Page 17 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

My heartbeat quickens. “Like the wards in the temple where you slept?”

“Similar, but not quite. There might have been a network of markers across Prazh, controlling or monitoring certain magical threats. If this boundary is still active, it might be tied to the same corruption that once fueled Nerezza.”

A chill races through me at her name. Even the wind seems to hush, as though eavesdropping on our discovery. “Are you saying… Nerezza might have had influence here?”

He nods grimly. “She traveled far in her quest for power. I wouldn’t be surprised if she left her mark across the continents. This region might have been fortified against her, or else she tried warping it for her own ends.”

My throat tightens. The very land might remember the scars of her chaos. “Does that mean she could use this place as a gateway to return?” My voice shakes slightly.

He presses his palm harder against the carving, as if testing its integrity. The glow of his runes intensifies, then fades abruptly. “The wards are mostly broken, their power too degraded. If she’s returning, I doubt this marker alone would stop her. But it’s a clue.” There’s a hard edge to his voice, laced with cold panic beneath the surface. Seeing him unsettled drives home how serious this is. Ifhe’safraid, the rest of us should be downright terrified.

A surge of guilt makes my chest ache. “So she really could be stirring everywhere,” I whisper. “I’ve made everything worse, haven’t I?”

He stands slowly, fixing me with a stare so intense it feels like it could burn through my skull. “You didn’t create Nerezza. You just… cut the final thread holding her sealed. She might have escaped. I can’t dwell on what ifs.” He exhales, scanning the horizon as if looking for signs of her approach. “But we’d better move. This place feels wrong.”

I help pull away more moss, searching for any writing that might give us a hint about the wards. My heart pounds whenever I brush against Kaelith’s arm. The bond hums, an unwelcome reminder that, like it or not, his presence steadies me. We find a few more faint markings—something about “the watchful stones” and “vigil of the fallen.” Not enough to piece together a coherent message. Frustrated, I slump back, the brand on my wrist itching with latent magic.

“Let’s go,” he says, offering a hand to help me stand. I hesitate, then accept his grip. It’s warm and solid, and for a moment, our eyes lock. Electricity crackles along my spine. Fear, attraction, confusion… it all flares under his unwavering gaze. Then I pull away, heart stuttering.

We continue onward, leaving the half-buried ruin behind. Dusk creeps over the valley, painting everything in shades of purple and navy. Snow drifts lazily from the clouds, a gentle threat of a heavier storm to come. By unspoken agreement, we search for a place to set up a minimal camp. The landscape is largely flat with a few knolls, but eventually we spot the remains of what might have been a small hut—just a few crooked stones forming partial walls near a shallow gully.

Kaelith inspects the structure, eyes narrowed. “It’ll break the wind, at least.” He gestures at the leaning rock slab that might act as a roof. “We can gather wood nearby. Doubt we’ll find much, but anything’s better than freezing.”

I nod, exhaustion tugging at my limbs. As we work together to salvage a campsite from the broken stones, I feel a tentative sense of partnership solidifying. We speak in low tones, exchanging short phrases when necessary. Despite his surly demeanor, Kaelith helps me maneuver a slab of wood from the rubble so we can lean it against the wall for extra shelter. I catch glimpses of his profile, jaw clenched in a way that betrays deeper turmoil. It occurs to me that in another world, another life, maybe we’d have become allies by choice.

We piece together a tiny fire with scraps of brush and a handful of dried branches we managed to collect along the road. My purna magic sparks the flames to life. It’s a relief to feel warmth against my numb fingers, though the smoke is pungent and acrid. We settle on opposite sides of the flickering light. Kaelith’s wings partially wrap around him to conserve body heat, a faint rumble in his chest signifying the slow rhythms of a gargoyle forced to remain conscious instead of slipping into deep stone sleep.

After a few bites of the last rations we traded for, silence engulfs us. The brand on my wrist itches again, reminding me of the life I left behind. I can’t help but think about Drayveth, and whether he’s still hunting me. Possibly, he’s not far behind. A pang of dread churns in my gut. I can’t let him find us, not when he’d see Kaelith as a threat to exterminate.He might not be entirely wrong,a small voice whispers, conjuring images of gargoyles rending humans limb from limb. But Kaelith isn’t like that… is he?

The flames pop, throwing sparks into the cold air. Wind rattles the edges of our makeshift shelter. My eyes travel across Kaelith’s strong silhouette, the planes of his face illuminated by dancing firelight. His runes glow a soft ember-red, pulsing in sync with his heartbeat. The effect is mesmerizing. He notices my stare, and something shifts in his expression.

“Why do you keep looking at that mark on your wrist?” he asks suddenly, voice a rumble that slices through the hush.

I stiffen, hugging my knees to my chest. “It’s a reminder of what I lost,” I say, hating how my voice trembles. “My identity, my home, my belonging. All because I wouldn’t submit to Drayveth’s demands.” I glance down at the brand, a spiral-and-line symbol that was once a proud sign of coven membership. Now it’s a scar of shame. “Sometimes it hurts, or itches, like the magic is pulling at me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, wings rustling. “Does it remind you of them in a way you’d prefer to forget?”

A wave of anger wells in me, mingled with sorrow. “Yes,” I admit. “But it also reminds me of why I left. I couldn’t stand their hypocrisy, their fearmongering. They saw my potential, yet they tried to clip my wings.” I huff a bitter laugh. “Now I wander Protheka with a gargoyle who’s tethered to me against his will. I guess you could say I have a knack for bad luck.”

Kaelith’s expression softens, just a fraction. “I didn’t say I was entirely unwilling,” he mutters, then shakes his head as though annoyed with himself for admitting it. “We have to do this. I’m not thrilled, but we have no choice if we want to stop Nerezza and break this bond.”

A flicker of warmth blooms in my chest, a tiny spark of camaraderie. “Thank you,” I say softly. “For not abandoning me. Even if it’s partially self-interest, you’ve still saved my life more than once.”

He glances away, letting the firelight paint half his face in shadow. “You’ve done well enough yourself. Negotiating with those refugees back on the ridge took courage.” He exhales. “In the temple, it might have been easier for me to let you die, so I’d be free from the tether’s immediate grip. But that’s not who I am.”

His words hang in the air. My pulse jumps. He’s admitting, in his own guarded way, that he isn’t the heartless monster I sometimes feared. I swallow, suddenly very aware of how the tension between us has shifted. There’s still caution and wariness, but now threads of acceptance weave in, binding us more tightly than the tether alone.

I decide to act on this fragile moment of goodwill. “When I read about gargoyles in old scrolls, there was mention of them forging soul-bonds with their mates,” I say carefully, watching his reaction. “Is that anything like what we’re experiencing?”

His tail lashes once, and he shoots me a hard look. “No.” The denial is firm, layered with something that feels like a pang of regret. “True gargoyle mating is a choice, a sacred vow shared by two who trust each other with their lives. This… bond… is forced, an accidental merging of our energies. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”

A flush rises to my cheeks, part embarrassment, part relief. “Right. I just wondered.”

He exhales, tension riding his shoulders again. “I can’t let it become something deeper. Not after what happened with Nerezza. She was once… everything to me.” His voice fractures on the last words, and I hear the raw pain that lingers behind them. “I failed her. Or she failed me. Either way, it ended in destruction.”

I’m not sure what to say, so I place a hand on the rocky ground between us. “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone,” I offer gently, thinking of my mother, who died before I could truly know her, and the other novices in my coven who turned their backs on me at Drayveth’s word. Loss is universal, though the scale of Kaelith’s heartbreak dwarfs mine. “Maybe the best we can do is move forward, find a way to ensure the future isn’t a repeat of the past.”

He lifts his gaze to mine. For a moment, I see a flicker of vulnerability in those molten gold eyes, like a wound that never truly healed. Then he clamps down on it, turning rigid. “Yes,” he says softly. “Forward.”

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