Page 41

I brush hair from his face. “Korrin, hold on to me,” I murmur, voice shaking. “I’m… I’m going to try something.”

He groans, half-lucid. “Whatever it is, I trust you.” The softness of that statement nearly undoes me. He trusts me even with raw destructive magic.

I steel myself, hooking an arm under his shoulder. My mind drags up the sensation of that silver aura swirling around me in the arena, the unstoppable wave that parted the clan. Fear glimmers: What if I lose control? But I banish it. He’s dying if we stay.

Drawing a trembling breath, I summon the flicker in my blood, the purna inheritance.

My battered collar crackles ominously. My entire body seizes with tension as the magic responds, swirling in my chest like a searing sun.

I whisper a desperate plea—some half-formed incantation or prayer—and direct that power into my limbs, imagining a cushion of force beneath us, a surge that might carry us.

My arms tingle, arcs dancing around my wrists.

Korrin gasps as the air around us thickens.

We rise a few inches off the ground, a shimmering bubble of silver light forming under our feet, lifting us slowly.

My heart leaps: I can do it. Korrin clings to me, eyes wide in shock.

The bubble wobbles precariously, threatening to collapse.

My arms shake. Pain bites into the half-melted collar.

But I cling to the thread of magic, ignoring the tears that stream from my eyes. “Hold tight,” I choke out.

He nods, pressing his face to my shoulder.

With a strangled cry, I push the bubble forward, drifting a foot or so above the rocky ground.

Each breath is a labor, my lungs burning as the magic scours my veins.

Just enough to move swiftly, so his feet don’t drag.

We lurch forward, swaying unsteadily, but it’s faster than limping.

My entire body quivers, yet determination spurs me on. We must find cover.

With teeth gritted, I guide the bubble across the valley floor, scanning for an overhang or cave.

The effort is immense. Sweat drenches me, and dark splotches dance at the edge of my vision.

Korrin remains silent, trusting me, cradling his shattered wings.

The slope ahead rises toward a stand of stunted pine trees.

If we can reach them, maybe we can hide among the brush. Almost there.

The bubble flickers dangerously. My control slips.

I let out a sob, forcing the power to hold a moment longer.

The collar crackles, runes glowing faintly in protest. My scalp prickles with pressure, migraines stabbing behind my eyes.

We’re so close. We crest the slope, pine needles brushing the shimmering edge of my conjured force.

Then the magic collapses entirely, dumping us onto the ground.

I gasp, arms wrapped around Korrin to cushion his fall.

We roll in a tangle, pines scattering needles on our exhausted forms.

By some miracle, we land softly enough not to aggravate Korrin’s wounds too severely.

I lie there, chest heaving, the last arcs of silver dancing across my arms before fading into numbness.

My entire body throbs, head pounding from magical backlash.

I can’t maintain that again soon. But we’re among the pines now, mostly hidden from prying eyes.

The slope behind us conceals us from the open valley.

Breathing heavily, I glance around: the pine stand is dense, the ground covered in needle litter, forming a quiet grove.

This might be safe enough for the moment.

Korrin groans, clinging to consciousness. I shift to cradle his head in my lap, tears flowing down my cheeks. “Korrin,” I whisper, brushing hair from his damp brow. “We’re… we’re hidden. Rest.” He nods faintly, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and pain.

I exhale, scanning the area for signs of pursuit. The pines stand silent, wind stirring their branches. No elf voices, no gargoyle wings beating overhead. A trembling relief seeps into me. We escaped immediate threats.

For a long while, we remain there, catching our breath.

My magic is dormant again, leaving me shaky and hollow.

Korrin’s face is pale, lines of pain bracketing his mouth.

Yet he’s alive, chest rising and falling under my palm.

We can’t keep running indefinitely. We must fortify or find a deeper refuge.

But at least, for this fleeting moment, we’re free from the fortress’s blood-soaked ring, from the clan’s cruel decree.

He stirs, voice raspy. “You saved me again,” he manages, grimacing at the twinge in his shoulder. “I… can’t repay?—”

“Stop,” I interrupt, pressing a trembling kiss to his forehead.

“You gave everything first. We do this for each other, no debts.” My tears slip onto his cheek, and he closes his eyes, a soft moan escaping.

We’re battered, but together. Overflowing love fills me, overshadowing the terror of the last hours.

Time drifts, the morning light brightening into a sunlit day.

Slowly, we muster the strength to explore the pine grove.

Korrin limps, leaning on me heavily. We find a shallow indentation at the base of a boulder where we can huddle, out of direct sight.

I gather pine needles to make a makeshift bedding, ignoring the stinging in my arms. He sits with a pained groan, letting me examine his new shoulder wound.

My chest aches at the raw slash, but the bleeding has slowed.

I wash it with the leftover water, murmuring apologies each time he hisses.

He never complains, only watches me with sorrowful devotion.

The closeness of the pines, their resinous scent, mingles with the copper tang of blood.

Despite the grimness, I find solace in his presence.

They forced a public execution. He refused them all to stand by me.

When I finish, I cradle his cheeks, searching his eyes. “We defied them,” I say softly, “both gargoyles and dark elves. We’re free, but we’re hunted. Are we truly prepared to keep running forever?”

He closes his eyes, exhaling a ragged breath. “I can’t run,” he murmurs, voice thick with pain. “Not far, at least. My wings are gone, my body battered.” He rubs the scorched stumps, biting back tears. “But if we must fight again, I’ll stand. I won’t let them reclaim you.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “I won’t let them reclaim me either,” I vow, fire in my belly.

“My magic is wild, but it responded to our need. Maybe we can harness it to defend ourselves if they corner us.” My chest tightens with fear.

Unleashing more devastation could kill me or him, but we have no choice.

His lips press into a faint, wry smile. “You were terrifying in that arena, you know.” He tries to laugh, but it turns into a cough. I support him gently, heart twisting. He’s so broken.

Still, the fact that we can share this moment, even marred by suffering, is a testament to our survival.

My eyes drift to the collar, half-fused around my neck, runes blackened.

I finger it gingerly. “They can no longer use it to strangle me, but it’s still stuck.

” I let out a humorless laugh. “Ironic, that even free, I wear a symbol of captivity.”

Korrin’s gaze flicks to it, regret softening his features. “When I can stand better, we’ll pry it off. Or I’ll break it with a stone. I promise.”

I nod, tears brimming. The memory of him snapping his own wings to break the clan’s hold resurfaces. We both wear scars of captivity. But we have each other. That is enough reason to keep living.

The day passes in uneasy quiet. We remain hidden, rationing the scraps of food left in Korrin’s satchel.

My magic remains dormant, giving me no fresh headaches, but I can feel a hum in my blood that warns me I’m on the edge of unleashing it if threatened.

Korrin dozes fitfully, and each time his breath catches from a new wave of pain, I cradle him, whispering reassurance.

As dusk approaches, the sky dims. I sense an itch at the back of my mind—like a gathering presence. My instincts shout danger. I stiffen, carefully scanning the pine shadows. Korrin rouses, noticing my tension. “What is it?”

I hold a finger to my lips, heart pounding. Something shifts in the woods beyond, branches cracking. My worst fear realized: They found us. I motion for Korrin to stay low. He grips a dagger from his belt, though his arms shake with the effort. My own body goes taut, every sense alert.

A moment later, a small band of dark elves emerges from the gloom—three, maybe four, armed with bows or crossbows.

They prowl between the pines, scanning the ground.

My breath catches. They’re tracking our blood trail.

Korrin curses softly under his breath, face paling.

He’s in no condition to fight more than one.

My magic might help, but I’m exhausted too.

I glance at Korrin, reading his despair.

My chest seizes. We must do something. The elves fan out, footsteps rustling needles.

They’re close, less than thirty paces away.

If I wait for them to see us, we’ll be pinned.

Fear merges with fury— They will not drag me away, not harm Korrin.

My collar rattles as I rise to a half-crouch, ignoring his frantic whisper to wait.

One elf steps into a patch of dying light, crossbow raised.

He mutters something to his companion. They see a smear of blood on the needle-carpeted ground, pointing.

They’re so close. My heart hammers. I must strike first. I glance back at Korrin, giving a silent apology.

Then, summoning that flicker, I release a gentle wave of silver energy forward.

It won’t be like the arena. I can’t manage that scale again.

But a smaller force might disorient them.