Page 43

By dusk, we crest the ridge’s slope, panting. The view expands before us: a valley cloaked in dusky shadows, the horizon crowned with majestic peaks. No fortress spire stands in sight. My chest relaxes as I cry. We made it beyond their immediate reach.

We settle beneath a spreading pine whose trunk offers partial shelter from the wind. Korrin half collapses in my arms, breath ragged. I check his bandages: damp with fresh blood but not hemorrhaging. He tries to speak, voice raspy. “Elyria… I’m sorry I can’t stand guard tonight.”

I cradle his face, brushing tears from his cheeks.

“You stood guard for me for so long,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his.

“Let me guard you now.” My voice trembles with tenderness.

He closes his eyes, a tear sliding down the corner.

We’re reversing roles: once, he was the unstoppable executioner; now, I shield him. The thought steels my resolve.

Nightfall drapes the ridge in star-studded darkness.

I gather what wood I can find—only damp sticks and pine cones.

With careful coaxing, I conjure a tiny flicker of silver magic to spark a fire.

My entire body flinches at the memory of that destructive wave, but I manage just enough to ignite the tinder, forming a small, comforting flame.

Korrin watches from where he rests, awe shining in his tired eyes.

The fire casts dancing shadows across his face, highlighting the lines of pain and the raw heartbreak of losing his wings.

He gave everything for me, the thought repeats, a painful ache in my chest. I settle beside him, nestling under the cloak, arms wrapped around each other for warmth.

The sparks drift skyward, lost among the stars.

As we drift in near silence, I replay the day’s events—my small acts of magic that fended off dark elves, the knowledge that gargoyles might still roam these foothills.

We’re not safe yet. But if they come, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Korrin.

We have no illusions that this is the end of our conflicts.

The clan might reorganize under a new alpha, or the old one might crawl from the rubble.

The dark elves might send trackers. But we’ll face them, side by side.

I stroke Korrin’s hair, tenderly mindful of the scabs on his scalp. “We’ll make them regret coming after us,” I say softly, voice trembling with a mix of dread and defiance. I no longer cower behind illusions of safety.

He lifts his gaze, eyes brimming with gratitude. “We stand together,” he agrees.

Emotion spills over me, love, anguish, relief.

We lean our foreheads together, lips brushing in a tender kiss that tastes of soot and tears.

In that quiet moment under the pines, with a meager fire crackling at our feet, I realize how far we’ve come from the days of captivity and forced obedience. We shape our own destiny now.

The night deepens, stars wheeling overhead.

I keep vigil while Korrin dozes, stirring each time he whimpers from pain.

Gently, I hush him, pressing a comforting hand to his brow.

He clutches my wrist like a lifeline. My own eyes burn with exhaustion, but I fight to remain alert, scanning the dark silhouettes of pines, listening for any sign of approach.

Wind murmurs in the branches. An occasional owl hoots, yet no enemies appear.

As dawn’s pale glow returns, painting the eastern sky in soft oranges and pinks, I lower my guard.

Korrin mumbles, blinking awake, wincing from the night’s stiffness.

I offer him the last of our water, then help him to his feet.

The day’s stillness feels precarious, a lull before storms we know might come.

Yet my heart thrums with quiet determination: We survived another night in enemy territory.

Our bond remains strong, fueling a hope we can’t surrender.

We begin a slow trek deeper into the mountains, leaning on each other.

Each step is a testament to our vow to defy every chain.

My ankles sting from the memory of shackles, his shoulders quiver from severed wings.

But our hearts beat as one, forging a path the clan or the dark elves no longer control.

At midday, we pause on a rocky ledge to rest. The view is breathtaking—a patchwork of forested valleys, distant hills.

No fortress spires, no columns of smoke marking an army.

I exhale, letting the wonder soothe me. Korrin, slumped at my side, tries a weak smile.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs. “I never saw these slopes from the ground. I used to fly.” His voice breaks on the last word, tears pooling in his eyes.

I wrap an arm around him, pressing him close. A pang of sorrow twists my gut.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice hushed with empathy. “I wish you could still?—”

He silences me with a shaky kiss, tears slipping down his cheeks. “I choose this,” he whispers fiercely. “I’d rather walk with you than fly alone.”

My chest squeezes, tears brimming. We might never be truly safe, but we choose each other every step of the way.

As the afternoon drifts, I reflect on the final part of the vow we made.

United against gargoyles and dark elves—the impetus for what we just survived.

In a sense, we already united, standing back-to-back in the arena.

But the war is not over. We remain outlaws in both worlds.

My newly awakened purna magic might be the only thing that keeps them at bay, and Korrin’s lethal skill—though wingless now—remains formidable, if he can heal. We must prepare for more threats.

I realize that the act of uniting has already happened: we rescued each other from the jaws of our once-masters.

We defied the fortress, the clan, the old laws demanding my death, and the kill order demanding Korrin’s loyalty.

In that final stand, I rescued him from the Alpha’s execution, from Varzak’s spear, from the elves’ crossbows.

And he rescued me from the ultimate betrayal—he would not become my executioner.

We stand free of their control because we saved ourselves.

At last, we crest another ridge, entering a narrow canyon.

The wind howls off the cliffs, but the path is fairly level.

Korrin leans heavily on me, silent but determined to keep going.

The sky overhead threatens rain, clouds roiling in swirling patterns.

My gut churns at the memory of storms past. I can’t conjure that scale of magic again so soon.

Near the canyon’s midpoint, we discover a hidden pocket—a shallow cave carved into the rock face.

The opening is half-concealed by a tumble of boulders.

My heart leaps with relief. A perfect place to rest and hide.

I help Korrin navigate the rocky approach, supporting him as he nearly collapses with exhaustion.

Inside, the cave extends a short distance, enough to shield us from weather or prying eyes.

Gently, I lower him onto a patch of dusty ground.

He groans, sweat beading on his forehead.

The stumps of his wings need another cleaning, more of those moon-kiss blossoms if I can find them.

Still, we’re more secure here than we were in the open.

We’ll patch ourselves up, gather supplies.

Maybe from here, we can plan a route deeper into the mountains.

A hush settles as we catch our breath in the cave.

I kindle a small fire, using tinder from the pine stand.

Korrin sits with his head tilted back, eyes half-closed, face etched with weariness.

Yet when I settle beside him, he opens his eyes, a faint smile tugging his lips.

“We did it,” he says, voice hoarse. “We’re free—for now. ”

My throat tightens. “Yes.” I brush hair from his forehead, gazing into his golden eyes. “I wish… I wish we had more time to simply live, not just survive.” A tremor shakes my shoulders. I’m tired of being hunted, of constant pain.

He cups my chin with surprising gentleness. “We’ll make it,” he murmurs. “We’ll find a place to rest, gather strength, let you master your magic. Then if they come, we’ll stand against them. Together.”

Tears slip from my eyes, love and gratitude mingling in my heart. I press my forehead against his, inhaling the faint smell of smoke and salt. “I won’t let them chain me again,” I vow. I destroyed that collar. If I must, I’ll destroy a hundred more.

He nods, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, a promise that lingers between us in the quiet gloom.

The sound of our breathing, slow and matched, fills the cave.

For a moment, I recall the arena’s roar, the Alpha’s lethal staff, the unstoppable clan.

We overcame them. My pulse thrums with a fierce joy that tears can’t fully express.

As evening deepens, the cave grows chilly.

I tuck the battered cloak around Korrin, wishing I had more to offer him.

We share a handful of the rations left in the pack—dried meat, stale bread.

It’s not much, but enough to quell hunger pangs.

The flickering firelight casts dancing shadows on the cave walls, revealing the rough shape of our battered bodies.

Each bruise and scar is a testament to defiance.

Eventually, I lean into him, letting exhaustion weigh down my eyelids.

My mind swirls with images: the clan’s twisted amphitheater, my unstoppable magic bursting forth, his wings shattering.

Then I see him cradling me after the final blow, telling me we are free. That last moment defined everything.

For so long, we both served masters who treated us as tools—dark elves or the gargoyle Alpha.

No more. We’ve rescued each other from that yoke, forging an alliance that no chain or collar can break.

My chest warms with pride and love as I realize that in saving him, I saved myself.

And in saving me, he discovered a life beyond the clan’s tyranny.

He shifts beside me, wincing at the movement.

“Elyria,” he murmurs, drowsy. “When… I can walk better… we’ll keep going…

find a real home.” His words slur with fatigue.

My heart aches at his vulnerability, yet also brims with hope.

A real home—someplace the clan’s claws can’t reach us, where my magic can be used gently, not in desperation.

“Yes,” I whisper, smoothing a hand over his hair. “We will. I promise.”

A small, content sound escapes him. His eyes flutter shut.

I watch the flicker of the fire dance across his face, tears silently falling.

We’re battered, haunted, and uncertain, but we remain free.

My stomach twists with the knowledge that gargoyles or dark elves might soon come for us.

But for tonight, in this hush of the cave, we’ve won a battle that nearly killed us.

My magic, his sacrifice, our love forging a path the old tyrannies can’t control.

Outside, the wind hushes across the stone slopes, stars drifting overhead in a sky we can’t fully see from the cave’s mouth.

Even so, I sense them shining, a quiet testament to possibility.

Our future remains precarious, but we face it hand in hand.

I nestle closer to Korrin, letting sleep edge in.

If danger arrives, I’ll wake, if my magic doesn’t sense it first. For now, I trust in the fragile peace of night.

We have survived the worst of clan and elf.

We’re battered, broken-winded, but defiant.

If they come again, we’ll stand together.

If my purna power stirs, I’ll harness it for us, not for them.

Because no chain or wing can define us now—we define ourselves in love and rebellion, forging a new road in these savage mountains, unshackled by the masters we once served.

And as I drift into restless dreams, Korrin’s heartbeat against my shoulder, I dare to imagine a life beyond constant flight—a life where we rebuild from the ruins they left us. Where no Alpha or dark elf can claim dominion over our hearts. Where love transcends even the darkest nights of the soul.