Page 7 of Feral Gods

"A fate worse than death," I confirm. "We were not the first ones, though. There were those that are transformed before us,” I take a deep breath, thinking of them.

Then I continue, “We’re conscious yet immobile, aware of the passing centuries yet unable to interact with the world. Until you."

She pulls back slightly, her expression troubled. "I still don't understand how I broke your curse. I'm no one special—just a human slave with no magic, no power."

"That," I tell her, selecting another scroll from my collection, "is what puzzles me as well.

This temple was built at a convergence of ancient ley lines, designed specifically as a sanctuary for those in desperate need.

Your plea activated magic older than our curse, magic woven into the very foundations of this place. "

I unroll the new scroll, revealing a complex diagram of the temple's magical architecture. Kaia leans forward again, her curiosity evidently overcoming her wariness.

"These lines," she says, tracing a finger along the intricate patterns. "They look like the carvings on the walls of the main chamber."

Her observation is astute. "Indeed. They are conduits for magical energy, drawing power from the ley lines beneath the mountain and channeling it through the temple's defensive systems."

"And those systems are still functional? After all this time?"

"Partially," I reply. "The awakening of three gargoyles simultaneously drained significant energy from the temple's reserves. I'm working to restore them, but it will take time—time we may not have if King Kres mobilizes his forces against us."

At the mention of the king, Kaia's expression hardens. "He won't stop. Not just for a runaway slave. His pride won't allow it, especially now that you've killed his hunters."

"You know him well?"

She shakes her head. "Not personally. But his reputation is... extensive. They call him the Serpent's Chosen, the cruelest ruler in all of Protheka. Even the other dark elf kingdoms tread carefully around Liiandor."

Her knowledge of dark elf politics surprises me. "You learned much during your captivity."

"Slaves are often invisible," she explains with a shrug. "People speak freely when they think no one of consequence is listening."

A clever adaptation to her circumstances—turning her perceived insignificance into an advantage. My respect for her intelligence deepens.

"Tell me what else you know of the current political landscape," I encourage, genuinely curious about how Protheka has evolved during our imprisonment.

Kaia hesitates, likely weighing the strategic value of sharing information against keeping her knowledge as leverage. After a moment, she seems to decide in favor of cooperation.

"Liiandor remains the most powerful of the dark elf kingdoms, though Orthani challenges that position increasingly under King Rython Vatoris.

He's expanded aggressively, establishing colonies on Tlouz and in the Yacarres Isles.

" She speaks with the precision of someone who has memorized important details through careful observation.

"Pyrthos is more isolated, focused on agriculture and trade rather than conquest. King Throsh Roraelli is considered.

.. moderately less cruel to humans than the others. "

"And the other races?" I prompt, impressed by her comprehensive knowledge.

"The naga keep to Nagaland and are openly hostile to outsiders. I haven’t heard much aboutthem.

The minotaurs control trade routes through their naval power.

The manticore..." She pauses, frowning. "Actually, the manticore disappeared centuries ago.

They're believed extinct, or perhaps merely legendary. "

"Not extinct," I correct her, selecting another text from my collection. "Hidden. The manticore fled to Osiris Island after rebelling against dark elf control. Their sanctuary is protected by powerful concealment magic."

Her eyes widen. "They're real? I thought they were just stories to frighten children."

"Many truths on Protheka have been reduced to legends," I observe, thinking of our own fate. "The gargoyles, for instance."

Kaia nods thoughtfully. "What about the vrakken? The ones you fought in the Great War?"

"Retreated underground after their defeat," I reply, consulting another text.

"They established domains within the wildspont caverns beneath the mountains.

Most dark elves now believe them extinct as well, though the more knowledgeable rulers maintain precautionary warding against their potential return. "

As we continue our exchange of information, I note how quickly Kaia absorbs and processes complex concepts. Her questions are incisive, revealing a mind trained to identify crucial details amid overwhelming information—another survival adaptation, no doubt.

The time passes rapidly as we delve into histories and magical theories, until eventually I become aware of a presence at the chamber entrance. Thane leans against the doorway, his massive arms crossed over his chest, crimson eyes gleaming with

The time passes rapidly as we delve into histories and magical theories, until eventually I become aware of a presence at the chamber entrance. Thane leans against the doorway, his massive arms crossed over his chest, crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Converting the human to your scholarly obsessions, Zephyr?" he asks, his deep voice rumbling through the chamber. "Ravik sent me to inform you that the perimeter wards have been breached twice more. Small scouting parties, easily dispatched."

I frown at this news. "They're testing our defenses systematically. Classic dark elf military strategy."

"Which means they'll launch a coordinated attack once they've identified weak points," Kaia adds, earning a surprised look from Thane.

"The human understands tactical assessment?" he says, sounding almost impressed despite himself.

"The human understands survival," she retorts, meeting his gaze without flinching. "And right now, my survival depends on this sanctuary holding against whatever forces come for me."

"For us," I correct gently. "Make no mistake, Kaia—while you may have been their initial target, we gargoyles now represent a far greater threat to dark elf authority. Once King Kres learns of our awakening, he will mobilize significant resources to return us to stone sleep... or worse."

The realization visibly weighs on her. "So I've not only endangered myself by coming here, but you three as well."

"A rather self-important assessment," Thane scoffs. "We welcome the conflict. Centuries of imprisonment have left us with considerable... frustrations to expend."

His crude implication earns a flat stare from Kaia, who seems increasingly comfortable holding her ground against beings three times her size and infinitely more powerful. Fascinating.

"Regardless," I interject, "we must accelerate our preparations.

Kaia, these texts contain information about the temple's defensive systems. With your permission, I'd like to continue our discussion tomorrow, focusing specifically on how you might assist in reactivating certain mechanisms that require. .. delicate handling."

Surprise flashes across her face. "You're asking my permission? And suggesting I could help?"

"Your fingers are considerably smaller than mine," I point out practically, displaying my clawed hands. "Some of the control mechanisms were designed for dark elf manipulation, not gargoyle."

"And you trust me enough to let me access your defenses?" she presses, obviously searching for the trap in my request.

I consider my response carefully. Trust is not a commodity I distribute liberally, especially to someone I've known for less than a day. Yet there is something about this human that compels a degree of confidence I cannot entirely explain through rational analysis.

"I trust your instinct for survival," I finally reply. "Our defenses protect you as much as they protect us. Self-interest is often the most reliable motivator."

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth—the first I've seen from her. "Practical and honest. Refreshing, compared to the manipulations I'm accustomed to from dark elves."

"Don't mistake Zephyr's academic candor for kindness," Thane warns, pushing away from the doorway. "We may not be dark elves anymore, but we're certainly not human sympathizers."

Yet even as he speaks, I note the way his gaze lingers on Kaia with something more complex than mere disdain. The girl has affected us all, it seems, in ways that defy straightforward categorization.

"I should continue my patrol," Thane announces abruptly, as if uncomfortable with his own observations. "The storm has intensified. It will provide some cover against immediate attack, but we shouldn't grow complacent."

After he departs, Kaia turns back to me, her expression thoughtful. "He doesn't like me much, does he?"

"Thane's antipathy is not personal," I assure her. "He harbors particular resentment toward humans who collaborated with dark elves during our imprisonment. The fact that you were a slave rather than a willing servant makes little difference to his broader prejudice."

"And you?" she asks directly. "Do you share his prejudice?"

The question deserves honest consideration.

I have always prided myself on intellectual objectivity, on evaluating each situation based on observable evidence rather than emotional bias.

Yet I cannot deny that centuries of imprisonment have left their mark on my psyche, coloring my perceptions in ways I may not fully recognize.

"I try to judge individuals on their own merits," I finally answer. "Thus far, you have demonstrated intelligence, adaptability, and a commendable resilience. These qualities earn my respect, regardless of your species."

She studies me intently, as if measuring the sincerity of my words. "And Ravik? Where does he stand on the question of human worth?"

An intriguing query, particularly given the undercurrents I've observed between them. "Ravik is... complicated. More than any of us, he embodies the contradiction of our existence—the dark elf mind housed within the gargoyle form. His feelings toward humans are similarly contradictory."

"That's not really an answer," she points out.

"No," I acknowledge with a small smile. "It isn't. Perhaps because Ravik himself doesn't know the answer where you're concerned."

A faint flush colors her cheeks at this observation, confirming my suspicion that the connection between them runs deeper than either might care to admit. Another fascinating development to monitor.

"Rest now," I suggest, gathering my scrolls. "Tomorrow will bring new challenges, and you'll need your strength."

As I rise to leave, Kaia's voice stops me. "Zephyr? Thank you. For the knowledge. For treating me as someone capable of understanding."

The simple gratitude strikes a chord I had thought long silenced by centuries of stone sleep. I incline my head in acknowledgment, not quite trusting my voice in that moment.

As I exit the inner sanctum, I find Ravik waiting in the shadows of the main hall, his expression unreadable. "Well?" he demands. "What have you learned?"

"Many things," I reply carefully. "The temple's defenses can be restored with careful application of magical energy. The political landscape of Protheka has evolved in predictable ways during our imprisonment. And our guest possesses a remarkable mind for one with no formal education."

His eyes narrow at this last observation. "You grow attached to her."

"I find her intellectually stimulating," I correct him. "A rare quality in any species."

"She is a means to an end, Zephyr. A curiosity that broke our curse, nothing more."

Even as he makes this declaration, I note the way his gaze drifts toward the inner sanctum, lingering on the doorway behind which Kaia rests. His words contradict his actions—a dissonance I find most revealing.

"Of course," I agree neutrally.

Ravik growls softly, clearly detecting my skepticism, but chooses not to pursue the matter. "Continue your research. Identify any weaknesses in our defenses and correct them. I want this sanctuary impregnable by dawn."

As he stalks away, wings mantled imposingly behind him, I allow myself a moment of quiet amusement. For all his fearsome power and tactical brilliance, Ravik remains remarkably blind to certain truths—particularly those concerning his own emotions.

I return to the archives, my mind cataloguing the day's discoveries. The temple's magical architecture. The political evolution of Protheka. The complex relationship developing between three gargoyles and one remarkable human woman.

Of all these mysteries, it is the last that most intrigues my scholarly mind. How strange that after centuries of imprisonment, our salvation should come in the form of a fragile human slave. How strange still that her presence should awaken within us feelings we had thought long turned to stone.

I'm beginning to suspect that some forms of knowledge—particularly those concerning the heart—may prove more valuable than all the ancient texts in my carefully curated collection.

A hypothesis worth testing, as we face whatever challenges tomorrow brings.