Page 50 of Feral Gods

Before Zephyr can respond, a disturbance ripples through the chamber—a wave of magical energy that disturbs even Morwen's projection. Her form flickers momentarily as her attention clearly diverts elsewhere.

"Ah," she murmurs, pleasure evident in her tone. "It appears King Kres has finally located your physical sanctuary. How convenient."

Alarm surges through me. "What have you done?"

"Merely fulfilled my part of our arrangement. I locate you through our blood connection, he provides the military force to secure you." Her smile turns predatory. "A mutually beneficial alliance, despite our races' traditional enmity."

At the chamber entrance, Ravik and Thane snap to alertness, sensing the approaching threat. They move toward us with urgent purpose, weapons drawn, transformed bodies primed for combat.

"We have company," Ravik announces grimly, amber eyes narrowing at the sight of Morwen's projection. "Magical barriers breached at the upper entrance. Dark elf elite guard descending rapidly."

"How many?" Zephyr demands.

"At least twenty, with more following." Ravik's gaze never leaves Morwen's translucent form. "I see you've been entertaining our enemy."

"Not by choice," I assure him, moving to his side. "She penetrated our defenses through our blood connection."

Thane positions himself at the chamber's entrance, massive copper-hued body blocking the narrow passage. "We can hold this position temporarily, but we're effectively cornered unless there's another exit."

"There isn't," Zephyr confirms, frustration evident in his voice. "The Heart Chamber was designed as a sanctuary of last resort, not an escape route."

Morwen's laugh draws our attention back to her shimmering projection. "How delightful. The mighty gargoyles, trapped like crystal rats in a mining shaft. Perhaps you should have studied the chamber's design more thoroughly before leading your little human into such a perfect cage."

Before any of us can respond, the distant sound of combat echoes down the passage—steel against stone, battle cries in the ancient dark elf tongue, magical discharges that shake dust from the chamber ceiling.

"They're here," Thane growls, crimson eyes gleaming with battle-readiness despite the dire circumstances.

"And so am I," comes a new voice—masculine, cultured, dripping with cruel amusement.

A second projection materializes beside Morwen's—tall, elegant, with the unmistakable white hair and violet eyes of dark elf nobility. His features, beautiful in the cold way of his race, arrange themselves in an expression of smug triumph as his gaze falls on me.

King Kres. My former owner. The architect of years of degradation and pain.

"My precious little pet," he purrs, the familiar endearment sending ice through my veins. "How troublesome you've become. And how predictable, seeking shelter with these abominations."

Ravik's growl reverberates through the chamber, deep and dangerous. "Speak to her like that again, and I will personally separate your head from your shoulders, Your Majesty ."

"Bold threats from a creature trapped in its own sanctuary," Kres replies, unmoved. "But then, you always were overconfident, Commander Ravik. It's what made your betrayal so unexpected—and your punishment so satisfying."

The revelation startles me. "You knew each other? Before?"

"Oh yes," Kres confirms, violet eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure.

"Your protective gargoyle once commanded my personal guard—the most trusted of my elite warriors.

Until he chose honor over loyalty and tried to warn my enemies of my plans.

" His smile widens. "A mistake he paid for with centuries of conscious imprisonment. "

Ravik's expression remains impassive, but I feel the tension radiating from his transformed body. "I chose right over wrong. A distinction your corrupt mind never grasped."

"Morality is luxury afforded to those without vision," Kres dismisses.

"But we needn't rehash ancient history. The present offers more immediate concerns.

" His projection turns to me, gaze calculating.

"You've caused quite the inconvenience, little one.

Awakening these three was troublesome enough.

Discovering this chamber of stone warriors? Potentially catastrophic."

"For your reign, perhaps," I counter, standing taller despite the fear churning in my stomach. "Not for those you've enslaved and oppressed."

"Such righteous indignation from one who understood her place so perfectly in my household.

" His smile turns nostalgic. "Remember how beautifully you served, how eagerly you anticipated my every need?

We can return to that harmony, pet. Just surrender now, come willingly, and I'll consider sparing your stone protectors. "

The memory of that servitude—the daily humiliations, the constant fear, the surrender of self—threatens to overwhelm me. But something has changed since I fled through snow and darkness weeks ago. I am no longer the terrified slave who believed herself worthless beyond her utility to her master.

"I would rather die standing than live on my knees ever again," I declare, magic flaring around my hands in response to my emotion. "And I am not your pet."

Kres sighs dramatically. "Disappointing, but not unexpected given your recent... associations." His gaze shifts to Morwen. "It appears we must proceed with the alternative approach."

The purna Matriarch nods, her projection moving closer to the crystal pool. "Indeed. Though I would have preferred voluntary cooperation, blood calls to blood regardless of the vessel's willingness."

As she speaks, the pendant against my chest grows painfully hot. Magenta energy surges from it, flowing outward to create a pulsing connection between me and Morwen's projection. Through this unwanted link, I feel her immense power—cold, calculated, terrifyingly precise in its application.

"What are you doing?" I gasp, trying unsuccessfully to sever the connection.

"Claiming what is mine by right of blood," she replies calmly. "Your power flows from my lineage, child. Did you truly believe it came without obligations?"

The magical tether strengthens, drawing energy from me with inexorable force. My knees buckle as weakness spreads through my limbs. Zephyr catches me before I hit the ground, his transformed features tight with concern.

"Resistance only increases the drain," Morwen observes dispassionately. "Submit, and the process becomes far less painful."

Through the passage comes the sound of battle intensifying—the elite guard clearly engaging with traps Thane laid during our descent. But they're getting closer, the intervals between skirmishes shortening as they overcome each obstacle.

"We're out of time," Thane announces, backing from the entrance to join our defensive circle. "They'll breach the final barrier within minutes."

Ravik moves to stand before me, physically blocking Morwen's projection as if his body could interrupt the magical connection. "Release her," he demands, voice deadly quiet. "Or I swear by the ancient powers, I will find a way to make your actual death last decades."

"Such passion," Morwen mocks. "Such futile devotion to a bloodline that was never yours to claim."

As they face off, I feel something shift within the crystal pool—a response to the heightened emotions and magical energies filling the chamber. The blue light pulses faster, more urgently, as if seeking connection.

Understanding blossoms suddenly, intuitive rather than intellectual.

The Heart Chamber doesn't just contain resurrection magic—it is resurrection magic.

Not a place but an entity, ancient and aware, responding to the convergence of needed elements: purna blood, transformed beings, and desperate need.

I meet Zephyr's eyes, seeing the same realization dawning in his turquoise gaze. He nods slightly, understanding passing between us without words.

"Morwen," I call, straightening despite the ongoing energy drain. "You claim my power comes with obligation to my bloodline."

"As all inherited gifts do," she confirms smoothly. "Power without purpose is merely potential squandered."

"Then I claim that same principle applies to you." I take a deliberate step toward her projection, breaking Ravik's protective stance. "As my ancestress, you have obligations to me as well."

This unexpected approach gives her pause. Her projection flickers slightly as her concentration wavers. "An interesting perspective, if fundamentally flawed. I am Matriarch. You are descendant. The obligation flows in one direction only."

"That's not how family works," I counter, taking another step forward despite the magical tether draining my strength. "Even in dark elf society, even among the purna, ancestral responsibility to descendants remains sacred. Or do you reject the very traditions you claim to uphold?"

A flash of uncertainty crosses her perfect features—the first crack in her composure. "You know nothing of our traditions."

"I know enough to recognize hypocrisy when I see it." Another step forward, each movement requiring greater effort as the drain intensifies. "You demand my submission based on blood connection while abdicating your own responsibility to protect your lineage."

King Kres's projection moves closer to Morwen's, his expression darkening. "Enough of this philosophical debate. My forces have nearly breached the chamber. End her resistance now."

"Silence," Morwen snaps, her focus remaining on me. "The child raises an interesting point about reciprocal obligation." Her head tilts, studying me with new calculation. "What exactly do you propose, great-granddaughter?"

The sound of battle grows louder—metal against stone, magical discharges, the distinctive battle-cries of dark elf elite guard. Minutes at most before they break through.