Page 2 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

Swallowing hard, I pick my way toward the far side of the chamber, where a portion of the wall has collapsed inward. A faint swirl of air tugs at the back of my cloak—there must be an opening behind the rubble. If there’s a chance to slip out, I’ll take it. Better to face the wilds of Prazh again than remain at the epicenter of this magical quake.

Before I move more than three steps, the floor cracks anew. A jagged line splits across the chamber, and I stumble back, arms flailing. The ground to my left crumbles inward, exposing a sinkhole that plunges into blackness. I don’t see a bottom—just swirling dust and the faint reflection of glimmering stone. My chest tightens.This place is a death trap.

“Sariah.” The voice thrums again, closer somehow. A wave of pressure knocks me off balance, forcing me to my knees. My brand flares in pain, drawing a cry from my throat. I press a trembling hand to my wrist as if that can dull the burn.

“I—” I try to form a question but my words tangle with my fear. Another rush of energy surges through the chamber, and the sense of some colossal entity stirs beneath the broken glyph. I force myself upright, ignoring the dusty sting in my eyes. Step by step, I maneuver around the sinkhole, refusing to look too long into that hungry darkness.

When I near the collapsed portion of the wall, I wedge my shoulder against a fallen pillar. It shifts with a grating sound, and I wedge myself through the gap. The corridor beyond is narrower and slopes downward. Flickering light from the original glyph dances across the walls, casting them in red and white strobes like some nightmarish heartbeat. There’s no telling if this passage leads out or deeper into the temple’s bowels, but I have no choice.

A memory pricks at me: I recall reading that in the oldest temples, labyrinthine corridors led to hidden altars or crypts. Places best left undisturbed. That knowledge does nothing to help my mounting dread. But anything is safer than the main chamber, where the floor might give way at any moment.

I force my tired limbs forward. My mind scrambles to process what just happened. A protective glyph twisted into something else. The color shift to red suggests gargoyle energy—did I awaken a gargoyle? A shudder grips me. The purna told countless stories about their wars with gargoyles, how brutal and ruthless those creatures could be, how they once nearly overran an entire continent. My coven believed them dead or slumbering. If they were locked away, someone in the past wanted them out of reach.Have I just undone centuries of a powerful seal?

“Breathe, Sariah,” I mutter to myself, turning a corner in the corridor. The sound of my footfalls echoes, the darkness heavy, pressing in from all sides. If I’ve freed a gargoyle, that might be my downfall. They hate purna. And if one is truly stirring, it won’t rest until it’s certain I pose no threat or until I’m dead.

The passage slopes steeply now, littered with shattered tiles and rock fragments. My thighs burn with each cautious step downward. Sweat beads on my brow. My cloak snags on a jagged outcrop of stone, forcing me to pause and yank it free. This small annoyance is enough to send fresh waves of panic through me. Drayveth is probably regrouping, or maybe he’s run off entirely.Unlikely.He won’t abandon his goal of seeing me captured or killed. All that matters is I stay ahead of him—or find a way to defend myself if cornered again.

Another quake rattles the walls. I press a hand against the stone to keep from falling. A muffled crack reverberates overhead, like thunder trapped in the earth. With a jolt, I look up—and see the roof fracturing. My breath hitches. Fine fissures crawl across the ceiling in chaotic lines.No, no, no.I lurch forward, desperate to escape, but then the corridor floor abruptly gives way beneath me.

I plunge into darkness. My scream chokes off as I hit a slope of rubble, tumbling down a steep decline. Stone tears at my arms, my hip slams into something sharp, my knees bruise on impact. Finally, I slide to an undignified halt in a small, circular chamber illuminated by an eerie glow from somewhere overhead. Pain lances through my side. I groan, rolling onto my back, fighting the sting in my eyes.

A crumbling avalanche of debris follows me, settling with a final clatter.That’s it,I think grimly,no going back up that way.As I push to my feet, the world sways. Pinpricks of light dance before my gaze, and I suck in a ragged breath, pressing one hand against my bruised side. The pungent smell of dust and centuries-old air fills my nostrils. The chamber around me is small, the walls close, carved with swirling patterns reminiscent of the glyph above. However, one detail stands out immediately: a massive statue occupies the far wall, overshadowing everything else.

At least, I think it’s a statue. It’s hewn from obsidian-hued stone, nearly eight feet tall, wings folded behind a broad, powerful frame. The figure’s face is sharp, features regal yet ominous. Claws tip its hands, and a tail curls around its feet. My heart drums dangerously.A gargoyle.It has to be. The legends describe them just like this—towering, built of living stone, often found in old temples or fortresses. But… it’s unmoving, eyes closed, as if sealed in place.

Instinct screams for me to run, but there’s nowhere left to go. Another corridor might open up, but from a quick glance, I see only a single archway that’s heavily caved in. If I want to reach it, I have to pass this massive figure. Adrenaline sparks, but so does curiosity.Why here?A memory flutters at the back of my mind: gargoyles once used temples as prisons or strongholds, especially if they needed solitude to slip into stone sleep, their regenerative slumber.

I edge closer, nerves fraying. He—I can’t help but think of it as a “he,” given the formidable masculine shape—looms with silent power. My brand stings again, and the echo of that voice,Sariah, grazes my mind. The statue’s eyelids remain shut. There’s no movement. Even so, the air in this chamber feels charged, as if lightning crackles invisibly around me.

Should I try an incantation?My entire body trembles at the mere thought. The last time I messed with the wards, I nearly brought the temple down. But if this gargoyle is truly in stone sleep, he might be the reason the glyph above was so heavily warded. My downfall might already be sealed. Drayveth alone is lethal. A gargoyle woken from centuries of slumber might be worse.But if I do nothing, I might just be waiting for him to wake and tear me to pieces.

Deciding caution is the lesser evil, I inch closer, raising a hand to see if I can sense any magical aura. The moment my fingers hover near the statue’s chest, a faint warmth radiates from the stone. My heartbeat rockets as a trickle of energy slides through me, like a spark dancing across the surface of water.He’s alive.The stone is not cold as any inanimate object would be; it hums, a reservoir of dormant power.

Gently, I let my fingertips graze the carved runes across his chest. In an instant, my breath catches, and I see a flash—a swirling red sky, gargoyles roaring in flight, and a woman’s laughter echoing in the distance. My entire being recoils.What was that?I snatch my hand away, breathing hard. The statue remains still, but that single moment felt like I dipped my consciousness into a vast well of memories.

A series of tremors run through the floor again, though softer. Dust trickles from the ceiling. I suspect the rest of the temple might collapse if another quake hits with enough force. I can’t stay here. Yet, the half-buried archway on the far side seems impassable. My gaze returns to the statue.This can’t be a coincidence.The magic in the glyph led me here, or I led it here. Whichever the truth, I suspect I’m meant to do something with this gargoyle—and time is running out.

Gritting my teeth, I press my palm flat against the carved symbol at the center of his broad chest. Closing my eyes, I focus on the incantations swirling in my mind, the fragments I used above. But I alter them this time, searching for a gentler approach, as if coaxing a locked door rather than forcing it open. “Let me out of this place,” I whisper, my voice shaking. “If there is a spirit here, a soul bound in stone… guide me.”

The moment I speak, I feel an answering thrum. Heat blooms under my palm. The runes etched across his obsidian flesh light up, faintly at first, then shining with the intensity of molten lava. A whisper of air sighs through the chamber, an exhalation that seems to come from the gargoyle himself.

My eyes fly open, and I witness the statue’s eyelids shift. A flicker of gold sparks beneath them, like smoldering embers. My mouth goes dry. He moves—barely, but enough to jolt me into taking a step back. Tiny shards of stone flake from his wings and shoulders, as if he’s shedding an outer layer. Each crack and pop resonates like distant thunder.

“Sariah,” that same low voice from before vibrates in my thoughts. This time, it’s tethered to the gargoyle in front of me. My entire body seizes with alarm, but I’m too mesmerized to look away. A thousand warnings flare through my mind:Gargoyles hate purna. I have no backup. He’s enormous. And I just helped break his seal.

He lifts his chin, as if testing the weight of his newly freed form. Thick dust drifts off his shoulders. For a heartbeat, his glowing eyes meet mine, fierce and ancient. A ripple of fear flutters through my stomach, mixing with something inexplicably electric, like fascination laced with dread.

His lips part, revealing sharp canines. “What's your name purna?”.

“Sariah.”

“Why,” he growls, voice more audible now, “have you unleashed me?”

My heart thuds so violently it almost drowns out the meaning of his words. Unleashed.What have I done?

Before I can stammer a response, the chamber lurches violently, sending me to my knees. Stones crash from the ceiling. A wide crack zigzags across the wall. Dust engulfs us in a suffocating cloud. The gargoyle looks up sharply, eyes narrowing as if sensing a threat far beyond collapsing masonry. I clutch my side, bruises throbbing, mind spinning. Everything is happening too fast.

He turns back to me, the glow in his gaze searing into my very soul. “You have no idea,” he says, voice echoing like the rumble of an avalanche, “what you have set in motion.”

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