Page 37
Story: Claimed by the Stone Beast
Summoning the last of my strength, I rise on unsteady legs, ignoring the agony.
The remnants of my wings hang limp, excruciating with each step.
I no longer have flight, but I can still fight.
With a snarl, I stoop to grab the sword again.
My arms shake, drenched in blood, but I grip the hilt with fierce resolve.
I may die, but I’ll not let them murder her unopposed.
Varzak rushes me, spear aimed at my chest. Pain be damned, I swing the blade in a wide arc, forcing him back.
He snarls, tail lashing. We circle each other, the crowd pressing in.
My body is failing, but my will burns bright.
I have no illusions: we’re hopelessly outnumbered.
Still, I might buy her a chance. She tries to yank her chain from the floor ring, tears flooding her eyes, face a mask of dread. My heart twists.
Varzak lunges, feinting left, then thrusting the spear at my wounded flank.
I manage a parry, wincing as the movement jars the broken stumps of my wings.
Blood pools under me, making the floor slick.
I slip, and Varzak seizes the opening, slamming the spear shaft into my ribcage.
My vision darkens from pain. I gasp, knees nearly buckling.
Varzak cackles, forcing me backward, aiming the spear at my throat. I can’t hold out.
Then a savage wave of silver-white light explodes behind Varzak, flinging him sideways with a startled yelp.
I blink through tears to see Elyria, chain half-wrenched from the ring.
Her arms glow with that same luminous energy as before, but stronger—like a storm condensed into human form.
Her eyes blaze with an otherworldly radiance, shining silver tears.
Her collar crackles, half-broken, runes failing to suppress the surge.
She’s unleashing it fully, awakened by the horror of this moment.
The crowd screams in alarm. Gargoyles in the stands recoil from the raw magical force swirling around her, a vortex of shimmering power that crackles with ozone.
The ring’s floor cracks beneath her feet.
The chain smokes where it touches her glowing wrists, metal warping under the heat.
She’s found the strength. My heart leaps with awe and fear—High Purna power truly awakened.
A wave of force radiates outward, hurling gargoyle guards off their feet.
Even the Alpha staggers, staff flickering.
The red lightning he conjures collides with her silver wave, scattering sparks across the ring.
It’s way stronger. Elyria lets out a wrenching cry, tears streaming down her glowing face as she pours everything into the release.
The chain on her collar snaps with a tortured screech, links scattering.
She stands free, arcs of silver energy dancing along her arms, hair whipping in an invisible wind.
The entire clan is thrown into chaos. Gargoyles scramble, some diving for cover, others trying to rally.
Varzak tries to stand, but another pulse knocks him back down.
My head spins. She’s unstoppable in this moment.
A fierce exultation courses through me: Yes, Elyria, destroy their tyranny.
But fear grips me, too: can she control it? I must help her somehow.
Elyria advances across the ring, silver flame wreathing her.
The floor cracks under each step, sending shockwaves that topple gargoyles left and right.
The onlookers on the tiers cry out, half stampeding to flee.
She gazes at me, heartbreak and determination mingling on her radiant features.
“Korrin,” she chokes, tears in her voice. “I—I won’t let them kill you.”
I try to stand, but my legs tremble from blood loss and agony where my wings were severed. The sword clatters from my grip. “Elyria,” I croak, eyes stinging with tears. “You’re free—go!”
She shakes her head, silver aura crackling. “Not without you.” Her voice resonates with a power not entirely her own—like a storm’s fury laced with heartbreak. She clenches her fists, turning to face the Alpha, who gathers a final surge of red lightning, staff pointed at her. “No more!” she shouts.
He unleashes a bolt that rips toward her with violent speed.
For an instant, my heart seizes. She might be overwhelmed.
But Elyria raises her glowing arms, channeling the destructive wave of magic.
The bolt collides with her silver barrier, sizzling in an explosion of sparks.
She staggers under the impact, but doesn’t fall.
Her aura flares, pushing the red lightning back, reversing it in a brilliant arc that engulfs the Alpha in a blaze of crackling energy.
He roars, knocked back, staff spinning from his grip. The dais trembles, pillars splintering. Stone fragments rain down. Gargoyles shriek as the entire structure cracks from the force. My jaw drops. She’s toppling the Alpha’s seat.
Sensing defeat, the clan’s lesser gargoyles scramble to retreat, flapping wings or diving through archways.
Some turn to attack Elyria, but each time they close in, another burst of silver flame sends them sprawling.
I muster a ragged breath. She’s terrifying in this power.
But I see tears glistening on her cheeks, the toll it takes.
Her body quakes, eyes glowing with a relentless brilliance.
She can’t sustain this for long without burning herself out.
Varzak attempts one last lunge at me, spear raised, presumably to kill me in the confusion.
I brace, though I’m nearly spent. But before he lands the blow, Elyria flings out a hand, silver arcs dancing.
He’s hurled across the ring, slamming into a broken column with bone-snapping force.
My stomach twists at the brutality, but relief floods me. She’s saved me again.
The Alpha regains his feet on the collapsing dais, rage twisting his obsidian face.
He stumbles, staff lost, red lightning flickering uselessly around his claws.
Elyria levels her gaze on him, brow furrowing.
I see the raw anguish in her expression: she doesn’t want to kill him or any gargoyle, but he forces her hand.
She releases another surge of power, a wave that cracks the dais.
He’s flung backward, roaring helplessly.
A final crash echoes as stone pillars break, burying the Alpha in rubble. Dust plumes, swallowing him from view.
A hush of terrified awe grips the arena.
The watchers scatter, fleeing through corridors or taking flight.
Elyria breathes in ragged gasps, swaying on her feet.
Her aura still glows, though it flickers dangerously.
The entire ring is littered with debris, fallen gargoyles moaning or unconscious.
I swallow hard, heart hammering with gratitude and alarm.
She’s ended the Alpha’s rule in a single catastrophic display.
She turns, stumbling toward me, tears in her glowing eyes.
I try to rise, but pain anchors me. My wings—shattered stumps—throb with every heartbeat.
Blood pools around my feet. “Korrin,” she breathes, collapsing to her knees beside me, aura crackling in arcs along her arms. Up close, I sense the violent chaos of that unleashed purna power swirling around her.
She cups my cheek, expression twisting in sorrow. “You… you cut your own wings… oh gods.”
I manage a broken smile, tears slipping down my face. “I couldn’t kill you,” I rasp. “I’d rather lose my wings, my life, anything.”
She lets out a sob, pressing her forehead to mine. The silver flame dims slightly, as though her emotional release is draining the power. “I can’t let you die now,” she whispers fiercely. “We have to get out of here.”
The ring stands largely abandoned, gargoyles having fled or been knocked unconscious.
Rubble from the dais smolders where the Alpha fell.
Thunder rumbles overhead—whether from an approaching storm or remnants of magic, I can’t tell.
The entire fortress might collapse if more pillars crumble.
Elyria lifts her gaze, scanning the cowering gargoyles who remain. None dare approach her shining aura.
She tries to haul me upright, hooking an arm under my shoulder.
I grit my teeth, biting down a scream as my broken wings jostle.
Blood slicks the floor. We stagger toward one of the archways leading out.
My eyes blur with tears from the pain, but her presence steadies me.
She’s battered too, collar half-broken, arms trembling with residual power.
Soldiers or enforcers might linger in the corridors, but the arena is in disarray—panic reigns.
Elyria’s unstoppable display has shattered their morale.
We slip out, stepping over debris and unconscious gargoyles.
My heart hammers, each step a jolt of agony.
But we keep going, guided by her trembling determination.
Torchlight flickers in the corridors beyond, revealing empty halls.
They fled. Or they’re regrouping. We must move fast.
She slows near a side passage, glancing back. “Which way?” she asks, voice tight. She expects me to know the fortress layout. My mind races. We can’t scale the main gates, it’s too exposed. A side route to the old catacombs might lead us out.
I point weakly. “Down the eastern hall… a hidden exit behind storage.” My voice is hardly audible, but she nods, supporting me.
Step by agonizing step, we traverse corridors etched with gargoyle runes, passing half-collapsed storerooms where I once trained or stored supplies.
The memory feels so distant, like a different life.
My wings ache, a savage reminder of how thoroughly I’ve severed ties.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37 (Reading here)
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54