Page 36

KORRIN

I ’m on my knees, chest pounding, the ring of gargoyles looming around me like a wall of stone.

The Alpha stands above, obsidian skin rippling with arcane fury, staff crackling with crimson lightning.

The entire arena reeks of sweat and raw terror, and I taste blood in the back of my throat.

Elyria lies collapsed a dozen paces away, arms shackled, her chain half-melted but still pinning her to the floor.

She’s gasping, tears staining her ash-covered cheeks.

It’s as if every flicker of hope has been torn from us—yet we’re both still breathing.

The clan roars for my blood, for her blood, for some savage display of final loyalty.

My battered wings throb with each breath, a constant reminder of how close I am to complete ruin.

I’ve refused the Alpha’s command not just once but more, failing to execute her.

The monstrous hush that fell after her last surge of magic has receded, replaced by a deafening clamor.

Gargoyles circle the arena tiers, stamping and jeering.

My heart flutters with raw panic. We can’t fight them all.

I swallow, forcing myself to move. My side aches fiercely where a blade sliced through earlier.

The wound drips a sluggish trickle of blood, spattering against the polished stone.

I look at Elyria—my reason for defying everything I ever was.

She’s trembling, half-conscious, the collar scorched into her neck.

My gut twists with rage. I can’t let this be our end.

She tries to lift her head, meeting my gaze through strands of tangled hair.

In her eyes, I see heartbreak and an unspoken apology—she couldn’t break free.

And I see love, shining through agony. That flicker gives me the strength to stand.

I push up on shaking legs. My wings sag, half-spread.

Gargoyles hiss at me from all sides, brandishing weapons.

I can do nothing alone. The Alpha’s staff cracks the air with a discharge of lightning, snapping me back to the present.

He stands tall, horns curving, wings partially fanned to display his dominance.

“You think to defy me again?” he growls, voice echoing. A hush descends. Torches flare along the arena walls, illuminating the throng of onlookers. My mouth tastes of dust and despair, but I gather what remains of my spirit.

“Better defiance than a life spent murdering the innocent,” I say, voice cracked but resolute. My eyes flick to Elyria, still pinned by her half-melted chain. No more. I won’t harm her to save myself.

The Alpha’s obsidian lips peel back in a snarl, revealing fangs. “Then you choose death for both of you.” His staff hums with lethal energy. “No more chances, Korrin. You were our prized executioner, and you spat on our laws. This purna threatens our clan’s very survival.”

“She threatens nothing,” I retort, though my knees shake. “You threaten everything by chaining us to your fear.”

A ripple of shock runs through the crowd.

I have never spoken to the Alpha so disrespectfully.

But I can’t hide my fury. If I die, let it be with truth on my tongue.

Elyria stirs on the floor, struggling to push herself onto one elbow, her wide eyes locked on me.

I wish I could gather her in my arms, but a ring of armed gargoyles stands between us.

The Alpha points his staff. “Your defiance ends here.” A swirl of red lightning arcs from the staff, aimed at me.

I instinctively raise my wounded wing, bracing for agony.

The bolt slams into me with a jolt of scorching pain.

I choke on a cry, stumbling, wing membranes burning.

He’s powerful enough to kill me in one strike if he wishes.

My knees hit the ground again. Blood pulses in my ears.

The taste of charred flesh floods my senses.

Elyria screams my name, her voice hoarse and desperate.

She tries to stand, chain rattling, but guards keep her pinned.

The collar’s runes glow, containing her purna spark.

My chest heaves, mind spinning. This is the end.

The Alpha readies another strike, staff raised high, the crowd bellowing for blood.

But then he halts, a gleam of vicious cunning flickering in his eyes.

He lowers the staff slightly and gestures to the sword that remains embedded in the arena floor, not far from me.

“You want to die a traitor’s death? Or prove me wrong.

” He sneers, glancing at the battered ring where Elyria kneels.

“Pick up the blade again. End this purna. We might yet spare your miserable life.”

A savage hush. My breath rasps. I can barely stand, wings trembling from that lightning bolt.

My entire body screams in pain. I close my eyes, recalling all that led me here: the day I first spared Elyria, the nights we shared in the wild, the tears in her eyes as we realized we could not exist without each other.

I will not kill her. That oath is carved into my bones.

The clan or the Alpha can do as they wish.

I force myself upright again, ignoring the waves of pain. My vision swims. The crowd shifts, anticipating my next move. Elyria sobs softly, tears cutting pale lines through the soot on her cheeks. She thinks we’re doomed. A strangled noise escapes me. I must show them—I won’t be controlled again.

The Alpha’s voice booms, “Korrin, this is your last chance.” His staff crackles, but he holds his strike, waiting to see if I’ll pick up the sword.

The entire arena hushes, a dreadful hush.

I stagger toward the embedded blade, the gargoyles parting slightly to allow me.

My hands tremble as I grip the hilt, yanking it from the stone.

A hush of excitement or horror flutters among the watchers. They think I might do it.

Sword in hand, I pivot, ignoring the agony in my side.

Elyria’s chain rattles as she tries to crawl closer, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The ring holds her fast. Her eyes meet mine, a silent question: Will you truly—?

She can’t finish the thought. My own heart clenches with love and anguish.

I can’t kill her, can’t let them kill her either.

The crowd presses in, wings rustling, waiting for me to strike.

A savage clarity grips me. The clan’s pride is in my wings.

They consider them a symbol of my lethal prowess, a gift from the Alpha to carry out his will.

If I strip that away, I shatter the clan’s hold on me.

Yes, it’s madness, but better that than kill Elyria.

My entire life, I soared above them as the perfect executioner.

Now, I’ll renounce that power in front of everyone.

Time slows. Elyria’s eyes widen, sensing something.

The Alpha snarls, sensing my intent. Gargoyles shift uncertainly, not sure what I’m doing.

I tighten my grip on the blade, inhaling a trembling breath.

My gaze flicks from her tear-streaked face to the black, curved sword.

I can’t do it halfway—I must make a statement that no one can ignore.

My wings burn with the memory of flight. Goodbye, old life.

With a roar that tears from the depths of my soul, I raise the sword overhead.

But instead of driving it into Elyria, I swing it backward at my own wings.

Pain explodes as steel meets flesh and membrane.

The entire world becomes a shriek of agony.

Gargoyles gasp in collective disbelief. The blade hacks into the arch of my left wing, snapping bone with a sickening crack.

Fire surges through my nerves. My mouth opens in a silent scream, tears streaming.

Blood spatters across the polished floor.

The crowd erupts in chaos. Some gargoyles recoil in horror, others snarl, trying to lunge forward.

The Alpha bellows, staff blazing. But I’m not done—my mind roils with unstoppable momentum.

Both wings. I pivot, swinging the blade again at my right wing, severing tendons, feeling the bone snap under the impact.

Another roar tears from my lips, raw agony flooding every sense.

My legs nearly buckle. I can’t fly, I can’t fight, but I choose her over flight or clan.

The sword slips from my trembling hand, clanging on the stone.

Blood streams down my back, wings limp and shattered behind me.

The ring echoes with stunned silence. Not even the Alpha’s staff crackles.

Elyria cries out my name, voice shaking with heartbreak.

She sees me bleed, sees me sever the last piece of me that was the clan’s property.

I fall to my knees, tears scorching my cheeks, dizzy from pain.

But I manage to rasp, “I do not need wings… to… protect her.” My voice ragged. “I… choose her.”

For a heartbeat, nobody moves. Gargoyles gape, stunned by my self-mutilation.

Then pandemonium explodes. Half the clan roars in outrage, others recoil from the sheer brutality.

The Alpha unleashes a howl of unbridled fury.

“You lunatic!” he snarls, staff blazing anew.

“You would rather maim yourself than obey me? Then I’ll see you both torn apart! ”

Varzak leaps from the dais, brandishing a spear.

Guards swarm the ring. My head spins with blood loss.

Elyria screams my name, still chained, still powerless.

The collar’s runes flicker, half-burned from her earlier surge of magic.

If only she could break free. My heart lurches: We must survive this moment of chaos.