Page 43 of Feral Gods

I can't help the small laugh that escapes me.

His expression darkens, but I quickly explain.

"Ravik, each of you offers something unique and irreplaceable.

Zephyr's intellectual connection doesn't diminish your protective strength.

Thane's warrior brotherhood doesn't overshadow your leadership.

They're different facets of connection, not competing versions of the same thing. "

He considers this, the concept clearly foreign to his experience. "Among dark elves, hierarchies are absolute. One leader. One mate. Clear lines of authority and possession."

"We're not dark elves anymore," comes Thane's deep voice from the stairway entrance.

I turn to find both Thane and Zephyr standing at the tower's threshold, having apparently followed despite my request for privacy. Before I can object, Zephyr steps forward.

"We are something new," the scholarly gargoyle says, his melodic voice thoughtful. "Our transformation was physical, yes, but perhaps more significantly psychological. We are neither fully what we were nor entirely defined by what the curse made us."

Ravik's wings shift restlessly, but he makes no move to retreat. Progress, however small.

"The curse altered more than our bodies," Zephyr continues. "It changed our fundamental nature—amplifying certain traits while diminishing others. Your protective instincts, Ravik. Thane's battle-joy. My analytical detachment. All exaggerated beyond our original personalities."

"What's your point?" Ravik demands, though without the earlier hostility.

"My point is that we've been assuming the curse's effects are immutable—that we must learn to live within its constraints.

" Zephyr moves to the ancient stone table that occupies one corner of the tower, brushing dust from its surface.

"But what if they're not? What if our connection to Kaia offers an opportunity to reshape those constraints? "

My pulse quickens at the implication. "You think the curse can be broken completely?"

"Not broken," Zephyr corrects, tracing patterns in the dust with one talon. "Transformed. Just as we were transformed."

Thane crosses his massive arms, crimson eyes narrowed in thought. "Explain."

"The purna's magic bound us to stone, yes, but more fundamentally, it bound us to isolation. Each trapped in our own consciousness, unable to form connections even with each other." Zephyr's gaze meets mine. "Until Kaia."

Ravik shifts beside me, his interest visibly overcoming his emotional withdrawal. "The woman whose blood connects to our curse."

"Precisely." Zephyr nods. "Blood calls to blood. Magic recognizes its source. When Kaia pleaded for sanctuary, her voice carried the magical signature of the very witch who cursed us."

"Morwen," I murmur, the name still strange on my tongue despite knowing it belongs to my ancestress.

"Yes." Zephyr's expression grows animated with scholarly excitement. "And now that same bloodline magic flows through you, awakened by danger and necessity. Magic that could potentially reshape the curse that binds us."

Hope flares within me—bright, dangerous, intoxicating. "You think I could free you completely? Return you to your original forms?"

All three gargoyles go still at this question, the possibility clearly having occurred to none of them.

"Would you want that?" I ask into the silence. "To return to what you were before?"

The question hangs between us, weighted with implications. After centuries trapped between forms, would they choose to revert to their original dark elf nature, abandoning the power and primal connection of their gargoyle aspects?

"No." Ravik's answer comes first, surprisingly definitive. "What I was before holds no appeal. A courtier playing political games, valuing status above honor."

"I would not return to my former self either," Zephyr admits, looking almost surprised by his own conclusion. "The detached scholar, observing life rather than experiencing it. Knowledge without application or emotion."

Thane's crimson eyes meet mine. "The warrior I was served a corrupt king without question. The being I am now chooses his own battles, his own family." He gestures to encompass all of us. "This is preferable, despite its complications."

Their unified response fills me with unexpected relief. I've come to love them as they are—powerful, primal, complex in their duality. The thought of losing these aspects of their nature creates an ache beneath my breastbone.

"Then what transformation do you envision?" I ask Zephyr.

"Control," he replies simply. "Mastery over the transformation, rather than being trapped in either form. The power to shift between stone and flesh at will, rather than being bound to daylight or darkness. Freedom from the curse's emotional amplification without losing the strength it granted."

Ravik's amber eyes narrow thoughtfully. "And you believe Kaia's magic could accomplish this?"

"With the proper guidance, yes." Zephyr gestures toward me. "Her magical signature perfectly counterbalances the curse's construction. Where Morwen's magic constrained, Kaia's could potentially liberate."

"At what cost?" Ravik demands, protective instinct immediately surfacing. "Such magic would require enormous power. I won't allow her to endanger herself."

"Allow?" I raise an eyebrow, the word choice reigniting our earlier conflict.

Ravik catches himself, visibly adjusting. "I meant... I would not wish you to risk yourself on our behalf."

The correction, awkward but sincere, represents significant growth. I acknowledge it with a nod before turning back to Zephyr.

"What would such a transformation require?"

"Study. Preparation." His turquoise gaze grows distant, calculating. "And most importantly, absolute harmony between all participants. The magic would flow through all four of us, creating new bonds to replace the curse's constraints."

"Harmony," Thane repeats skeptically, glancing at Ravik. "After yesterday's demonstration, that seems unlikely."

Ravik straightens, wings folding tightly against his back—a posture I've come to recognize as his response to challenge. "You doubt my ability to control my nature?"

"I doubt all of our abilities to transcend what the curse has made us without help," Thane counters. "Including my own."

The honesty in his admission defuses Ravik's defensive response. After a moment, our alpha leader nods, a gesture containing more vulnerability than any words could convey.

"Then we help each other," I suggest, moving to the center of our small circle. "Each of us bringing our strengths to compensate for others' weaknesses."

"A novel concept," Zephyr muses. "Interdependence rather than hierarchy."

"More than novel," Ravik adds quietly. "Revolutionary."

The word hangs in the air between us, charged with possibility. In that moment, something shifts—a recalibration of power dynamics that have defined our interactions since the beginning. No longer protectors and protected, leaders and followers, but partners in a shared endeavor.

I extend my hands, one toward Ravik, one toward Zephyr. After a moment's hesitation, they each take one. Thane completes our circle, his massive hands engulfing theirs.

"Whatever comes," I say, feeling the distinct texture of each gargoyle's skin against mine, "we face it together. Equal voices. Equal stakes. Equal commitment."

"Equal love," Thane adds, the sentiment surprising from the typically blunt warrior.

Zephyr nods, turquoise eyes warm. "A balanced equation."

We all look to Ravik, whose amber gaze moves thoughtfully between us. The struggle plays out visibly on his features—centuries of ingrained hierarchy battling against this new paradigm.

"Equal," he finally agrees, the single word clearly costing him considerable effort. "Though old habits die reluctantly."

"We have time," I assure him, squeezing his hand.

A harsh cry from outside shatters our moment of connection. One of Ravik's fox scouts appears at the tower's open side, its message conveyed in a series of yips and growls unintelligible to me but clearly alarming to the gargoyles.

Ravik's expression transforms instantly from vulnerable to commanding. "Enemy forces have accelerated their approach. The dark elf vanguard crosses the southern ridge. Purna magical signatures detected less than a mile east."

"How long?" Thane demands, already moving toward the stairs.

"Hours, not days," Ravik replies grimly. "They move with unexpected coordination—dark elves and purna working in tandem despite centuries of mutual distrust."

"Joint operation," Zephyr murmurs, his scholarly mind already analyzing implications. "King Kres must have offered significant concessions to secure purna cooperation at this scale."

"Or they share a common goal valuable enough to override their traditional enmity," Ravik suggests, gaze shifting meaningfully to me.

The weight of his implication settles heavily in my stomach. Me. They come for me—the human slave with unexpectedly valuable blood, the descendant of their greatest witch, the key to powers I barely comprehend.

"We need to move," I say, pushing aside fear in favor of pragmatism. "This sanctuary is already compromised from your fight. We can't defend a crumbling position."

Ravik nods, leadership sitting naturally on his powerful shoulders once more. "Thane, ready our essential supplies. Zephyr, secure the most valuable texts and artifacts. We move to the secondary location within the hour."

As they turn to execute his orders, I catch his arm. "And you?"

Something flickers in his amber eyes—gratitude, perhaps, that I still seek his proximity despite yesterday's events. "I'll secure our retreat path and lay false trails to delay pursuit."

"I'm coming with you," I announce, the statement brooking no argument.

Surprise crosses his features, followed by automatic objection. "It's too dangerous?—"

"Everything is dangerous," I interrupt. "And my magic might prove useful in creating false trails."

He studies me, conflict evident in his expression. Then, surprisingly, he nods. "Stay close. Follow my lead. And if I give an order related to your safety?—"

"I'll consider it carefully," I compromise, a slight smile curving my lips.

The answering quirk of his mouth—not quite a smile but far from his usual grim expression—represents significant progress. "Acceptable. Gather your things and meet me at the eastern exit in ten minutes."

As I turn to descend the tower stairs, his voice stops me one final time.

"Kaia." When I look back, vulnerability has returned to his expression. "Thank you. For seeing possibilities where I saw only limitations."

The simple gratitude, freely given, means more than any passionate declaration. I nod, acknowledging both his words and the courage they required.

"That's what family does," I reply. "They see the best in each other, even when it's hidden."

His expression suggests I've given him something to contemplate as I descend the stairs, my steps lighter despite the looming threat.

Yes, enemies approach from two directions.

Yes, danger surrounds us on all sides. But for the first time since my desperate flight from Liiandor, I feel not just protected but empowered. Not just desired but valued.

In the broken slave girl who fled through snow and darkness, these three extraordinary beings have recognized something worth fighting for—worth changing for. And in their transformation from adversaries to protectors to lovers, I've discovered my own metamorphosis from victim to equal.

Whatever comes next—battle, magic, sacrifice—we face it not as separate individuals with conflicting needs but as a unified whole with complementary strengths.

As I gather my few possessions from the chamber Ravik and I once shared, my fingers brush the pendant we removed from the purna's pouch.

It pulses with magenta energy that matches my own, the connection to my bloodline undeniable.

For a moment, I consider leaving it behind—rejecting the heritage that makes me valuable to our enemies.

Instead, I slip it into a small leather pouch and secure it around my neck, hidden beneath my tunic. Knowledge is power, as Zephyr often reminds me. And if Morwen's blood flows through my veins, perhaps her secrets can serve my purposes rather than hers.

Outside, thunder rumbles across the mountain peaks—nature's warning of approaching storm. Or perhaps something more significant: the gathering magical energies of two ancient enemies united in common purpose.

They come for me, these powers that would use me for their own ends. They'll find instead something unprecedented on Protheka—four beings united by choice rather than circumstance, by love rather than obligation.

Let them come. We'll be ready.