I snarl a warning. Elyria grips my arm. The elf recovers quickly, leveling his crossbow at me. Time seems to slow. If he shoots, I might dodge, but Elyria’s at risk. My wings flare in a protective arc, shifting to shield her. The elf’s finger tightens on the trigger.

A sudden rustle behind him: the third dark elf, the one we lost track of. He emerges from the corridor, sees the scene, curses. The tension spikes. We’re outnumbered two to one. But I sense their fear—they just saw me kill a gargoyle single-handedly. That might buy us an edge.

Elyria’s nails dig into my arm. “Korrin…” She breathes my name, voice taut. She’s no fighter, but she stands tall, refusing to cower. Fierce pride surges in me.

The elf with the crossbow snarls, “Surrender, gargoyle, or we put a bolt through your heart. Then we take the girl.”

My blood roars. “Try,” I say, voice rough. “I’ll rip you apart like I did your friend.”

His eyes flick to the corpse, lips tightening. The other elf readies a throwing knife, stepping wide. They mean to flank me. My heart hammers—two elves with ranged weapons could be lethal. I must strike first.

Elyria senses my intention. She tugs the chain to brace herself behind me. “Korrin?—”

“Stay back,” I growl. One chance. I fake a lunge to the left, prompting the crossbow elf to shift aim.

Then I pivot, wings snapping open, hurtling to the right.

The second elf, armed with a knife, hurls it at me.

It grazes my shoulder, stinging. I ignore the pain, barreling into him.

He screams as my claws rake his abdomen.

He tries to slash me with another blade, but I grab his wrist, twisting until the bones snap. He collapses, wailing.

I spin just in time to see the crossbow elf fire a bolt.

It streaks toward me. No time to dodge. With a desperate move, I raise my arm, letting the bolt slam into my forearm’s thick hide, wincing at the impact.

Pain flares, but the bolt doesn’t fully penetrate my stony flesh. The elf curses, fumbling to reload.

I let out a feral snarl, launching at him.

He tries to backpedal, but the corridor’s cramped.

I seize the crossbow, yanking it aside as he scrambles for a dagger.

My tail whips around, knocking his legs from under him.

He hits the floor with a gasp, dagger clattering away.

Without hesitation, I stomp down, hearing bones crack.

He howls in agony. Kill him, my old training insists.

But I pause, chest heaving. Is it necessary?

The elf glares up at me, blood trickling from his mouth. He glances at Elyria, eyes alight with hate. “This is purna scum,” he spits. “She’ll doom us all.”

Rage flares white-hot. My claws descend, silencing him in a swift slash that ends his words. Blood spatters across the crumbling stones. I stand there, chest heaving, mind reeling. Two elves and a gargoyle lie dead at my feet. The fortress corridor stinks of gore and fear.

Elyria steps forward, breath ragged. “Korrin…”

I stagger, wings trembling. The clash of adrenaline and horror churns in me. “Are you—hurt?” I manage.

She shakes her head, voice trembling. “N-no. I’m fine.” Her eyes flick to the bodies, then back to me. Concern shadows her face. “You’re bleeding.”

I follow her gaze to the crossbow bolt embedded in my forearm. Blood trickles down my stony skin, mingling with that of my slain kin. My stomach roils. “It’s… not too deep,” I say, forcing composure. “I can remove it.”

She nods, reaching out. “Let me help. You did all this for me.”

I dip my head in a slight nod, not trusting my voice to remain steady. I ended the lives of my own clanmate and these elves. Guilt, sorrow, and determination swirl, but overshadowing all is relief that Elyria remains safe. It’s the choice I made—my final break from the Alpha’s tyranny.

We limp back to the small corner room we’d claimed as a campsite.

The fortress remains eerily silent now, the threat presumably ended.

Still, we keep our guard up, ears pricked for more footsteps.

None come. The dead won’t bring reinforcements.

Yet I can’t shake the sense that we must leave soon, before any other patrol arrives.

Inside, Elyria hastily lights a few coals leftover from our smoldering fire. I sink to my knees near the flickering glow, wincing as she gently examines the bolt. Her hands are sure, though trembling, as she grips it. “Ready?” she whispers.

I nod, jaw clenched. She yanks. Pain screams through my limb, but I grunt, refusing to cry out. Hot blood flows. Elyria quickly presses a strip of cloth over the wound, stanching the bleeding. I glimpse tears in her eyes as she works. “I’m so sorry,” she chokes. “You’ve sacrificed so much.”

I manage a tight smile, a shaky attempt to comfort her. “I’d do it again,” I rasp. The truth resonates in my chest. I’d kill a hundred more if it keeps her alive.

She binds my arm, face taut with worry. Then she looks at me, expression raw. “We have to go, right? There might be more out there.”

I nod, exhaling a quivering breath. “Yes. But first, I need a moment.” My gaze drifts to the corridor where the bodies lie.

They were my enemies. Yet one was a gargoyle from my own clan.

I rub my forehead, guilt and bitterness twisting inside me.

“He recognized me. He’ll tell no one now, but eventually, the clan will know a scout is missing. Rumors will spread. The Alpha?—”

She leans close, putting a hand on my chest. The chain clinks softly. “We’ll keep moving, find somewhere deeper, safer.” Her voice gains a shaky resolve. “I can’t let you face them alone if they come for you. We’ll stand together.”

Emotion swells, raw and fierce. My free hand wraps over hers, gripping with desperate gratitude. “Thank you.” I whisper. “I… can’t lose you, Elyria.”

A tear slides down her cheek, but a faint smile trembles on her lips. “Nor I, you.”

We pack up in haste, ignoring the pain that throbs in my arm.

My wings feel heavy, but I can’t show weakness.

Elyria helps me shrug into my harness, her hands lingering on my shoulder.

We speak little. The chain’s presence is a bittersweet anchor—it kept up the ruse that she’s a captive, but now I wonder how long it’ll matter.

I’m openly a traitor, beyond redemption in the clan’s eyes.

Before leaving the fortress, we pause in the courtyard to assess the best route out.

Pale light spills through the shattered gatehouse, illuminating the carnage.

The gargoyle’s body lies near the corridor’s entrance, the elves not far away.

A wave of nausea hits me. We stride past them with set jaws, refusing to linger on the gore.

Elyria’s steps are unsteady, but she keeps pace.

The chain rattles, echoing in the otherwise silent ruin.

My heart twists. I vow again to remove that chain as soon as it’s safe.

Then we slip through the breach in the wall, into the rocky valley beyond.

The sky overhead is streaked with oranges and purples, dusk creeping over the foothills.

We plan to travel by nightfall, distance ourselves from the fortress so no reinforcements can corner us.

We cross a small ridge, descending into the next valley. Only then do I let out a shuddering breath. Elyria steadies me with a hand on my good arm. “You’re trembling.”

I nod, mindful of the sticky blood on my forearm bandage. “The adrenaline is wearing off,” I admit. “And the guilt.” My voice strains. “He was my clanmate.”

She looks at me with profound sympathy, tears glistening. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. “He gave you no choice. He would have killed us.”

I nod, trying to quell the roiling in my stomach. “I know. But it’s final now. No turning back.” My eyes burn with unshed tears. The clan will see me as a monster, an oath-breaker. But I can’t regret choosing Elyria’s life.

She steps closer, chain rustling between us. Gently, she lifts a hand to my cheek, wiping away the blood splatter there. “We have each other,” she says quietly. “We’ll survive.”

My chest tightens. I place my hand over hers, pulling it to my lips for a tender kiss. Her skin is warm, trembling. “Thank you,” I repeat, voice thick. “You’re all I have now.”

Her cheeks flush, and she nods. “And you, me.”

We continue onward, navigating the rugged ground.

Dusk soon yields to night, stars pricking the sky with cold brilliance.

Our progress is slow, my wound throbs, and Elyria’s ankles still ache from the climb.

But we don’t stop until we’re far from the fortress, deeper into the wild foothills.

Eventually, we find a small outcrop offering partial shelter from the wind.

Elyria helps me lower myself onto a flat rock.

She rummages for bandages, re-checking my arm with gentle hands.

The night air is frigid, the ache in my chest heavier than the physical pain.

My clan brother’s death replays in my mind.

The look on his face, the betrayal etched there.

I am truly cut off from them now, I think.

The last slender tether to my old life is severed.

My only purpose is to keep Elyria safe, no matter the cost.

As if sensing my turmoil, she sits beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder.

The chain rests between us, cold metal on my skin.

I wrap my arm around her, ignoring the throbbing wound.

We share our body heat, letting the hush of night settle around us.

Overhead, a pale moon slides across the sky, ghostly and distant.

For a while, we speak no words. The bond between us, once fraught and uncertain, feels more real than ever. We’ve both spilled blood for each other now—my clan’s, the elves’, the old illusions about who we should be. The path forward remains perilous, but we’ll face it together. We must.

Elyria’s voice breaks the silence, soft as a whisper. “Korrin… Let’s keep going tomorrow, as far as we can. Maybe we’ll find a hidden valley or a cave system. Anything to stay off the main routes.”

I nod, lips brushing her hair. “Yes. We’ll put distance between us and any who might track that ruin.” I swallow, recalling the possibility of other gargoyles investigating their missing scout. “We won’t stop until we’re beyond their reach.”

She trembles slightly, nestling closer. “I’m with you,” she says, quiet resolve in every syllable.

I close my eyes and let her warmth seep into me, letting the tension in my wings subside.

The chain presses into my chest, but I let it be.

For now. We’re bound by more than that chain— a vow forged in blood, in defiance of the Alpha’s cruelty, in the fragile hope that we can carve out a future free from the wars of old.

Thunder rumbles distantly on the horizon, but no rain falls here.

The stars glitter overhead, oblivious to mortal struggles.

I hold Elyria close, mindful of my bandaged arm.

My heart still aches with guilt for the gargoyle I killed, but I cling to the conviction that my choice was necessary.

I am not an executioner for the Alpha anymore.

I am a guardian, a traitor, a shield for the woman who might be the last High Purna in existence.

And so we rest, the hush of the wild foothills our only companion.

The hush is broken only by our quiet breathing and the faint clink of her collar.

The dawn will bring new trials, but for this moment, I let my eyes drift shut, comforted by her presence.

My final thought before sleep claims me: I will kill again if I must. I will burn the world if it means keeping her alive.