Page 11 of Feral Gods

As if summoned by his words, Thane strides into the hall from one of the side corridors.

He's replaced his blood-stained chest harness with fresh leather straps that cross his broad torso, supporting a pair of wicked-looking blades strapped to his back.

His crimson eyes gleam with anticipation for the coming hunt.

"The eastern tunnel is clear," he reports. "I should reach their position an hour after full dark."

"Remember the objective," Ravik cautions. "Disrupt, delay, gather intelligence. Do not engage their full force."

Thane's lip curls in a snarl of impatience. "I know my task, Commander. I'm not a fledgling warrior on his first raid."

"Yet you act with a fledgling's recklessness," Ravik counters, his wings mantling slightly in a clear display of dominance. "Your bloodlust could jeopardize us all."

"My bloodlust?" Thane stalks closer, his massive form vibrating with barely restrained aggression. "I am not the one growing soft over a human slave. Perhaps your judgment is more compromised than mine."

The temperature in the room seems to plummet despite the roaring fire. Ravik's amber eyes blaze like molten metal as he steps toward Thane, claws flexing at his sides. "Choose your next words with extreme care."

I set my plate aside and rise quickly, alarm surging through me. The last thing we need is the gargoyles turning on each other when danger looms so close outside our walls. Without thinking, I step between them, a fragile human barrier between two titans of living stone.

"Stop," I command, surprising myself with the authority in my voice. "This isn't helping any of us."

For a tense moment, I fear they'll simply continue their confrontation with me caught in the middle. Then Zephyr moves to my side, adding his support to my intervention.

"Kaia speaks wisdom," he says quietly. "Division serves only our enemies."

Ravik's gaze shifts from Thane to me, something unreadable flickering in their amber depths. Gradually, the tension in his massive frame eases, though his wings remain partially extended in warning.

"The eastern tunnel at dusk, as agreed," he says to Thane, his voice deceptively calm. "Return before dawn."

Thane inclines his head in reluctant acknowledgment, his crimson eyes still smoldering with suppressed rage. He turns to leave, then pauses, glancing back at me with an expression I can't quite decipher.

"Bold move, little human," he rumbles. "Stepping between two gargoyles on the verge of combat. Either very brave or very foolish."

"I've found those qualities often overlap," I reply steadily, holding his gaze.

Something that might almost be respect flickers across his harsh features before he departs, the sound of his heavy footsteps fading down the corridor.

Once he's gone, I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. My hands tremble slightly with the aftermath of adrenaline, and I clasp them together to hide the reaction.

"That was unnecessarily reckless," Ravik growls, though his anger seems to have cooled to smoldering embers rather than open flame.

"But effective," Zephyr notes with a hint of amusement. "Few would dare intervene between two gargoyles in such a state."

I shrug, returning to my abandoned meal though my appetite has diminished. "I've had practice mediating disputes. Lord Vathren's daughters were... temperamental."

"You were a mediator among your masters?" Zephyr asks, settling gracefully beside me on the stone bench.

"More of a convenient target who learned to deflect attention," I admit. "When Lady Seleine and Lady Morvaine argued, their father would punish whichever servant was nearest if the disturbance interrupted his work. I became quite skilled at calming tensions before they escalated."

Ravik studies me with renewed interest. "A survival skill that proved useful today."

"I have many such skills," I reply, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice.

"Slaves aren't permitted the luxury of specialization.

We must be whatever our masters require at any given moment—invisible when convenient, efficient when needed, and always, always careful not to seem too intelligent or capable. "

My words hang in the air, more revealing than I'd intended.

Six years of forced subservience have left their mark on me, a constant calculation of what behaviors will least likely result in punishment.

Even now, in relative safety, I find myself watching the gargoyles for signs of displeasure, ready to adjust my words or actions accordingly.

Zephyr tilts his head, regarding me with scholarly interest. "Yet you maintained your sense of self despite such conditions. Remarkable."

"Necessity, not strength," I demur, uncomfortable with his praise. "When everything else is taken from you, your thoughts become the only possession they can't confiscate."

"Unless they employ a psionic practitioner," Ravik points out darkly. "Some dark elf houses keep such individuals to ensure absolute loyalty from valuable slaves."

I suppress a shudder at the thought. "Lord Vathren considered such practices distasteful. 'Why waste magic on creatures who can be controlled through simpler means?' he would say."

"Charming," Zephyr murmurs.

"How did you come to serve in his household?" Ravik asks, his tone carefully neutral.

The question stirs memories I've tried to suppress—the slave market, the auction block, my mother's face contorted with grief as we were separated. I stare into the magical flames, gathering my thoughts before responding.

"I was taken from a human settlement near the border of Pyrthos and Orthani," I begin, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. "A raiding party from Liiandor attacked without warning. I was twelve. My mother and I were separated at the slave market in Liiandor. I never saw her again."

I pause, surprised at how clinical I sound recounting such trauma. Perhaps emotional distance is another survival mechanism.

"Lord Vathren purchased me as a companion for his youngest daughter, Lady Morvaine. She was cruel but predictable—pinches and slaps when displeased, occasional burns from candle wax when particularly angry. Nothing compared to what the kitchen slaves endured under the cook's discipline."

Ravik's expression darkens, the runes etched into his obsidian skin pulsing with suppressed emotion. "And yet you bear no visible scars."

"Valuable house slaves aren't marked visibly," I explain. "It offends the aesthetic sensibilities of noble guests. Our punishments are designed to leave no lasting evidence."

"Efficient brutality," Zephyr observes, his scholarly detachment failing to mask the disgust in his voice. "A refinement of cruelty since our time."

"Not everything has evolved for the worse," I add, feeling compelled to provide a complete picture.

"The treatment of humans varies widely between kingdoms. In Pyrthos, under King Throsh, some humans have achieved positions of limited authority.

And in Vhoig, I heard rumors of a noble who took a human woman as his actual mate. "

"Fascinating," Zephyr leans forward, clearly intrigued by this sociological development. "Such relationships would have been unthinkable in our era."

"They're still scandalous now," I assure him. "But there's a sort of perverse fashion to it among certain circles of the nobility. Taking a human lover is seen as exotic, daring."

Ravik makes a sound of contempt. "Pets, not partners."

"Yes," I agree, unable to maintain eye contact with him. "Though I sometimes wondered if the humans in such arrangements might still prefer that life to the alternatives available to them. I would like to believe that even in Protheka, some humans have found genuine love with their masters."

A heavy silence falls over the hall, broken only by the crackling of the magical fire. I've said too much, revealed too many vulnerabilities. Old habits warn me to retreat, to make myself smaller and less noticeable until the moment passes.

Instead, I rise and gather my empty plate. "I should finish preparing my quarters before it grows too late."

"I will accompany you," Ravik announces, surprising both Zephyr and myself. "The temple contains chambers and passages we haven't yet secured. It would be unwise for you to wander alone."

I know better than to argue with that tone, though I suspect his concern has as much to do with keeping me under observation as with my safety. I nod my acquiescence and bid Zephyr goodnight before following Ravik back through the winding corridors to my small chamber.

The journey passes in silence, but not an uncomfortable one. Ravik's presence beside me feels oddly reassuring despite his intimidating nature. When we reach my quarters, I'm pleased to see that the shaft of sunlight has been replaced by moonlight, casting a silvery glow across the now-clean floor.

"It's perfect," I say, genuinely pleased with my modest accomplishment. "A space of my own, however temporary."

Ravik lingers in the doorway, seeming reluctant to enter the small chamber again. "I will be nearby if you require anything. The adjacent hall contains my own quarters."

The thought of him sleeping so close sends an unexpected flutter through my stomach. "Thank you. For everything."

He inclines his head slightly, the moonlight catching on his spiraling horns. "Rest well, little Kaia. Tomorrow may bring challenges we cannot yet anticipate."

As he turns to leave, I'm struck by a sudden impulse. "Ravik?"

He pauses, glancing back with those burning amber eyes that seem to see straight through me.

"What you said earlier, about no one taking me back to Liiandor while you draw breath... did you mean it?"

His expression softens almost imperceptibly. "I do not make promises lightly. When I give my word, it is absolute."

With that, he departs, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the moonlight streaming through the high window. I arrange the furs and blankets on my stone bed, creating a nest more comfortable than any sleeping place I've had since being taken from my village.

As I settle into this first night in my own private space, I find my thoughts returning to the three gargoyles who now control my fate.

Zephyr with his scholarly patience and unexpected kindness.

Thane with his barely restrained ferocity and grudging respect.

And Ravik—commanding, protective, and stirring feelings in me I scarcely understand.

They are not human. They are not even dark elves anymore, though they once were.

They are something other, something powerful and dangerous and beautiful in their terrifying way.

I should fear them more than I do. Perhaps I would, if I hadn't spent the last six years learning that the most elegantly civilized beings on Protheka can harbor the greatest capacity for cruelty.

I drift toward sleep, wrapped in borrowed furs in my stone chamber, conscious of Ravik's presence somewhere nearby. For the first time since fleeing Liiandor, I allow myself to hope that perhaps I've found not just sanctuary, but something I'd long ago stopped believing in.

Safety. Respect. And possibly, in time, something more.

A foolish thought, perhaps. But in this moment, between waking and dreaming, I permit myself the luxury of foolishness. Tomorrow will bring reality soon enough.