Page 21 of Eggsactly the Right Gargoyle

I grunt noncommittally, though her words warm something inside me. The sunlight catches in her dark curls, creating a halo effect that makes her look like she belongs here among the growing things. Her enchanted scarf shifts from deep purple to a vibrant gold, matching her mood.

“I don’t think they loved me much before you arrived.”

Talia laughs, the sound rippling through the grove like music. “Maybe they just needed a proper introduction.”

She stands and stretches. I avert my gaze, focusing intently on the moonflower. Four days of working side by side with Talia has been challenging. Not because she’s difficult—quite theopposite. She’s warm, enthusiastic, and radiates a joy that draws me in despite my best efforts to maintain distance.

“I think we should check the boundary stones next,” she says, walking toward me. “They seemed to be responding to our combined magic yesterday.”

I nod and rise to my full height, towering over her. Yet she never seems intimidated by my stone form or my size. She treats me like I’m... normal. Human, even.

“Lead the way,” I say.

We walk deeper into the grove, navigating between newly sprouted undergrowth. The sentient vine seedling we created—now nearly as tall as Talia—waves cheerfully as we pass. “Hello, friends,” it calls in its strange, whispery voice.

“Hello, Sprout,” Talia responds with a smile. She insisted on naming the vine, despite my protests that magical sentient plants rarely need names.

The path narrows, forcing us to walk closer together. Her arm occasionally brushes against mine, sending jolts of warmth through my stone skin. I try to focus on anything but the witch beside me.

“Watch your step,” I warn as we approach a particularly gnarled root system. “These old roots can be—”

My warning comes too late. A vine—not Sprout, but one of the older, more mischievous plants—snakes across the path. It wraps around my ankle, yanking hard. I stumble forward, flaring my wings instinctively for balance. Talia turns at my exclamation, her eyes widening as I pitch toward her. I throw my hands out to catch myself, but there’s nowhere to land except against her.

She braces herself, hands coming up to steady me. My momentum carries us backward until her back meets the trunk of an ancient oak. My hands land on either side of her head, caging her between my arms.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her breath warm against my face.

We’re too close. She looks up at me, and the rings in her eyes are glowing now, her magic responding to our proximity. I should move away. I should apologize and step back.

I don’t.

“Dorian?” she whispers.

My name on her lips breaks something loose inside me. I lean down, closing the distance between us. Her lips are soft against mine, warm and yielding. She tastes like sunshine and honey. She slides her hands up my chest to my shoulders, pulling me closer.

For one perfect moment, I forget everything—my guilt, my failures, and my century of solitude. There is only Talia, her warmth, her light, and her magic calling to mine.

Then reality crashes back. I jerk away, stumbling backward. My wings snap open fully, responding to my agitation. “I—I’m sorry,” I stammer, horrified at my lapse in control. “That was inappropriate.”

She touches her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide. “Dorian, it’s okay—”

“No,” I cut her off. “It’s not. I never should have—” I shake my head, unable to finish the thought. “I need some air.”

Before she can respond, I launch myself into the sky, powerful wing beats carrying me away from the grove, away from Talia, away from the confusion and desire threatening to overwhelm me.

I fly without direction, letting instinct guide me. The cool air against my face does little to calm the storm inside me. What was I thinking? Kissing Talia threatens to open me up to all the emotions I’ve suppressed since losing Luetha.

My wings carry me to the chapel, my asylum for centuries. I land on the highest spire, perching like the gargoyle I am, and overlooking the town of Evershift Haven below. From here,everyone looks small, their problems insignificant. I wish my own troubles could shrink so easily.

I close my eyelids, trying to center myself through meditation without entering stone hibernation. It’s a technique I’ve used for centuries to maintain control, to keep my emotions in check. Today, it fails me completely.

The wind carries Talia’s laughter, though she’s nowhere near. Her scent fills my nostrils though I’m miles from the grove. My stone skin, normally cool to the touch, radiates warmth as if I’ve been basking in the summer sun.

“What is happening to me?” I mutter, pressing my palms against the stone spire.

Even the chapel, my refuge for so long, offers no comfort. The stones seem to hum with the same melody as the resonance eggs that brought Talia and me together. The stained glass windows catch the light, casting patterns that remind me of the golden glow in her eyes when she works her sun magic.

I can’t escape her. More concerning, I’m not sure I want to.

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