Page 18 of Feral Gods

KAIA

" A bsolutely not," Ravik's voice booms through the temple's main chamber, the sound reverberating off ancient stone walls like thunder trapped in a mountain pass.

His wings flare wide, obsidian skin gleaming in the blue glow of the neptherium lanterns Zephyr reactivated yesterday.

"The forest encounter only confirms what I've been saying—she stays within the sanctuary's walls. "

I stand near the stone hearth, fingers pressed against the warm granite as three gargoyles—each twice my size and infinitely more powerful—argue over my fate as if I'm not present.

Four days ago, I might have remained silent, head bowed in the practiced submission of a slave. But I am no longer that person.

"And what happens when your precious walls fail?" Thane challenges, crimson eyes flashing as he tosses the purna's leather pouch onto the ancient map table. "The witch tracked us for miles without detection. She could have struck at any moment."

"But she didn't," Zephyr interjects, his silver-gray form more fluid than the others as he examines the pouch without touching it directly. "Which suggests observation rather than immediate threat."

"Or strategic patience," Ravik counters, amber gaze flicking momentarily to where I stand before returning to Thane. "First dark elf scouts, now purna witches. The sanctuary is our strongest position."

Thane's massive fist slams against the stone table, sending centuries-old dust spiraling into the air. "The sanctuary is a trap without escape routes! You would have us cornered like prey?"

"I would have us fortified like warriors," Ravik snarls, the runes etched across his chest pulsing with golden light that matches his eyes. "Or have you forgotten how easily the vrakken overwhelmed scattered forces?"

I've learned enough about their past to understand the barb strikes deep. Before their transformation and curse, the gargoyles were elite dark elf warriors who witnessed the devastating effectiveness of vrakken battle tactics against isolated units.

"That was different," Thane growls, wings partially extending in challenge.

"Was it?" Ravik steps closer, using his slightly greater height to loom over Thane. "The purna nearly destroyed us once through division. I will not allow it again."

The tension crackles between them like lightning seeking ground, primal and dangerous.

I've seen Lord Vathren's guards come to blows over lesser disagreements, and they lacked the supernatural strength these gargoyles possess.

If this escalates to physical confrontation, the damage could be catastrophic—to them and to our sanctuary.

"Stop," I command, surprised by the authority in my own voice as I step forward. "Both of you."

Three pairs of inhuman eyes swivel toward me—amber, crimson, and turquoise—all widening slightly at my intervention.

"This isn't about ancient battles or proving dominance," I continue, heart pounding but voice steady. "This is about survival—mine and yours. And I should have a say in strategies that concern my safety."

Ravik's expression darkens. "You don't understand the?—"

"I understand more than you think," I interrupt, something I would never have dared with Lord Vathren or any dark elf master.

"I survived six years in a household where one wrong glance could mean a whipping.

I navigated political currents you can't imagine, invisible but watching, learning which nobles would kill for a whispered secret and which guards could be trusted not to 'sample the merchandise' when no one was looking. "

My words hang in the air, heavy with implications none of us have openly acknowledged. Zephyr's expression softens with something like compassion, while Thane's eyes narrow with renewed appraisal. Only Ravik remains impassive, though a muscle ticks along his stone-like jaw.

"I agree the sanctuary offers protection," I continue, moderating my tone. "But Thane is right—we need escape routes, contingency plans. The dark elves mapped these mountains centuries ago. If King Kres commits his full forces, one entrance means one point of failure."

Zephyr nods approvingly. "The eastern tunnels could be cleared relatively quickly. They lead to a ravine beyond the likely perimeter of any siege forces."

"And leave us exposed in unfamiliar territory," Ravik counters, though his posture has relaxed incrementally. "With a human who cannot fly, cannot fight, and possesses magic she can neither control nor understand."

His dismissal of my capabilities ignites something molten in my chest—not mere anger but a deeper indignation born of years being underestimated and objectified.

"I may not have wings or claws," I reply, approaching the map table with deliberate steps, "but I am not helpless. I escaped the most heavily guarded city on Protheka during its most important festival. I survived Causadurn Ridge in a blizzard. And I broke a curse that held for centuries."

I spread my hands over the ancient map, tracing mountain passes and ravines with fingers that no longer tremble in the presence of these powerful beings.

"I don't need to be carried like a child or hidden away like a treasure. I need to be prepared—armed with knowledge, skills, and yes, eventually control over whatever magic flows in my blood."

The chamber falls silent as my declaration settles among us.

In the quiet, I become acutely aware of how close I stand to Ravik, close enough to feel the heat emanating from his massive form, to see the intricate patterns etched into his obsidian skin.

Despite his frustrating protectiveness, I cannot deny the flutter in my stomach when those amber eyes focus solely on me.

Before anyone can respond, a high-pitched tone cuts through the tension—a keening sound emanating from the neptherium nodes embedded in the temple walls. The blue glow intensifies, pulsing in a distinct pattern.

"Perimeter breach," Zephyr announces, already moving toward the entrance hall. "Northwestern quadrant. Multiple signatures."

"How many?" Ravik demands, all personal conflict forgotten as he shifts seamlessly into combat readiness.

Zephyr presses his palm against a pulsing sigil carved into the wall. "Eight... no, twelve distinct entities. Moving quickly, in formation."

"Elite guard," Thane growls, retrieving twin blades from where they rest against a stone column. "Not scouts this time."

Ravik's wings flare wide as he issues commands with practiced efficiency. "Zephyr, inner defenses. Thane, western approach." His gaze falls on me, hesitating only briefly. "Kaia, to the inner sanctum."

Part of me wants to argue, to insist on helping defend our home. But I recognize the pragmatic truth—I would be more hindrance than help in direct combat against trained dark elf warriors. Instead, I nod and move toward the corridor leading deeper into the temple.

Ravik catches my arm as I pass, his massive hand gentle despite its deadly capability. "Stay within the warded chamber. If we fall?—"

"You won't," I interrupt, surprising myself by placing my palm against his chest, feeling the living stone warm beneath my touch. "But if things go badly, I'll remember the eastern tunnels."

Something flickers in his amber eyes—respect, perhaps, or possibly something deeper. He nods once, then releases me, turning to join Thane at the sanctuary's entrance.

I hurry through winding corridors, deeper into the mountain temple. The inner sanctum Zephyr prepared glows with protective sigils—some ancient, others newly activated by my inadvertent magic two days ago. The small chamber feels secure but confining, a gilded cage regardless of its necessity.

From this depth, I cannot hear the sounds of battle directly, but the temple itself seems to resonate with distant impacts.

I pace the perimeter, examining each symbol etched into the walls.

Some now feel familiar, their purpose almost intuitive after Zephyr's patient instruction.

Others remain mysterious, their magic humming just beyond my comprehension.

I don't know how much time passes—minutes or hours—before the chamber door bursts open. Thane fills the entrance, his iron-black skin streaked with what can only be dark elf blood, crimson eyes blazing with battle-fury.

"We need to move," he announces without preamble. "They've breached the main hall."

My heart stutters. "Ravik? Zephyr?"

"Holding the secondary position." He extends a clawed hand. "Come. Quickly."

I take his hand without hesitation, noting how carefully he adjusts his grip to avoid injuring me with talons that just moments ago were likely tearing through dark elf armor. He leads me through unfamiliar passages, descending rather than climbing.

"Where are we going?" I ask, struggling to keep pace with his longer strides.

"Deeper sanctuary." His voice is clipped, focused. "Ancient chamber Zephyr discovered yesterday. Heavily warded."

We round a corner and nearly collide with Zephyr, whose silver-gray form bears fewer battle marks than Thane's but radiates exhaustion. The scholarly gargoyle's turquoise eyes brighten at the sight of me.

"Good. This way." He gestures toward a narrow staircase cut directly into the mountain stone. "The chamber below connects to the eastern tunnels if necessary."

"Ravik?" I ask again, unaccountably worried for the alpha gargoyle despite his overwhelming power.

"Covering our retreat," Zephyr answers, his expression tightening. "He insisted on being the last defense."

Something cold settles in my stomach at these words. "We need to help him."

"We need to protect you," Thane counters firmly. "That's what he's fighting for."

The implication—that Ravik values my safety above his own—sends a confusing mixture of warmth and dread through my body. Before I can argue further, a tremendous impact shakes the very mountain beneath us, dust and small stones raining from the ceiling.