Page 31 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

Once our modest camp is arranged, we huddle in the meager dryness. We have no fresh wood, so we can’t start a fire. We must rely on body heat and the partial shelter of the pine’s needle-laden branches. I prop myself against the trunk, wings half-wrapped around me, tail curled by my side. Sariah settles close, hugging her knees.

The hush that falls is thick with unspoken questions. The tension between us has eased somewhat, but the magnitude of what we’ve done weighs heavily. She lifts her head after a while, exhaling a cloud of white breath. “Kaelith,” she says quietly. “That cave… that storm… everything?—”

I nod, heart pounding. “I know.” My voice emerges calmer than I feel.

She clenches her fists, then relaxes them, as though wrestling with how to frame her thoughts. “I don’t regret it,” she whispers at last. “But I’m terrified of what it means.” Her eyes flick to the brand on her wrist. “We’re supposed to be fighting for our lives, not?—”

“—not forging deeper ties?” I finish softly, watching her expression. “I share that fear. But it happened. We can’t deny it.”

She rests her forehead on her knees, words muffled. “If Drayveth saw us now, he’d claim this is proof of my corruption. That I’ve enslaved you, or you’ve ensnared me with gargoyle magic… or some nonsense about me turning Nyxari.” Her voice shakes. “But it isn’t like that. I feel… more human than ever.”

A wave of tenderness tugs at me.She is human, for all that the purna consider themselves above normal mortals.Carefully, I shift closer, hooking a wing around her to shield her from the chill. She glances up, startled, then sighs, leaning into me. The weight of her body against mine conjures a gentle ache of longing. My mind replays the image of her pressed under me in the cave, magic sparking like lightning.

“You’re not corrupted,” I say, voice resonating low. “If anything, your willingness to question your power proves it. Still… we need to be vigilant.” A pang resonates in my chest. “I lost someone once who thought she could control everything. She surrendered herself to darkness, believing it was strength. I can’t watch that happen again.”

She reaches for my hand, interlacing her fingers with mine. The small gesture sends a pulse of warmth through the tether. “I won’t become her. I promise.” Her gaze is unwavering. “But I need you… to keep me anchored.”

My throat tightens. The sincerity in her voice, the trust flickering in her eyes—it’s a potent combination, stirring something protective and profound in me. “Then we anchor each other,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “Neither of us can outrun fate alone.”

She nods, eyes glistening. A fragile smile trembles on her lips. “Together,” she echoes, the word a vow that resonates in the hush. We share a breath, hearts beating in tandem. Outside, the drizzle tapers, leaving a faint hush over the pines. We remain close, letting exhaustion lull us. Our bond hums with a strange comfort, as though content in the knowledge we’ve taken a step closer to unity—dangerous though it may be.

In that quiet, I sense the aftermath of our intimacy twining around us. The tether feels more entrenched, like fresh vines that have latched onto deeper roots. It’s more than mere lust. I know that with a dread-laced certainty.We cannot walk away from each other easily now.The knowledge brings both solace and fear.What if we fail to harness this bond? What if Drayveth is right about purna and gargoyle couplings ending in ruin?

Yet, as Sariah’s eyes drift shut against my shoulder, I steel myself with silent resolve.We’ll find a way to survive—and if that means forging a new path for purna and gargoyle alike, so be it.My wings curve protectively around her as we slip into a restless doze, haunted by the echoes of the storm behind us and the uncertain battles ahead.

Yes, we’ve taken a dangerous step, forging an intimacy that transcends simple alliance. But maybe, in the heart of this savage world, that intimacy is exactly what we need—something worth fighting for, something that can ignite our combined magic without consuming our souls. And if that means facing the ghosts of our pasts, then I vow to do so, no matter the cost.

We are bound together now,I think, as her slow, steady breaths lull me toward partial sleep.And there’s no turning back.

9

SARIAH

Iwake to the echo of dripping water and the smell of damp pine needles. My entire body feels weighed down by last night’s exhaustion—and by the thousand emotions tangled beneath my skin. The cave is gone, the memory of that storm swirling in my thoughts, but the pine boughs overhead remind me that we haven’t ventured far. We’re tucked against a tree trunk somewhere in the ravines. Through the fuzzy haze of sleep, I recall Kaelith’s arms wrapped around me during the night, wings partially sheltering us both from the bitter cold.

I open my eyes slowly, half-expecting to find him looming inches away. But the space beside me is empty. An immediate pang hits my chest, a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.Reliefbecause I’m still rattled by the intensity of what we shared—disappointmentbecause another part of me secretly yearns for his presence. My cheeks burn at the memory of how intimately we clung to each other in that cave, the firelight dancing across our bruised bodies. The tether thrums at my core, a living testament to the deepening connection that both terrifies and excites me.

Guilt and longing twist together, forming a knot in my stomach.Too good,my mind echoes. It was too powerful, too consuming, as though the line between my magic and his blurred in the heat of that moment. Now, in the thin sunlight, I feel exposed. My brand twinges, as if scolding me for letting my guard slip so completely.

I push myself upright, wincing at the soreness in my shoulder. The bandage there has stiffened with dried blood. My ribs protest every movement. It’s hardly surprising, given the feral way we fought, the savage battles with Drayveth’s rogues, and then… the storm of passion that followed. I’m battered, inside and out.

Drawing a shaky breath, I look around. A makeshift ring of pine needles circles our sleeping spot. Kaelith must’ve tidied up some wards last night. My chest clenches;he’s so meticulous about protecting me.Or is it just survival, given our tether forces us to share fates?

Shoving the thought aside, I shuffle out from under the tree’s drooping boughs. Morning sunlight fights through a swirl of gray clouds overhead, casting pale beams onto the ravine’s rocky floor. Hints of frost cling to the ground, shimmering faintly. The hush that blankets this place feels uneasy, as though the world holds its breath.We’re not safe,I remind myself, hugging my cloak tighter. Drayveth could be anywhere. Or worse, that monstrous threat Kaelith once sealed away.

I find him a short distance away, crouched beside a small trickle of water that cuts through the rocks. His onyx-toned back is partially exposed, the runes carved into his skin catching the stray sunlight. He’s trying to rinse dried blood from a tear in his leathers, jaw set in a tight line. My heart pangs at the sight of his injuries: fresh bruises purpling the skin near his shoulder, scarring from old battles marking his ribs. The beast and the guardian, all in one.

He hears me approach. His molten gaze flicks up, intense as ever. I can’t tell if he’s angry or merely guarded. My pulse quickens. My mind whirls with regrets and half-formed apologies, uncertain how to begin.We can’t just pretend last night didn’t happen.

I clear my throat. “You’re up early.”

He grunts, returning his attention to the tear in his side. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d see if I could stop this from getting worse.” His voice holds that rough edge I’ve come to recognize—part fatigue, part suppressed emotion.

I hesitate, hugging my arms. “Does it hurt?”

Kaelith glances at me, runes flickering faintly. “We’re gargoyles. We heal slow, but we handle pain.” He pauses, then adds more softly, “I’m all right.” I sense the unspoken tension:But are you? Are we?

My gaze drops to the water, the slow drip forming tiny ripples that distort our reflections. “You left before I woke,” I say quietly, not sure if I sound accusatory or just sad.

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