Page 7

I slip behind a massive tree trunk, pressing my back to the bark.

My chain rattles softly. I grit my teeth, straining my ears.

More snapping twigs, the hush of parted foliage.

I risk a peek around the trunk, expecting dark elf scouts with crossbows.

Instead, I see a pair of large boars, snuffling among the brambles. My entire body sags with relief.

But that relief is short-lived. A rumble overhead makes me jerk my gaze skyward. The clouds are still heavy and gray, promising more storms, but… I sense something. A shift in the air, a ripple of power. Am I imagining it?

I brush off the feeling and limp onward. Thorns slash at my ankles, drawing thin lines of blood. I can’t help noticing how loud I seem compared to the hush of the forest—breathing heavily, chain clanking, stepping on dead leaves. A child could follow my trail. But I have to keep going.

Eventually, the ground evens out, and I come across a rough path—likely a game trail used by forest creatures.

It weaves through towering pines, each trunk shrouded in moss.

I pause, leaning on a tree for support as I catch my breath.

My ankle throbs like it’s on fire, my lungs burning from the frantic run.

I did it. I’m free of the fortress, for now. But the question churns in my gut: Am I actually safer here?

The dark elves might still hunt me. Worse yet, the gargoyles are scouring the countryside, killing any human woman they find. The forest might hide me from one threat, only to deliver me into the jaws of another.

But at least I have a chance.

Rain starts again, a gentle patter that seeps into my ragged clothes. My collar is cold against my neck. If I had any illusions about my situation, they fade with the next flash of lightning overhead. I’m alone. Injured. No supplies, no real plan. The wilderness doesn’t care if I live or die.

I half-limp, half-walk along the narrow trail, letting my instincts guide me. At least the fortress is behind me. Maybe if I stay hidden in the depths of the forest, the dark elves won’t bother chasing me all that far, especially with gargoyles looming overhead.

A vivid memory from the courtyard floods my mind: a silhouette in the sky, wings spread wide, eyes possibly meeting mine. A shiver crawls down my spine. Something about that instant felt electric, like a thread of awareness connecting me to… whoever that gargoyle was.

My cheeks burn. It’s absurd to imagine any sense of connection with a murderous gargoyle.

My entire life, I’ve heard how savage they are, how they hate humans, especially women—potential purna.

Yet the memory won’t leave. Am I drawn to him because I sense that my fate and his are intertwined? Or am I simply imagining things?

The path twists downhill, leading to a shallow stream. I’m careful on the slick rocks, wincing as I test each step with my injured ankle. The chain around my collar drags in the mud, but at least there’s enough slack for me to move freely. I wish I could break it off.

I kneel by the water, cupping my hands to drink.

The cold liquid soothes my parched throat.

I wash the blood off my palms and arms, hissing when the water hits scrapes and cuts.

Then I try to rinse the dirt off the iron collar as best I can—pointless, but it makes me feel fractionally less like a slave.

A crash in the underbrush makes me freeze mid-motion. I spin, water sloshing between my fingers. The boars again? Or… something else?

I hold my breath, listening to the hush of the trees.

A large shape looms between the trunks. My pulse rockets.

For a split second, I expect to see a gargoyle.

But the silhouette is too squat, too graceless.

Then it moves into a patch of weak daylight, and I see it’s a dark elf, one of the fortress scouts, accompanied by a mangy hound straining at a leash.

My stomach drops. They tracked me.

Before I can react, the hound lets out a baying bark and lunges toward me. The dark elf points a short spear, his face twisted with triumph. “There you are,” he snarls, eyes sweeping over me like I’m a prize.

I scramble to my feet, adrenaline spiking. My ankle threatens to buckle. The hound advances, snarling, eyes red with that same dark magic I’ve seen in the fortress kennels. Fear shrieks through me. I glance around—no weapon in sight.

The elf steps closer, spear raised. His voice drips with malice. “You murdered one of our own, slave. Now you’ll die like the dog you are.”

I try to back away, but the hound rushes forward, forcing me to dodge. My foot slips in the mud, sending a spike of agony through my injured ankle. I cry out, barely keeping my balance. The collar’s chain clinks around me, tangling my arms. The elf laughs.

He lunges with the spear. I sidestep, heart pounding. The hound snaps at my legs. I can’t keep this up. My eyes dart around, searching desperately for an escape route. The stream behind me. A cluster of boulders to my right. Dense undergrowth to my left.

“Trying to run again?” the elf taunts, cutting off my path. “I’ll take pleasure in dragging you back by your hair.”

The hound snarls, saliva dripping from its jaws. Despair wells in my chest. I escaped only to be recaptured. Why did I think I stood a chance?

Suddenly, a deafening roar splits the air overhead—like thunder, but more immediate. The dark elf’s gloating expression falters. We both look up. A vast shape plummets through the canopy, scattering branches and leaves. For a heartbeat, I don’t believe my eyes. A gargoyle.

He lands with enough force to rattle the ground, wings half-furled around a muscular body of stone-like flesh. My breath lodges in my throat. This gargoyle is massive—taller than any creature I’ve seen. His molten gold eyes slash across the clearing, taking in the scene.

The dark elf curses, stumbling back, spear aimed warily at the newcomer. The hound growls, but its hackles rise with uncertain fear. Why is a gargoyle here?

The gargoyle’s gaze flicks to me, our eyes lock. My pulse pounds in my temples, dizzying. For an instant, I forget to breathe. There’s a flash of recognition that sends a jolt through my entire body. I swear I’ve seen him before.

He snarls, turning on the elf with lethal intent. The elf thrusts the spear, but the gargoyle swats it aside like a twig, then sends the hound flying with one swipe of his powerful tail. The dog yelps, crashing into a tree trunk. The dark elf tries to retreat, panic contorting his features.

A blur of movement and the gargoyle’s claws close around the elf’s throat. A wet gasp, a sickening crunch, and it’s over. The elf slumps to the ground, limp. All I can do is stand there, trembling, as the gargoyle’s chest heaves with battle fury.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. The forest seems to hold its breath.

My ankle throbs, my chain rattles, and the gargoyle’s molten stare is locked on me.

I sense raw power rolling off him in waves, a predatory aura that should terrify me.

And it does , but something else flickers inside me—an undeniable pull, a strange ache.

Am I next? The stories say gargoyles cull human women. Yet he doesn’t lunge, doesn’t snap my neck. He just stands there, muscles tense, as if fighting some inner struggle.

My heart is pounding so hard I can scarcely think. I can almost feel his breath, see the faint shift of his wings. A thousand questions swirl in my head, but I can’t shape a single word.

With a low, guttural sound, more a growl than a voice—he jerks his head, as if telling me to run. Or maybe it’s a challenge. I can’t tell. My knees threaten to give out. My fear wars with an inexplicable surge of gratitude. He saved me, but why?

Behind us, the hound lets out a pitiful whimper, still alive but injured. The gargoyle flicks a glance at it, then back to me. I half-expect him to finish off the beast, but instead, he steps away, giving me space.

Am I free to go?

Every instinct screams that I should dash into the forest—away from this monstrous creature. And yet, something in his eyes holds me transfixed. They aren’t mindless or purely predatory. They’re… haunted. Conflicted.

Thunder growls overhead again, making me flinch. My ankle aches, fresh blood trickling down my calf. I’m not in any shape to outrun a gargoyle, if that’s even possible.

He takes a slow step toward me, hands loose at his sides, claws glinting. My chain rattles as I instinctively shift back, fear raw in my throat. The gargoyle’s nostrils flare, as though he can scent my terror.

Then his gaze drops to my collar and the looped chain. His jaw tightens, a flicker of rage crossing his face. He looks from the collar to my eyes, and I’m too stunned to speak. Does he… pity me? Or is he angry that the dark elves beat him to enslaving me first?

I realize my breathing has become shallow.

Adrenaline, pain, and confusion swirl in my veins.

He could kill me with a single swipe. He might do so any second.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he slowly backs away, giving a low rumble deep in his chest—like he’s wrestling with impulses he can’t fully control.

My lips part, but no words come out. My mind screams a thousand questions. The gargoyle glances once at the dead elf, then at me. It’s almost like he’s making sure I see that I’m no longer in danger from that threat. A wave of dizziness washes over me.

In that instant of hesitation, he crouches, wings unfolding. They’re enormous, spanning at least fourteen feet. He leaps upward, muscles bunching, and surges above the canopy with a rush of wind. Leaves and branches shake from the force of his takeoff. Then he’s gone, vanishing into the stormy sky.

I stagger, rubbing my fingers on my temple. The forest is silent except for the whimpering hound and my own ragged breath. The gargoyle… spared me. Why?

My shoulder throbs, my ankle pulses with pain. Blood trickles down my leg, and the adrenaline crash leaves me trembling violently. I kneel by the stream, mind spinning.

What just happened?

I’ve dreamed of a chance at freedom, but never did I expect a gargoyle to appear out of nowhere and save me from a dark elf’s blade. Maybe “save” is the wrong word. He might have only killed the elf for reasons of his own, not caring about me at all. But then, why didn’t he kill me afterward?

My eyes sting with sudden tears. Exhaustion and pain drive me to the edge of despair. I don’t know how I’ll survive out here, with slavers on my trail and gargoyles patrolling the skies. Yet I’m alive. That’s a victory in itself.

Above, the clouds churn, thunder rumbling like a distant heartbeat. I carefully lower myself to the ground, pressing my forehead against a damp log to steady my breathing. One step at a time. I’m out of the fortress, free if only for a moment.

But as I rest my head, I can’t stop picturing those golden eyes meeting mine. Something about that brief connection burns in my mind, fueling me with a desperate spark of… hope? Curiosity? I hate myself for it. He’s a monster, Elyria. A monster who kills women like me without hesitation.

Yet he didn’t.

Through the haze of pain and uncertainty, I wonder if outrunning the gargoyles is truly possible—or if I’ve already drawn the attention of one gargoyle in particular. Am I simply stumbling from one danger into another?

I bite my lip, letting the cold rain pelt my shoulders. My thoughts swirl, frantic and breathless. There’s no going back now. I won’t return to that fortress. I’d rather face the wilderness, the darkness, even gargoyles themselves.

I will survive, I vow silently, ignoring the tears on my cheeks. Even if I have to face him again.

A gust of wind rattles the branches overhead, showering me with droplets. I steel myself. I’m on the run, battered but still breathing. Whether the gargoyle truly spared me or merely postponed my fate, I can’t say.

But I’m free.

For now.