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Occasionally, we hear scuffles or distant cries.

The fortress reels from the vacuum left by the Alpha’s downfall.

No one tries to stop us—some gargoyles peer from doorways, but they shrink back upon seeing Elyria’s silver aura.

They fear her raw purna might. My battered face contorts in a bittersweet smile. She is unstoppable now.

Finally, we descend a narrow stair leading to an abandoned corridor used for old supplies. My mind fuzzes with exhaustion. She half-carries me, breath ragged, tears still streaming. “Stay with me,” she pleads. “Don’t pass out.”

I cling to consciousness, leaning into her warmth.

The corridor ends in a rusted iron gate.

She sets me down gently, hands trembling as she tests it.

Locked. But she summons a faint crackle of silver flame, hissing as she scorches the lock until it breaks.

The reek of melted metal stings my nostrils.

With a final push, she swings the gate open.

A cold draft wafts from beyond—a tunnel leading under the fortress walls.

Relief pulses in my chest. We’re nearly out.

She helps me along the tunnel, each step an agony.

My broken wings drag, leaving a trail of blood.

My vision dims again, black spots dancing. Just a bit more, Korrin.

We stumble out of a low arch into the open air.

Night has fallen fully, a sky of faint stars overhead.

The fortress walls loom behind us, but we see no immediate pursuit.

A rocky slope extends downward, leading to a narrow ravine.

The wind bites, cold against my fevered skin.

Elyria breathes a shaky sob of relief. “We’re out,” she gasps.

I sag in her grip, near collapse. “Far enough… we must go… farther,” I whisper, voice cracking. She nods, tears glistening. We begin descending the slope, but each step jars my ravaged back. My mind wavers, consciousness threatening to slip away.

“Hold on,” she urges, trying to keep me upright. Her aura has faded to a faint glow, the collar partially fused around her neck. Blood mats her clothing too, from her own injuries. We’re both so close to the brink. But we’re free.

As we reach the ravine floor, I can go no further. My legs buckle, sending me crumpling to my knees. She tries to ease me down, but the scalding agony rips a cry from my throat. Warm, slick blood coats my hands. My chest heaves with ragged gasps. “Elyria,” I rasp. “Leave me… run… they’ll come.”

She drops beside me, cradling my face. “No,” she chokes, tears streaming. “I won’t leave you. Not after everything.”

I let out a ragged laugh that dissolves into a cough, tasting more blood. My wings are destroyed, my mind ablaze with pain. “You can… survive without me,” I insist, though my heart stutters at the thought. Her eyes flare with fierce devotion.

“We survive together,” she says, voice trembling but resolute.

She glances over her shoulder at the fortress high above.

No sign of immediate pursuit. Perhaps the chaos within buys us a head start.

She lifts a shaking hand, silver sparks dancing faintly on her fingertips.

“I can… try to help,” she murmurs. “I don’t know how to heal, but maybe I can burn the wounds shut. ”

Fear and hope war in my chest. Cauterizing my wing stumps with purna magic? That might kill me from shock. But it’s better than bleeding out here in the cold. I manage a nod, tears sliding down my cheeks. “Do it.”

She positions me so I lie on my side, wings splayed behind me.

Gently, she tears strips from her ruined tunic, pressing them to the worst of the bleeding.

Then, trembling, she summons that spark.

My entire body tenses, a raw moan of pain escaping.

She sets her hand above my left wing stub, a glow forming.

“This… will hurt,” she warns, tears in her voice.

I bite down on a piece of cloth, shutting my eyes.

The first lick of silver flame sears my flesh, drawing a muffled scream from my throat.

My muscles spasm. Elyria sobs, but she continues, forging that glowing heat into a brand that scorches the wound closed.

The stench of charred flesh curls my stomach, black spots dancing in my vision.

I can’t black out. Summoning everything, I endure.

She does the same to the right wing stub, tears and silver flame dripping from her trembling hands.

By the end, I’m half-senseless, shaking violently with feverish pain. But the bleeding has slowed, at least. She collapses beside me, pressing her forehead to mine, hearts beating in ragged unison. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles over and over, voice raw with grief.

I can’t speak, only grip her wrist, letting her know I understand.

My entire being is numb except for the throbbing agony in my back.

Yet relief stirs: we’re outside, away from that monstrous ring.

Together. The fortress lights flicker above us, but no gargoyles appear in immediate pursuit.

Maybe they have bigger problems—like reeling from Elyria’s unstoppable storm of magic or dealing with their wounded Alpha.

Night wears on as we embrace each other in that ravine.

I drift in and out of consciousness, mind drifting with pain.

Elyria does her best to bandage me further, though we have no real supplies.

She whispers soothing words, tears never far.

I dimly recall her pressing water to my lips from a shallow puddle, telling me to hold on.

The collar remains fused around her neck, half-ruined but still present.

I see the faint runes flicker, as if powerless now.

She overcame them. A shaky pride flickers in me. She overcame the entire clan’s might.

At some point near dawn, the sky lightens, a pale hush over the mountains. My fever breaks slightly, allowing me clearer thoughts. Elyria dozes in a weary slump beside me, one arm protectively across my chest. She stirs when I shift, blinking awake with bloodshot eyes.

“Korrin,” she whispers, voice hoarse. “How do you feel?”

I swallow, forcing a breath. “Hurts… but alive,” I manage, which is miracle enough. She lets out a tiny relieved sob, leaning her forehead to mine. Her tears glisten in the early dawn’s light, each droplet a testament to how close we were to doom.

After a moment, she helps me sit upright. The pain is excruciating, but I clench my teeth, determined. “We must move,” I rasp. “They might search the valleys.”

She nods, although tears remain in her eyes. “I’ll help you. We’ll find a cave or a hidden path, something.” A flicker of that silver aura pulses around her fingertips, responding to her emotion. She flinches, half afraid. “I—I can’t control it well yet.”

I grip her hand gently. “You saved us with that power. We’ll learn to harness it,” I say, voice trembling from exhaustion. She stares at me with an odd mixture of hope and sorrow. We’ll face this new reality together—my wings destroyed, her magic newly awakened.

Slowly, with her supporting most of my weight, we stand.

I hiss as the freshly cauterized stumps on my back press against the air.

The world spins, but I manage to stay upright with her help.

She wraps an arm around me. Our eyes meet in the hush of dawn, the ravine’s shadows retreating.

We’re free… in the sense that no immediate gargoyle hunts us.

Yet the future looms uncertain. The clan remains hostile, the Alpha possibly alive under that rubble, dark elves still out there.

But at least we hold each other, battered survivors forging a new path.

She brushes a hand across my cheek, tears mingling with a faint, waning glow around her fingertips. “I’m so sorry about your wings,” she whispers, voice catching. “You did it… for me.”

A shaky breath escapes me. “They were never truly mine if it meant harming you. I’m free of them, and free of that old vow.” The pain is beyond words, but my resolve stands. “We’ll keep going, Elyria. Together.”

She swallows tears, nodding. Our gazes lock, a quiet understanding passing. We nearly died—nearly killed each other at the clan’s command. But we refused. In that refusal, we’ve carved a love out of ashes.

Carefully, step by agonizing step, we begin our trek through the ravine, guided by the pale sunrise that spills across jagged rocks.

Each movement jolts agony through my severed wings, each breath a challenge.

Yet Elyria’s presence steadies me, her frail body lending surprising strength.

My mind flicks to the indefinite future: we must find refuge, a place to recover and learn to control her magic, far from gargoyle or dark elf tyranny.

As we limp forward, hand in hand, I feel the first surge of real hope.

We shattered the clan’s ring of cruelty, defied the Alpha’s edict, awakened a power that might protect us from here on.

My wings are gone, but I’ve never felt more certain of who I am—a guardian for the woman I love, forging a new life beyond the clan’s twisted shadow.

The wind sighs along the cliffs, carrying distant echoes of gargoyle roars.

But their fortress stands behind us, a place we pray never to see again.

Elyria helps me over a rocky outcrop, her collar half-broken, smoldering with dormant runes.

The chain rattles uselessly at her side, no longer binding her.

We share a weary glance, hearts beating in unison.

We’re free, though battered to the core.

In that fragile dawn, we vanish into the wild foothills, broken wings and awakened magic, hearts bound by a vow stronger than any chain.

We have no illusions—it will be a difficult road.

But we survived the clan’s verdict by choosing each other over the world.

No alpha, no oath, no dark elves can break that bond.