Page 47 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

I nod, though my heart aches at the loss of contact. “Yes,” I say, voice steadier. “We still have a long way to Snowfall Glen.”

She rubs her arms, brand flickering under her glove. “We’ll face it together,” she murmurs once more, a quiet reassurance.

I bow my head in agreement, turning to stir the dying embers of our modest fire. My tail flicks with a subtle resolution:I won’t push her away again. Not like that.It might mean risking heartbreak if my fears come to pass, but she deserves my faith. AndIdeserve another chance to protect someone I care for without failing them.

The morning unfolds in a subdued flurry of activity. Drayveth and his purna, wary as ever, glare at me and Sariah’s closeness but don’t voice objections. They know we’re stronger fighting the brood if we keep our synergy. We gather our meager belongings, dividing watch shifts as we trek further. There’s little conversation; the fear of another ambush by Nerezza’s creations looms too large.

Yet, despite the tension, an undercurrent of possibility laces the day. My guilt and fear remain, but Sariah’s unwavering support offers a fragile bridge across the chasm of my past mistakes. I sense we’re near a pivotal juncture—either we fuse deeper or we shatter.

As we march, our connection buzzes with a gentler resonance than before. Sariah occasionally meets my gaze, sending a faint smile that says,I’m here, and I’m not leaving.And for what feels like ages, I let a glimmer of hope light my thoughts.

Yes, we’re haunted by Nerezza’s specter, hounded by the brood, and burdened by Drayveth’s hatred. But in that quiet moment around the dying fire, I realized that fear can’t control me forever. Sariah isn’t Nerezza. And if I keep pushing her away, I’ll only replicate the very tragedy I want to avoid.I must do better.

We climb another ridge, the sun rising overhead, casting long shadows across the mountain trails. Drayveth leads his subordinates with muted authority, occasionally pausing to consult with Sariah about magical reading of the terrain. I hang back, content to let them talk tactics, though I keep a watchful eye on them. Sariah stands straighter than before, less weighed down by my rejection. The brand on her wrist glows subtle silver in the midday light, reminding me how her magic resonates with mine.

Halfway through the climb, she glances back, her expression questioning. I step forward, bridging the gap. We exchange a few words about the route—nothing personal, but the tether thrums with unspoken synergy. My old guilt tugs at me, but I push it aside.One day at a time,I repeat.

By late afternoon, we find a narrow plateau where we can rest. The tension among Drayveth’s purna simmers, but no open hostility surfaces—our combined fear of the brood overshadows old grudges. Sariah and I set our packs down, exhaustion lining our faces. I catch her eye, offering a small nod. She returns it, a flicker of gratitude in her gaze, as if she senses I’m fighting to let her in, inch by inch.

Night creeps in once more, and we form a small camp. I watch Sariah as she arranges wards around the perimeter, her incantations weaving faint lines of magical light across the stony ground. She’s so capable, so resolute, and a flicker of admiration sparks in me.Her determination might be what saves us from repeating the past.

Later, while Drayveth and his subordinates bicker over guard rotations, Sariah and I end up sitting by the fire again. It’s the calm before tomorrow’s unknown storms, a rare peaceful watch in the hush of darkness. Her hair drapes across her shoulder, silver strands catching the flicker of flames. She meets my gaze, a tentative smile curving her lips, and I feel my heartbeat quicken.Yes, we’re near the brink.But maybe we’ll survive it.

She shifts closer, cloak rustling. “Thank you,” she whispers, “for not shutting me out again.”

My throat constricts. I lower my eyes to the dancing embers. “I can’t promise I won’t slip,” I admit, voice husky. “But I’ll try not to push you away.”

Her hand settles on mine, gentle yet firm. The tether pulses, enveloping my chest in a comforting warmth. We share that moment in silence, the rest of the camp lost in their own concerns. The wind rattles against the rocks, but it feels less biting now that we face it together.

In the quiet, I recall how my old love changed, how we once sat around fires with the same sense of closeness, only for it to twist into betrayal. Fear nips at me, but I banish the ghosts, focusing on Sariah’s heartbeat so close to my own. She’s not Nerezza. We’re forging a new story, with different choices.

We linger there, letting the night envelop us in a fragile sense of peace. And though we stand on the edge of war, confronted by Drayveth’s ultimatums and Nerezza’s looming terror, I dare to believe that maybe—just maybe—we can weather this storm. My armor may have cracks, but Sariah’s presence reminds me that sometimes vulnerability is what helps us endure.

So I sit with her, letting the tether hum in contentment, letting the fire’s light play over our entwined fingers. Tomorrow, we face the uncertain path to Snowfall Glen, the brood overhead, and Drayveth’s brittle truce. But for tonight, we claim this fleeting moment of closeness. It feels like it has been centuries since I feel a spark of hope flicker inside the fortress of my heart, chasing away the shadows of a past I feared would forever chain me to guilt and solitude.

13

SARIAH

Itaste blood on my lips as I scramble over fractured rock, lungs burning from the uphill sprint. Dusk bleeds across the sky in violent shades of crimson and purple, painting the rugged terrain in ominous hues. Cold wind whips past, carrying the stench of something foul—rotting flesh and the sharp tang of alien magic. Every nerve in my body screams that we’re out of time.

Behind me, Kaelith’s ragged breathing hitches, telling me he’s in pain. I feel it too through the tether, a dull throb echoing in my core, intensifying with every jarring footstep. Fear flares;he’s hurt, badly.My brand pulses on my wrist, fueling a surge of desperate adrenaline that keeps me moving.

A roar echoes off the cliffs—one of the lesser gargoyles awakened by Nerezza’s twisted magic. So far, these new spawn aren’t as powerful as the brood that attacked Drayveth’s group, but they’re numerous and vicious, driven by a gnawing hunger and an unnatural devotion to the Nyxari. There must be at least five or six of them circling behind us, clawing at the rocks, howling for blood. I’m not certain how many we’ve already fought off, and I’m terrified to discover how many more lurk out here.

“Sariah,” Kaelith growls my name, voice breaking. He lags a step, wings half-extended as though he considered taking flight but thought better of it. His onyx skin gleams in the waning light, runes flickering erratically. A deep gash slashes across his right thigh, crusted with dark blood, and his breathing is ragged in a way that scares me more than the gargoyles.He’s not regenerating fast enough.

“Just a little further,” I say, heart pounding. We crest another rise in the barren slope and find ourselves gazing down at a narrow gorge. Low, twisted trees cling to the rocky sides, branches heavy with an early, bitter frost. Beyond, a partial cave opening appears—just large enough for us to shelter.My spirits lift. If we can reach that hollow, we might stand a chance of regrouping.Or at least catching our breath before we face them again.

Kaelith’s tail lashes, scattering loose gravel. “I sense them closing in,” he mutters, golden eyes scanning the gloom. My own senses prickle, the brand on my wrist stinging with each step. A half-dozen monstrous silhouettes scurry over the boulders behind us, shrieking in that guttural, unnatural language. The entire slope quakes with their approach.

My stomach churns. “Run!” I yell, grabbing Kaelith’s arm to haul him forward. He lets out a pained grunt but manages to match my stumbling pace. Together, we half-slide, half-jump down the ravine, dislodging small avalanches of stone that cascade after us. One slip, and we’ll be easy prey for the lesser gargoyles.Goddess, please, no more missteps.

Lightning arcs overhead—no, not lightning; it’s a bolt of corrupted magic from one of the gargoyles. They shouldn’t have the ability to cast spells, but Nerezza’s influence has apparently gifted them rudimentary chaos power. The searing red bolt blasts a chunk of rock behind us, throwing up a shower of debris that pings off my staff and sends Kaelith reeling. A scream lodges in my throat as we both hit the ground in a painful tumble, dust choking our lungs.

I scramble up first, coughing, reaching for him. He’s half-propped on an elbow, runes flaring in disarray. “Kaelith,” I gasp, voice raw. He groans, wings twitching, face contorted in pain. My brand practically throbs with alarm, mirroring his agony.No, no, no. Don’t you dare die on me now.

The gargoyles shriek again, bounding closer. I can hear the scrape of their claws on stone. My heart roars in my ears.We have to move.Summoning the last dregs of strength, I hook my arm under Kaelith’s, ignoring the burning protest in my battered shoulder. He’s huge, easily capable of pressing three times my weight overhead when uninjured. But now he’s nearly dead weight, leaning heavily on me. The tether hums in frantic alarm at our combined distress.

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