Page 23

I study his face, the tightness around his eyes.

Beneath the brutality and lethal grace, I see a man warring with old programming, with guilt so heavy it weighs every step he takes.

“You’re not the only one with burdens,” I say gently.

“I’m terrified of my own bloodline, of what I might become if that magic awakens.

But pushing me away only makes it worse. ”

He nods slowly, tension easing from his posture. “You’re right. I— I don’t know how to be anything but an executioner. Every day, I expect I’ll fail you, that I’ll slip back into that mindless killer.”

A pang of sorrow hits me. I reach out, curling my hand over his stone-like fingers. “You won’t,” I murmur. “You’ve come too far. And… I can’t do this alone, either. We face the same threat, from different angles.”

The confession settles between us, raw and honest. His large hand closes around mine, claws retracted.

For once, the chain doesn’t feel like a barrier but a quiet testament to how far we’ve come.

We’ve both been molded by forces we never chose—his gargoyle creation, my purna heritage.

Perhaps that understanding binds us together more than any collar or oath.

We sit in reflective silence for a time, the fire crackling softly in the confines of the alcove.

Rain intensifies, drumming a steady rhythm on the rocky overhang.

My heart still flutters with leftover anger, but it mingles with compassion and relief that he’s finally opened up.

I sense a fragile bridge forming between us, the first real chance at understanding.

Korrin stirs, sliding closer to the fire. His gaze dips to our joined hands. I see emotion churning in those golden eyes—fear, longing, a flicker of hope. My own chest feels too tight, heavy with all the unspoken feelings between us.

“Elyria,” he murmurs. My name in his deep voice sends a ripple through my core. “Thank you for… for pushing me to speak. If we’re to survive, I can’t keep hiding from you.”

I swallow. “I want that—no more secrets.” My voice comes out husky. “And if we can help each other bear our… curses, maybe we’ll both find a way through this.”

His lips press into a thin line, as though holding back a flood of words.

Instead of talking, he shifts to face me fully, wings partially unfurled for balance.

The air between us crackles with tension, different from the fights or the silent resentments.

Something deeper. My pulse quickens as I recall our last encounter.

“Korrin…” I begin, not entirely sure what I’m asking for, but wanting more than just reassurance.

He tilts his head, a question in his eyes. Then, almost tentative, he lifts his free hand to graze my jawline. His claws remain curled inward, gentle. My breath stutters at the contact, at the tenderness in his gaze. I see anguish there, yes, but also a fierce devotion that makes me tremble.

I lean in on instinct, letting my cheek press against his palm. The warmth of his skin steadies me. My eyes flutter shut. In the hush of rain, I can hear his breath catch, feel the subtle hitch in his chest. When he shifts closer, I part my lips in a silent invitation, heart pounding.

A moment later, our mouths brush in a tentative kiss.

It’s softer than before, laced with the swirling emotions we’ve kept locked away—an apology, a confession, a promise.

I exhale shakily, sliding my hand up his arm to his shoulder.

The collar chain clinks, reminding me of all that still binds us, but for once, I can bear it.

His lips linger on mine, moving slowly, as if savoring each second.

I taste the salt of rain on his skin, smell the faint scent of smoke and damp stone.

A quiver of longing pulses through me. He groans softly, pressing closer, and my body warms despite the chill.

We pull apart briefly for air, our gazes colliding.

His eyes burn with hunger and tenderness.

“You should go to sleep soon, rest. We still have a long way to go. I’m sure you’re tired,” he says, gazing into my eyes and making my heart race. There’s so much tenderness in them that it makes me want to cry. I turn away, composing my emotions.

“Yes, I think I’ll go to sleep now,” I reply softly, and prepare my makeshift bed. I close my eyes, trying to sleep but I can’t forget the kiss. Its sweetness lingers in my mind until sleep overtakes me. I just hope tomorrow is a better day.

I wake to a softer drizzle at the entrance of our refuge, the sky tinged a somber gray.

My body aches in pleasant ways, though my ankle complains about the day’s travel.

Korrin still sleeps, wings tucked around me possessively, as if shielding me even in slumber.

My cheeks warm at the memory of the night’s intimacy, how it felt to finally share a piece of our burdens.

Careful not to disturb him too much, I shift, pressing a light kiss to his temple.

He stirs with a low rumble, eyes fluttering open.

For a heartbeat, his expression is unguarded—soft, almost content.

Then I see the flicker of reality returning, tension edging back into his gaze.

But there’s also gratitude, perhaps even a gentle acceptance, for what we have.

He sits up, rolling his shoulders. “Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” I answer, tugging the blanket around me to shield from the damp chill.

Our eyes meet in a silent exchange, recalling the closeness we shared hours ago.

The chain weighs at my collar, but the memory of his fingers trailing along the scarred metal is fresh enough that it doesn’t sting as harshly.

We gather our belongings in quiet coordination, a newfound softness in our movements around each other. He helps me stand, offering his arm for balance when my ankle twinges. I offer him a small, tired smile in return, my chest tight with a mixture of hope and looming dread for the future.

Outside, the rain lingers in a steady patter, turning the foothills into a patchwork of slick mud and glistening leaves.

We both know we’ll be trudging through miserable conditions today, but I can’t find it in me to complain.

Not when the tension between us has eased, replaced by a fragile bond that might see us through.

“Ready?” he asks quietly, adjusting the harness that secures his pack.

I nod, fingers brushing the chain around my neck. One day, I’ll be free of this. “Let’s keep going,” I reply, voice resolute.

And so we emerge from our alcove, stepping into another day of uncertain travel.

The storm-scented air ruffles Korrin’s wings and tosses my hair into my eyes.

Yet beneath the gray sky and the distant threat of enemies, I sense a flicker of cautious optimism.

We’ve confronted each other’s secrets—his creation as an executioner, my terror over purna magic—and we’ve chosen to stand side by side.

The path through the foothills remains dangerous, the future even more so. But I take Korrin’s hand—he squeezes mine in return—and we forge ahead. The chain rattles, yes, but my heart thrums with an unexpected warmth that just might sustain us when the darkest moments come.