Page 1 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

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SARIAH

Ipress my back against the cold stone of a half-collapsed column, trying not to breathe too loudly. My heart thunders in my chest, and the wind howling across the barren mountain range of Prazh does nothing to mask the cacophony of my pulse. The night air is sharper than any blade, nipping my cheeks, numbing my fingers. I shouldn’t stop. Every second spent crouched here allows Drayveth to gain ground, and I have little strength left for another confrontation.

I can’t remember the last time I felt warm. The chill seeping into my bones has become a constant companion—perhaps it’s a reflection of my life these days, a never-ending struggle where hope flickers like a sputtering candle. Prazh’s rugged beauty holds no comfort tonight: jagged peaks rising like broken teeth, snow-driven winds slicing my face, and the occasional wail of distant creatures prowling the slopes. Even the sky seems hostile, stars glaring down without mercy.

Move, Sariah.I grit my teeth, glancing around the fragment of carved stone that once formed part of an elaborate temple gate. This place is ancient, older than my memory can place. Intricate glyphs span the remaining walls, half-eroded, half-buried under centuries of shifting ice and debris. I’m desperate, but not entirely foolish: heading into an unexplored ruin alone is idiotic at best. But Drayveth is close behind, and foolish or not, it might be my only chance.

My palm tingles where the old scar circles my wrist. I can almost hear Drayveth’s voice hissing that I should never have defied the coven.Traitor.I know what they call me now. They claim I’m too dangerous to live, that my magic is an affront to the purna way of life. But I refuse to crawl back to them or beg for forgiveness. They wanted me obedient and pliable, a pawn in their endless fight for power. Instead, I walked away, and apparently, that’s a sin worthy of death.

I steel myself and push off the column, sliding into a low sprint. My boots crunch over loose gravel as I dart between the remnants of tall pillars. Centuries ago, these stones must have arched over a grand entrance, perhaps for pilgrims or worshippers. Now, everything is in ruins. The gloom is cut by scant moonlight reflecting on patches of ice. Stumbling once, I catch myself just before toppling into a jagged patch of broken marble. My breath puffs white with every exhalation, each ragged draw of air reminding me how alive I still am—and how easily that can change.

I risk a glance over my shoulder. No sign of Drayveth yet, but he’s as relentless as a vulture, circling and waiting for the moment I weaken. He knows my strengths, but he also knows I’ve been running for too long. Exhaustion weighs on me like a heavy cloak, sapping my focus. My magic flickers unpredictably, half in my control, half tugging at me with dangerous potential. If I’m not careful, I might lose more than just my life. I might lose whatever last shred of humanity I cling to.

Skirting the perimeter of the ruins, I see a large archway leading further inside. A massive door, carved with swirling sigils, stands half ajar. My pulse quickens at the faint glow emanating from within. Could that be a wardsign? A relic from ancient purna magic, or something else entirely? I hesitate, chewing my lower lip. Every part of my rational mind screams that stepping into unknown enchantments is the surest way to die. But Drayveth is out there, and this glow might hint at a protective force. My best chance is to slip inside, see if I can find cover or something to shield me from detection.

I cross the threshold into a wide corridor littered with fallen columns. The walls tower overhead, curved inwards like an inverted rib cage, their surfaces carved with symbols older than any I’ve studied. The atmosphere hums with a faint resonance, each step magnifying an electric tension beneath my skin. It reminds me of the moment right before I unleash a spell: that razor-thin space between potential and manifestation.

Pressing forward, I catch my reflection in a cracked slab of polished stone. For a moment, I barely recognize myself, even though it’s my face staring back. Snow-damp chestnut hair hangs in waves around my shoulders, marred by streaks of silver that showed up the day I first tapped into my more potent purna magic. My golden-olive skin carries the smudges of days spent on the run, and there’s a thin brand around my wrist, the mark of my former coven—a permanent reminder that I once belonged, and now I’m exiled. My storm-gray eyes flicker, the silver flecks catching the reflective surface, making me look feral, on edge. I hold that gaze, inhale, and push onward.

The hallway ends in a cavernous chamber where the glow intensifies, emanating from glyphs inlaid into the floor. They form circular patterns, radiating outward like the ripples from a stone dropped in water. Ice drips from the ceiling, and the air is thick with expectancy. Carefully, I kneel at the edge of the largest glyph, adrenaline ricocheting inside my veins. There’s no dust here, no sign of the centuries that must have passed—only pristine lines shimmering faintly with an otherworldly sheen.

A breathless laugh escapes my lips.By the Source.This is big. Very big. Could these inscriptions be a protective seal left behind by some ancient purna? Or maybe they’re wards cast by the gargoyles who once fought my kind. Either possibility sends goosebumps across my arms.

Footsteps echo down the corridor behind me. I snap my head around. Drayveth. His voice cuts the hush: “Sariah! Stop running, child. Let’s talk.”

Child. He always called me that, even when I surpassed every test he threw at me. He used to protect me from the harsh judgment of the coven; back then, I believed he cared. Now, his tone is layered with coldness.He’s not going to spare me.

I press my palm to the glyph, more from desperation than understanding. My magical sense tingles, urging me to try something. My mind scrambles through half-forgotten incantations, scraps of archaic chanting I gleaned from a thousand coven lessons. Maybe I can turn this place into a shield.It’s worth a shot.

“Are you here?” Drayveth’s footsteps quicken. His voice ricochets off the stone walls, and I’m out of time.

Closing my eyes, I whisper incantations that come to mind in a patchwork of terror-fueled memory. My breath trembles, words tumbling in a mixture of old purna tongues. Heat flares beneath my hand, and a surge of raw magic crackles up my arm. I pour my last dregs of power into the glyph, begging it to respond, to erect a barrier between Drayveth and me. My heart hammers louder than the chunk of ice slipping from the ceiling and shattering at my feet.

A faint hum builds. My fingertips tingle. The lines across the floor begin to glow brighter, turning from pale silver to a fierce white. I open my eyes to see the glyph swirl, arcs of light dancing across the chamber like living serpents.Yes.Relief warms my insides—maybe, just maybe, I’ll survive this.

“What are you doing?” Drayveth steps into the chamber, robes swirling around his tall frame. Shadows drape his features, but I know his expression is pinched with disapproval. His eyes zero in on me, then on the glowing glyph under my hand. “Are you insane? These wards are not for you to tamper with!” He lunges, arms raised, conjuring a sliver of green-black energy in his palms.

I flinch, bracing for impact. My concentration falters, the incantation slipping from my mind like water through a sieve. Light flares beneath me, so blinding it sears the edges of my vision. The ground rumbles. A roaring force rips the air from my lungs, and suddenly, it feels like the floor buckles.

Drayveth staggers, looking stunned. “Sariah, what have you done?” he hisses, attempting to shield his eyes from the sudden brilliance.

I clamp my teeth together, barely able to keep my balance as the floor cracks. An unearthly howl echoes from below, a sound that rattles my bones. The glyph’s glow shifts, pulses of red emerging within the white. My heart seizes. Red—always the color of war, of gargoyle magic, of chaos in the purna histories. The stories say gargoyles once warped the earth with that red hue, their ferrous bloodlines steeped in destructive power.

An explosion of energy courses through my body. I scream, falling forward onto the glyph. My brand scorches, the symbol around my wrist momentarily flaring silver against my skin. For a frantic heartbeat, I can’t see. Everything is noise and brilliant light. Then, darkness.

In that suffocating blindness, a presence brushes against my consciousness. It’s immense, ancient, filled with restrained fury. My pulse throbs in my ears.Who—?No answer, just the sensation of something stirring deep underground, as if roused from a centuries-long slumber.

When my sight returns, Drayveth is gone—his shape is a blur sprinting back into the corridor. The entire chamber groans, the carved walls trembling like they might collapse. Chunks of debris crash down, dust billows upward, and I lurch upright, coughing. The glyph is dim now, cracks spiderwebbing through it. Whatever force it once contained must be broken, the magic undone.

I push myself to my feet, nearly tripping over a loose slab.Think, Sariah.If Drayveth is fleeing, that means something truly terrible must be happening. He’s never been one to run from a fight unless there’s a threat beyond his ability. Which implies I’ve just unleashed something far more dangerous than my old mentor’s wrath.

My legs feel like lead, but I force myself forward, scanning the chamber for an exit or any immediate signs of danger. My ears ring, and a fine layer of dust coats my lashes. Darkness seeps into every corner where the moonlight doesn’t reach. A faint rumbling persists, traveling beneath my feet like a living heartbeat.

“Sariah.” The voice resonates through the stones, a low vibration that makes every hair on my arms lift. It’s not Drayveth’s voice. It’s deeper, filled with an unearthly quality.

I freeze. “Who’s there?” My voice is hoarse, scraping against the silence. Nothing answers. But I can still sense the presence, an immense aura pressing against my senses.

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