Page 29
Story: Claimed by the Stone Beast
After what might be days or weeks, time blurs in the quiet cell—the guard who brings my food one morning hesitates.
He’s a younger elf with uncertain eyes. Setting down the meager bowl, he lifts the gag from my mouth to let me eat.
I manage a few painful swallows, then croak, “Please… Korrin. The gargoyle. Did he survive?”
He frowns, glancing warily at the door. “Shut up,” he hisses, but there’s a flicker of sympathy on his face. “No one speaks of a gargoyle. We left him for dead.”
My heart lurches. The guard lowers his gaze.
“That’s all I know,” he mutters, then re-gags me, leaving before I can ask more.
Left him for dead. The words hammer in my skull.
That means they didn’t see a body, or confirm…
A faint ember of hope flares. They didn’t confirm his death. He could still be out there.
In the solitude that follows, I wrap trembling arms around myself.
If he’s alive, he’s out there alone, wounded.
If he’s not… My chest aches so fiercely I fear I’ll break.
But I won’t let go of the possibility that he survived.
He’s unstoppable, I remind myself. He defied the Alpha for me. He can defy death too—he must.
That evening, a commotion echoes through the fortress corridors—a faint clamor of shouts, metal striking stone.
My eyes snap open from a fitful doze. Could it be him?
My heart gallops. The chain tugs as I scramble upright, listening.
But after a flurry of noise, silence returns.
My mind latches onto the idea that Korrin might be staging a rescue, though the hush that follows chills me.
If so, he’s been thwarted… or never made it this far.
Tears sting my eyes. I sink to the floor, pressed against the cold wall, letting the chain coil in my lap. The fortress’s gloom seeps into my bones. All is lost, a voice inside me wails, echoing the finality of that ambush. Without Korrin, I am truly alone in this place.
Outside, thunder rolls ominously, as if the sky weeps with me.
My entire world has shrunk to a cell, a chain, and the searing memory of what I’ve lost. I hug the collar’s edge, remembering how he used to promise to remove it one day.
He never got the chance. Sobs wrack my body until exhaustion claims me.
In the darkness, I slip into a haze of dreams. Flickering visions of Korrin’s face, battered but alive, calling my name across a battlefield.
My mother’s voice, half-forgotten, urging me to fight.
The swirl of purna magic that might awaken in my blood.
I wake panting, tears drying on my cheeks.
A trace of determination flickers in my chest. I can’t surrender.
If Korrin’s out there, if he’s alive, I owe it to both of us to keep fighting.
Chains or no, I start testing every link, every ring in the floor.
Each tug sends vibrations up my arms, but the iron is set solidly.
My wrists remain bound in front, giving me limited reach.
No lock picks, no tools. Still, I can’t give up.
Grunting, I strain against the ring, ignoring the collar biting my neck. The metal creaks but doesn’t budge.
My heart plunges again, but the flicker of resolve remains. If Korrin taught me anything, it’s that adversity can be defied. Even if I’m alone now, I must keep searching for a means to escape. I refuse to die here, a chained prisoner.
In that moment, footsteps approach. I freeze, chain taut. The door scrapes open, torchlight flooding the cell. Two burly elves stride in, the younger guard trailing behind them. The older one, presumably an officer, sneers at my trembling form.
“Time to move you,” he says. “The mistress wants to see her prized purna.”
My gut twists. Mistress? Possibly some higher-ranked dark elf or a fortress official. They unfasten the chain from the floor ring but keep the collar and wrist bindings in place. Then they haul me to my feet, ignoring my muffled protests through the gag.
The younger guard glances away, guilt flickering in his eyes.
I cling to that small crack of empathy, but he offers no help.
Instead, the officer yanks me forward. My ankles stumble, the chain tangling.
They half-drag me from the cell, along a corridor that smells of rot and stale air.
My heart rattles with renewed fear. Where are they taking me?
They lead me up winding stairs, into torchlit passages where the stone floors gleam with fresh moisture.
I recall these corridors, or ones like them, from my time as a slave—dim, foreboding, patrolled by merciless overseers.
My pulse pounds. If I can’t find a chance to break free soon, I’ll be at the mercy of whoever “the mistress” is.
At a final landing, the officer knocks on a reinforced door.
A muffled voice grants entry. The door swings open, revealing a small antechamber draped in black fabric, reeking of incense.
My stomach churns at the cloying scent. Another dark elf stands within, tall and robed in dark crimson.
Her eyes flick over me with cold interest.
“So this is the infamous purna,” she says, voice silken with danger. She gestures dismissively, and the officer shoves me forward. “Gag off,” she commands, arching a brow. “I want to hear her voice.”
The officer obeys. My gag is pulled away, leaving me coughing in the thick incense-laden air. Tears prickle. I glare at the robed elf, though the chain and wrist bindings betray my helplessness.
She smiles, predatory. “You gave us quite the chase, dear.” Her gaze slides to my collar. “But fate brings you back. The fortress is thrilled by your return. The mistress has many questions.”
Fear thrums, but I force my voice not to shake. “Where’s Korrin?” I demand, throat hoarse.
Her lips curve in a cruel smirk. “The gargoyle? Perhaps rotting somewhere. I hear he left quite a few of my comrades in pieces. If he’s alive, not for long.”
Anguish stabs my heart. My breath stutters. They’re lying, or… oh gods, what if he truly fell? A sob threatens to rise, but I quell it, refusing to show weakness. “You’ll regret this,” I manage through clenched teeth. “He’ll come for me if he’s alive.”
She laughs softly, as if savoring my despair. “I look forward to seeing that. For now, we’ll keep you safe in our custody.” She gestures to the guards. “Return her to a holding cell, but a more… specialized one. The mistress will see her soon enough.”
I recoil, but they seize me again, ignoring my frantic struggles. “Korrin!” I scream one last time, voice echoing in the corridor. The robed elf’s laughter follows me as they drag me away.
They escort me down a different hallway, deeper into the fortress than ever. My hope sinks with every step. Tapestries hang on the walls, depicting dark elf victories over humans and monstrous forms. The heavy oppression of this place weighs on me like a physical force.
At last, we arrive at a cell block lit by eerie greenish lanterns.
One guard slides open a reinforced metal gate, revealing a cramped cell lined with runic inscriptions.
My chest constricts, these runes might be designed to suppress any latent magic.
They’re caging me not just physically, but magically.
They shove me inside. The collar chain is locked to a ring in the wall, giving me even less mobility than before.
My arms still bound in front, I slump to my knees, trembling.
A final clang echoes as they shut the iron gate, then I hear the snick of multiple locks.
No chance of prying those open by brute force.
Alone in the flickering greenish gloom, tears flood my eyes.
My entire body shakes with grief, exhaustion, and the raw terror of returning to captivity.
This is it. I’m lost. The fortress has me again, more securely than before, and the only one who ever dared rescue me might lie broken in some lonely mountain pass. My soul hollows out.
I put my forehead to the cold stone floor, the chain biting my throat. “Korrin… please be alive,” I whisper, voice shaking. But no answer comes, just the mocking silence of a fortress built on cruelty. My tears blot the dusty floor, heart fracturing under the weight of my loss.
In that final moment, everything seems truly undone.
The fragile freedom we shared, our tender bond, the hope of forging a life away from the clan and the elves—all shattered by a single ambush.
My mind replays Korrin’s last roar, the bolt striking him, the gargoyle slamming him to the ground. He can’t survive that, can he?
My sobs echo in the chamber, a lonely lament that no one hears. Bound, collared, cut off from light or rescue, I surrender to despair. The fortress walls loom around me like a tomb. It’s over, I think. All is lost.
Table of Contents
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- Page 29 (Reading here)
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