Page 27 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

“We should go,” I say softly, my voice echoing in the hush. “We have to put as much distance between us and Drayveth as possible.”

He nods, turning. In the morning light, his features appear drawn, tension shadowing his eyes. “Agreed.” He hesitates, then speaks in a low tone. “Your wound… does it need new dressing?”

I glance at my shoulder, wincing at the seeping blood. “Yes, but it can wait until we’re in a safer spot.”

His gaze flickers to my lips, then moves to my eyes—so quick I might have imagined it. He nods. “Let’s move.” No mention of the searing kiss or the raw emotions swirling beneath the surface. I swallow the sting of disappointment, reminding myself we have bigger concerns right now.

And so we set off through the forest, forging a path east. Our footsteps crunch over frozen ground, the tether binding us in a closeness we can’t fully escape, no matter how much physical distance we try to keep. My mind lingers on the ambush, on Drayveth’s promise that I’m destined to become what I fear. A chill that has nothing to do with the weather grips my spine.

But I recall the fierce way Kaelith protected me, how he confronted Drayveth and shielded me from that vile serpent. And I remember the way he kissed me, as if it were the only way to prove we’re alive in a world determined to snuff us out. That memory fuels my tired legs, even as shame flickers at the edges—fear that I might break him like Nerezza broke him before.

We walk for what feels like miles, wreathed in silence. The brand throbs like a silent warning. Perhaps it’s telling me I’m dancing too close to a line that once consumed a great sorceress. Or maybe it’s urging me to fight harder. I can’t decide.

Occasionally, I catch Kaelith studying me, runes faintly glowing, as though checking I’m still stable after unleashing that near-lethal magic. I offer no words of reassurance. My mind is too muddled, stuck between longing, guilt, and the iron will to survive. He doesn’t press. Our bond resonates with unspoken tension, tangible as the frosty air.

Midmorning brings a weak sun that does little to warm us, but at least the wind eases. We find a slope dotted with pine trees, their needles thick enough to block Drayveth’s line of sight should he try to track us. Once we’re under their canopy, Kaelith finally gestures for a halt.

“Let me see your shoulder,” he says, voice subdued. The air between us crackles with the memory of last night’s closeness.

I nod silently, letting him peel away my torn cloak. He refashions the bandage with quiet efficiency, careful not to jostle my injury. Each brush of his fingers sends flutters through my stomach, tinged with guilt-laced desire. I sense his own tension in the press of his lips, the measured control in his motions.

When he finishes, we stand there, uncertain. My gaze drifts to his bruised arms, the wound on his temple. “You… you should rest too,” I manage softly. “At least let me?—”

He shakes his head. “I’ll manage.” A beat of silence, then his expression softens. “We can’t keep ignoring what happened. But we can’t dwell on it either. Not when Drayveth might be hunting us.”

My chest feels tight. “I know. I’m sorry.” For everything—my recklessness, the kiss, this entire situation. The apology hovers in the cold air.

He exhales, looking at me with an unreadable gaze. “Let’s just survive first. Then… then we’ll figure out what we are to each other.” The flicker of vulnerability in his eyes twists my heart.

I nod, swallowing back a surge of conflicting emotions. “All right.”

And so we forge onward once more, leaving behind the harrowing echoes of that ambush and the scorching imprint of our first kiss. My shoulder throbs, my magic simmers dangerously near the surface, and every step reminds me that Drayveth’s words still linger, sowing seeds of doubt in my mind.Am I truly fated to bring destruction?

But a quiet whisper of hope resounds in my chest, carried by the tether’s persistent hum. Kaelith stands beside me, battered but steadfast. For better or worse, we’re bound together, forging a path through a world that wants us both undone. Maybe if we hold onto that fleeting spark of intimacy, we can keep the darkness from consuming us—both the external threats and the shadows lurking in our own hearts.

I breathe in, steel my resolve, and place one foot in front of the other, determined to prove Drayveth wrong… and to discover whether that singular, heated moment between a gargoyle and an exiled purna can blossom into something stronger than fear.

8

KAELITH

The sky churns with bruised clouds, roiling in dark swaths that blot out what little light remains of the day. I can sense the building pressure in the air, a raw electric charge that tugs at the runes etched into my skin. Snow—and perhaps something far more violent—will strike soon. I glance at Sariah, who trudges beside me, cloak drawn tightly around her shoulders. Despite the outward calm, I detect her own swirling anxiety through our bond.

We’ve been pushing through these ravines for hours, dogged by the specter of Drayveth and his rogue purna. My side still aches from a glancing blow of necromantic magic, and her shoulder is heavily bandaged after that brutal ambush.We shouldn’t keep moving in this condition,I think grimly,but shelter is scarce in this craggy wasteland.

Wind gusts across the barren slopes, pelting us with icy flecks that sting my face. My wings bristle in protest. The temperature is dropping swiftly, and an unnatural hush settles over the land. Lightning flickers in the distance, thunder rumbling close behind. Sariah raises her eyes to the threatening sky. I see the reflection of fear there, but also an unwavering resolve—a steel in her posture that continues to surprise me. Even battered and exhausted, she marches onward, determined not to yield.

I shift closer, scanning the rock formations for any hint of a cave or outcropping that might shield us from the incoming tempest. My gargoyle senses prickle with the nearness of static, as if the atmosphere itself sizzles with latent magic. “Storm’s coming,” I say, voice rough.

Sariah’s lips quirk in a humorless half-smile. “I noticed.” She’s trembling—whether from cold or the aftermath of our battles, I’m not certain.

I press a clawed hand to her uninjured arm. Instantly, the tether twangs in my chest, a reminder that her presence is as integral to me now as my own flesh and blood. “We need cover.”

Her gaze meets mine, tension flickering in those storm-gray eyes.Storm within and storm without.She nods. “I think… I see something ahead.” She gestures toward a dark cleft in the rocks, partially obscured by fallen debris. It might be a cave. Or it might be a dead-end. Either way, we have no real choice.

We move rapidly, bracing against the rising wind. The sky deepens into a swirling cauldron of black and purple. Lightning spears across the clouds, thunder shaking the earth. My runes buzz, reacting to the sudden influx of chaotic energy. When we reach the cleft, I help shift aside a slab of broken rock. A narrow passage yawns beyond, leading into darkness.

She hesitates on the threshold, brow furrowed. I sense her wariness.Caves can be traps.But out here, with the storm intensifying, staying in the open is suicide. I angle my body to slip inside first, wings folding tight. I move with practiced caution, a faint glow from my chest runes illuminating jagged walls of stone. The air smells damp, tinged with minerals. Water drips somewhere, echoing in the cramped corridor.

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