” I say, grateful for the reprieve. The dryness in my throat suggests we’re both running low on energy. We scout around until we find a shallow depression behind a large rock cluster—enough cover to shield us from the wind and prying eyes.

I settle onto a flat stone, massaging my calves.

Kaelith stands a short distance away, gaze constantly roving.

He looks like a coiled spring, ready to pounce at any flicker of movement.

The bond hums faintly, a reminder of our forced closeness.

Too much distance and we’re crippled. Lovely.

I groan, pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead.

He notices, crossing the space between us with quiet steps. “You’re in pain.” It’s not quite a question, but there’s a sliver of concern beneath the gruffness.

“Exhaustion,” I correct, trying not to snap. “I’ve been running for days, and you’re not exactly a gentle traveling companion.”

An exasperated growl leaves him. “I’m not here to coddle you.

But if you collapse, we both suffer.” He tilts his chin in the direction of my cloak.

“We should eat something. There might be small game in these mountains, or perhaps fruit if we find lower altitudes.” He sounds less than thrilled by the prospect of foraging.

Gargoyles, from the stories, prefer meat and are indifferent to foraging. But hunger is hunger.

I nod, rummaging in my cloak’s pocket for the last of the dried rations I grabbed before fleeing. It’s a pitiful handful—some jerked meat and a stale biscuit that’s more crumb than bread. I chew slowly, wincing at how bland it tastes. Kaelith eyes me, probably verifying I’m not about to pass out.

He steps around the large rock formation, scanning the horizon once more.

The midday sun highlights the interplay of obsidian and red-gold in his skin.

Despite my wariness, I can’t deny he’s extraordinary, a testament to gargoyle resilience and raw power.

My gaze flickers over the runes etched into his torso, noticing how they pulse softly, as though in rhythm with his heartbeat.

A subtle glow emanates from the lines, reminiscent of magma hidden beneath the surface.

Focus, Sariah. I push the last crumb into my mouth, ignoring a pang of curiosity about those runes. They must be part of the seal he created to imprison himself with Nerezza. The fact that they remain even after the seal is broken hints at residual power or deep scarring of his own magic.

Eventually, he returns, his expression somber. “No immediate sign of Drayveth,” he reports, “but we can’t be complacent. We should keep moving soon, at least until we find a decent place to set camp for the night.”

“Agreed,” I murmur, rising to my feet. A wave of weariness passes through me, but I grit my teeth. The tether might ensure we don’t stray far, but it doesn’t promise us any relief from endless trekking.

Before I can suggest we continue, Kaelith steps closer, lowering his voice. “I propose we keep watch in turns once evening falls. If Drayveth is tracking you, he could attempt an ambush under darkness.”

“I’ve done it before—kept watch, I mean,” I say quietly. “I’m not helpless.”

He arches what might be a brow. “I’ve noticed you’re not helpless, but exhaustion can make even the strong vulnerable. Last night, you almost?—”

“I was fine,” I interrupt, though we both recall how quickly I drifted off. We were lucky Drayveth didn’t find us. My shoulders slump. “All right, fine. We’ll split watch. We’re apparently joined at the hip anyway.”

A flicker of amusement ghosts across his features, gone so quickly I almost miss it. Then he glances past me, scanning the rocks beyond. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, voice tense once more. “We’ll cover as much ground as we can before sunset.”

We resume our slow journey downward. The rocky terrain gives way to patches of gnarled shrubs, some tough grasses, and the occasional cluster of stunted conifers.

My boots crunch over frost-laced ground, and each step sends a dull ache through my ankles.

I keep expecting Drayveth’s voice to slice the hush, or dark shapes to crest a ridge and block our path, but the afternoon stretches onward without incident.

At one point, we pause by a narrow rivulet of meltwater trickling down a slope.

I kneel, scooping a handful to drink. It’s so cold it stings my throat, but it’s fresh and revives me somewhat.

Kaelith stands watch, scanning the surrounding hillside.

The tether tugs faintly whenever I shift out of range, a subtle reminder we share a link I still don’t fully understand.