Page 19 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

Time passes in this uneasy dance between caution and attraction. By late afternoon, the terrain starts to shift, leading us through a series of shallow ravines draped in thin ice. Kaelith picks the route with an unerring sense of direction. I spot outcroppings that might be remnants of old structures, but they’re too eroded to be sure. I think of the wards we found earlier, how they hinted at Nerezza’s shadow looming over these lands.If she’s truly stirring, every clue we stumble upon could be a sign of her influence.

Just as the sun dips low, painting the sky in muted lavender, we round a bend and discover a crumbling stone archway bridging two boulders. Ancient carvings run along its surface, half-buried in drifting snow. My chest tightens. Another relic, perhaps from the era of gargoyle dominance or purna wards. Kaelith moves forward, nearly reverent as he traces the carvings. I can’t help but notice how his expression tightens.

“What do you see?” I whisper, drawing near.

He points to a section where the stone has collapsed, revealing deeper layers of runes in the arch’s interior. My breath catches at the design: swirling lines reminiscent of the glyphs in the temple. Anxiety thrums in my veins. Kaelith’s molten gaze flicks to me. “I recognize these symbols,” he says, voice low. “They speak of the Nyxari’s return, how the watchers must remain vigilant until the end of time.”

My blood runs cold. “So it’s a prophecy about Nerezza?”

He nods, jaw set. “Yes. This structure must have been part of a greater network of wards, maybe even an outpost dedicated to containing her. Which means her influence reached here. If the prophecy was known, the watchers might have tried to hold her back. Clearly, it was never finished or maintained.”

A wave of dread settles over me, made worse by the faint snow drifting from the gray sky. “That means we’re crossing ground once used to keep Nerezza from spreading her corruption.”

His lips press into a thin line. “If we linger, we risk whatever old magic remains—broken wards can be unpredictable, sometimes attracting lesser creatures or illusions.”

My heart pounds. “Right. We should go.” I turn, ready to leave this place and the uneasy sensation prickling my skin. Yet an unspoken question lingers in my mind:What if Nerezza is already using these neglected wards to her advantage?The thought is too horrifying to voice.

We press on, the discovery fueling our urgency. Kaelith’s posture is taut, riddled with quiet panic. I sense it in the rigid line of his wings, the clench of his tail. The brand on my wrist stings anew. My own fear roils. If she truly rises, none of us are safe: not me, not Kaelith, not any mortal or immortal who stands in her path.

As dusk settles into full night, we find a rocky shelf to make a minimal camp. We don’t bother with a fire this time, relying on layers of clothing and gargoyle warmth to keep from freezing. The wind is calmer than before, though the temperature is still punishing. Huddling close to Kaelith is both necessary and unnerving, the bond singing whenever our bodies make contact. I can’t deny the comfort in his presence, no matter how reluctant we both are to acknowledge it.

I try to rest, but my mind cycles through old memories—my coven training, Drayveth’s cold eyes when he sentenced me to exile, the temple ruins where I awakened Kaelith. Now add the looming return of an ancient evil that threatened entire races centuries ago. My pulse pounds just thinking about it. Despite everything, a spark of hope flickers in me when I recall how Kaelith seemed genuinely concerned about me clinging to him during the storm.We’re forging something new here, out of necessity but also choice.Maybe that bond will see us through the trials ahead.

Glancing at Kaelith in the dim moonlight, I find him watching the darkness with unwavering focus. His wings shift slightly when I move. The synergy between us has deepened, shaped by forced proximity and a flickering sense of trust. My chest tightens with conflicting emotions—terror of Nerezza’s threat, guilt over the broken seal, and an undeniable draw to the hulking gargoyle at my side.

Amid the hush of the winter night, I speak softly, words escaping before I fully plan them. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

He stiffens. “I haven’t decided if it’s for your sake or my own.”

A soft laugh slips from my throat, surprising us both. “Aren’t those the same thing now?”

He turns to me, eyes glinting like molten embers in the faint moonlight. Slowly, he exhales, the tension around his mouth easing. “Yes,” he admits, “maybe they are.”

Something inside me unclenches. We share a moment of silent understanding, gazes locked. The wind gently nudges the branches overhead, and a few stray flakes of snow drift between us. In that stillness, with my heart in my throat, I realize the seeds of trust have taken root. Whether they flourish or wither depends on how we face the dangers ahead—together or divided.

We sink back against the cold stone, wariness draping our every breath. Yet an undercurrent of warmth lingers, a tenuous thread of connection that defies my fear of the future. I nestle closer, ignoring the wild flutter in my chest. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t snarl or roll his eyes. Instead, he adjusts his wing to shield me from the wind’s bite, the bond humming in quiet satisfaction at our nearness.

In the distance, thunder rumbles once more, but faintly. Snow flutters across the frozen ground like whispered secrets. We remain alert, listening for any sign of Drayveth’s pursuit or the crackle of unleashed magic. But for this moment, it’s just us: two exiles navigating a broken world haunted by an ancient evil. My breath mingles with Kaelith’s, tension gradually giving way to a fragile harmony. The mark on my wrist twinges, a reminder of everything I’ve lost and the uncertain path before me. Yet, I feel the stirrings of hope, woven from necessity, fear, and a fledgling trust I never expected to find in the arms of a gargoyle.

We might be fumbling in the dark—both literally and metaphorically—but we’re not doing it alone. Tomorrow holds fresh challenges, but tonight, a spark of something more than mere survival flickers in the space between our hearts. And that small, precious glow is enough to keep me from succumbing to the shadows closing in around us.

6

KAELITH

Iinhale the crisp morning air, forcing it to steady the agitation coursing through my veins. Snow clings stubbornly to the surrounding hills, a pale hush blanketing the earth. Above, the sun fights to pierce a curtain of gray clouds, casting a weak, silvery light over the valley where we’ve made camp.

Sariah stands a few paces away, rolling her shoulders in a series of stretches. Even from this distance, I sense her restless energy. Our bond hums between us, like a gently vibrating wire tethered around both of our hearts. I scowl at the sensation, though I should be used to it by now.This forced link. This mortal’s magic entwined with mine.My wings twitch with irritation, but necessity demands I adapt.

She frowns as she catches me staring. “What?” she asks, as if bracing for another argument.

I exhale, letting the cool air burn down my throat.We have to do this.We have to harness her purna power so it won’t catch us by surprise in a true fight. More importantly, she must learn that magic alone won’t save her from the terrors lurking in these mountains—or from Drayveth, if he ever shows his face. My methods might be harsh, but that’s all I know. “We’re training this morning,” I say, voice gruffer than I intend.

Her brows shoot up. “Training?”

I fold my arms across my chest, ignoring the part of me that notices how the wind teases her hair, that single silver streak framing her face. “You heard me. No more stumbling around with half-formed spells. You nearly got us killed back at the temple when you lost control?—”

Her posture stiffens, shoulders squaring. “I was desperate?—”

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