Page 11 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

A shiver quakes down my spine, and not from the cold. “How certain are you that she’s not awake already? That I didn’t free her the same moment I freed you?”

He looks into the fire, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’m not certain. She may be stirring somewhere else, using her power to gather strength. My runes haven’t fully unraveled, which suggests she isn’t yet at peak form. But each day we tarry, she could be regaining lost ground.”

My heart throbs with guilt and fear. “Then we have to hurry. Yet we also need to find a way to break this tether. And that might require time.”

He inclines his head, gold eyes reflecting the flames. “Our best option remains finding someone with knowledge of advanced wards. You mentioned Snowfall Glen. It’s a risky bet, but we may have no other immediate recourse.” He hesitates, wings rustling. “Tomorrow, we’ll chart a path there.”

The flicker of hope kindles in my chest, mingling with dread. “They might not accept us, but it’s worth trying.”

“Agreed.” He turns his gaze to the outside gloom, as though expecting an ambush at any second. “I’ll keep first watch again.”

I should argue that I can handle the first shift, but exhaustion drags at my bones. Despite my best intentions, I stifle a yawn. The day’s trek has drained me. So I nod, huddling nearer the fire. My cloak and the ragged piece of cloth he gave me last night are the only things between my skin and the mountain’s biting chill. I sense him shifting behind me, his presence looming large. A gentle swirl of rocky dust and the faint scent of ozone cling to him.

Closing my eyes, I attempt to still my racing thoughts. The flicker of the bond pulses faintly, a constant reminder that we share a forced closeness. If I dwell on that too long, panic threatens to claw at my throat. Instead, I focus on the small comfort of the fire’s warmth and the knowledge that, for tonight, Drayveth isn’t here.

Time passes in fits and starts. I drift in and out of a doze, lulled by the crackling flames and the distant sigh of the wind. At one point, I jolt awake, my heart hammering, convinced I heard footsteps outside. Kaelith is already on his feet, wings partially unfurled, intense gaze aimed at the cave entrance. Yet nothing materializes; perhaps it was only a shifting rock, or a creature skittering across the mountainside.

He slowly relaxes, resuming his post. I exhale, heart pounding. The bond’s tension eases when we both realize there’s no immediate danger. My eyelids slide shut again, and I sink back into uneasy rest. My dreams are fitful—jumbled images of Drayveth’s brand, the glyph’s blinding light, and the terrifying shape of a woman’s face twisted by dark magic.

When I next surface, Kaelith is shaking my shoulder gently. The fire has dimmed to embers, and a chill grips the air, turning my breath white. “Your turn,” he murmurs, voice subdued.

I nod, scrubbing sleep from my eyes. He retreats to the far wall, body partially in shadow, but I sense his exhaustion despite his stoic facade. We’ve only known each other a short time, yet the tether reveals subtle clues about his state. I poke at the coals, feeding them a few remaining sticks, then settle in to watch the cave’s entrance. The night is eerily quiet, with only the distant moan of wind to keep me company.

Kaelith dozes, or at least pretends to. His stone sleep, if he chooses to fully embrace it, can make him nearly invincible, but I sense he refuses to become that vulnerable around me—even though I doubt I’m a threat. My head throbs with the weight of everything: the betrayal by Drayveth, the shattered seal, the ancient lover turned monster, and this forced bond.What a grand mess.

Time slips by in slow increments, measured by the crackle of burning twigs. I keep my ears pricked, half-expecting the crunch of boots or the hiss of Drayveth’s sorcery. But nothing disturbs the darkness. Eventually, the sky begins to lighten, heralding a new day. My mind drifts to the journeys ahead: forging a path to Snowfall Glen, praying they won’t kill us on sight, and somehow unraveling the tether before Nerezza unleashes unimaginable terror.

A pang of mingled fear and determination settles in my chest. I’m not sure how to fix any of this, but I’ve already chosen to fight. I can’t lie down and let the coven slaughter me, or let Nerezza destroy the world because of my accidental blunder. I glance at Kaelith’s sleeping form, noting his broad back and the faint glow of runes along his arms. He might be the only ally I have left, even if he remains furious and distrustful. I’ll take that over facing the darkness alone.

As dawn’s first rays peek over the horizon, painting the cave entrance in pale gold, I stand and stretch, my joints protesting. Another day awaits. I catch my reflection in a small puddle of melted snow near the rock wall: a woman with hair in disarray, silver highlights threaded through chestnut waves, gray eyes ringed with fatigue. Dark smudges underscore them, courtesy of too little rest and too much turmoil. I no longer recognize the naive purna I was in the coven. But maybe that’s a good thing.

Behind me, Kaelith stirs, eyes opening to reveal that molten intensity. I wonder if the bond alerted him the moment I moved. He rises with predatory grace, dusting off shards of rock clinging to his wings. Outside, the wind picks up again, rattling the sparse shrubs.

“You kept watch,” he says, voice rumbling with subdued gratitude. He doesn’t saythank you, but I sense an unspoken acknowledgment.Progress,in its gargoyle form.

I nod. “Nothing disturbed us. But we should get going before the day grows old.”

He presses his palm to the runes on his chest, expression grim. “Yes. Nerezza won’t wait. Nor will your Drayveth.”

I swallow, stifling the pang of anxiety that arises at the mention of my old mentor. “Right.” My voice steadies. “Let’s move.”

Without further discussion, we douse the remaining embers of our tiny fire and gather our scant belongings. Stepping out of the cave, we inhale the icy morning air. The horizon stretches before us, the path uncertain but inevitable. Side by side—bound by a cursed tether, dogged by enemies, tethered to a fate we never asked for—we descend from the mountain heights, forging our next step toward either salvation or doom.

I feel Kaelith’s presence at my shoulder, a towering guardian who brims with resentment and reluctant concern. The bond hums, anchoring us together in a dance neither of us chose. My heart hammers, a mixture of apprehension and something deeper, an unspoken pull that might prove dangerous if I let it grow. Because for all his gruff hostility, I sense in him a sorrowful loyalty that resonates with my own battered spirit.

Neither of us trusts easily. Yet, as we begin this day’s journey, I can’t help thinking—maybe in our shared desperation, we’ll find a way to heal more than just an ancient seal. Perhaps in the bleakness of Prazh, two exiles can forge a new fate, one that defies betrayal and fear. The wind pushes against our backs, urging us forward, and I tighten my grip on my cloak. No matter how dark the road ahead, I won’t run from it.

For better or worse, Kaelith and I are in this together. And while that idea sparks dread, it also kindles a tiny ember of hope.

4

KAELITH

Istand at the cave’s entrance, silent as dawn stretches its pale glow across the rugged slopes of Prazh. My breath steams in the cold air, but it does little to warm the chill seeping through my veins. For centuries, I knew exactly who I was: a gargoyle warrior, bound by my own choice to that stone prison. Now, everything has changed. The vow that once guided my entire existence is broken, undone by this mortal woman who sleeps fitfully only a few paces behind me.

Sariah. A purna with eyes that hold the same fierce spark I once admired in another. It unnerves me how easily my memory slips from the present to the past, how the shape of Sariah’s determined chin conjures fleeting echoes of Nerezza. That single name twists a blade in my chest, stirring guilt and regret. My sacrifice was meant to ensure that Nerezza could never threaten Protheka again. Yet here I stand, free—and so, undoubtedly, is she.

I drag in a slow breath, trying to ground myself in the moment. Last night’s frost still clings to scattered stones, painting the ground in a silver sheen. The sky overhead gradually shifts from inky black to a softer lavender, edged with gold near the horizon. This place is undeniably beautiful, a stark contrast to the roiling conflict in my soul. I want to just launch into the air, spread my wings to catch the biting winds, and escape. But the tether ensures that isn’t an option. I can’t fly off without jeopardizing Sariah—and, by extension, myself.

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