Page 4 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

She nods once, determined. We set to work quickly, each of us bracing stones and shifting rubble. My arms burn with reawakened strength, the earthen magic in my blood stirring as I strain. If I dig too deep into that power, I risk unraveling my own wards further. But the alternative is dying under a tomb of broken rock.

Between gasps, she speaks. “You said… you sacrificed yourself. Why?” She winces as a jagged stone scrapes her hand. Despite her attempt at a neutral tone, I sense genuine curiosity behind it.

I exhale, half in annoyance, half in reluctant acceptance that she needs to know. “Long ago,” I begin, prying a slab from the corridor, “there was a purna who sought to twist her magic beyond mortal limits. She embraced chaos, a force too volatile for her. She became…” My throat constricts, recalling Nerezza’s transformation. “An abomination. I sealed her away by binding us both, entombing myself in stone sleep to contain her power. But your meddling has freed me—and freed her.” My stomach churns with the admission.

She falters, blinking. “Are you saying… she’s going to come after us? She’s alive?” Her shock is palpable.

I grunt, pushing another fragment aside. Dust coats my hands and arms, turning the glowing runes an ashy gray. “She was never dead. She was sealed. So yes, she’s likely stirring from her prison at this very moment.” The corridor behind the debris begins to open enough for us to pass. “I’d intended for that prison to remain sealed until the end of time.”

An avalanche of smaller rocks tumbles from above, forcing both of us to scramble back. The ceiling cracks ominously. She edges closer to me, unsettled. “If we don’t get out now…”

“I know,” I say, exhaling sharply. I roll my shoulders, each muscle protesting, but there’s no time for rest. “Stand aside.” I set both hands on a particularly large boulder blocking the corridor. My claws dig into the cracks, and I concentrate. A familiar hum courses down my spine, the essence of Life/Earth magic that all gargoyles possess. It resonates in the temple floor, in the rock around us, connecting me to the stone.

My runes glow, bright as embers. The boulder groans, resisting, but I push harder, summoning a fraction of the power I once wielded in the old wars. The stone shifts, scraping along the ground with a deafening noise. Sariah covers her ears. Slowly, it tips and crashes aside, opening a gap wide enough to slip through. The act leaves me dizzy, a dull ache spreading in my skull. I sense the unraveling wards I built into my chest, each act of magic scraping away at them.

“Go.” I gesture for her to move first through the passage. She doesn’t argue, slipping into the newly cleared space. I follow, wings folded tight so they don’t catch on the jagged edges. Even stooped, I nearly brush the ceiling. My frame feels unwieldy in such a cramped tunnel, more used to the open skies or cathedrals with vaulted arches.

On the other side, the corridor opens to a half-collapsed walkway. This vantage point reveals a glimpse into the larger ruin—massive pillars tilt at precarious angles, archways splinter, and the entire structure creaks like a dying beast. If we don’t escape soon, we’ll be crushed.

She looks over her shoulder, eyes finding mine. “Do you remember how to get out of here?”

“Not precisely,” I admit. “Things have changed drastically while I slept. Stay close.” I stride forward, ignoring the constant ache of the bond that buzzes in my chest. Her aura is all around me, tangling with my own. The mixture sets my teeth on edge. I want no part of any purna’s magic—and yet I can’t deny how it resonates with mine, like two halves of a broken seal.

We press onward, stepping carefully over fractures in the floor. Occasionally, she utters a soft exclamation when the ground shifts unexpectedly. Each time, my instincts lurch, wanting to steady her. I hate it. The tether is messing with my survival instincts, making me aware of her well-being in a way that feels unnatural.

Her breathing is ragged by the time we reach another chamber. A partial cave-in has flooded the space with fresh air from above. Moonlight streams through cracks in the ceiling. Snow-laced wind whips around us, a reminder that we’re in the mountains of Prazh—bleak, cold, and unforgiving. We can see stars peeking through the collapsed roof. I pause, scanning for a possible route upward.

“Look,” she says, pointing to a pile of rubble that forms a slope toward a ragged opening. Possibly an exit if we’re careful.

I grunt in agreement and fold my wings tight. “We’ll try there.”

Together, we scramble up the jagged incline. The air is frigid, but every breath tastes of freedom. My claws dig in, granting me a secure grip on the unstable terrain. Sariah isn’t as steady, slipping more than once. The bond zings painfully whenever she’s in peril, as though warning me of the risk. My tail bristles in frustration each time. I’ve never shared a magical link like this with anyone—my last bond was entirely different, a twisted union forced by a dying love. This one feels raw, immediate, and forcibly intimate.

We reach the top of the debris, panting under the clear sky. Above us, the roof has crumbled enough to reveal a gaping hole. It’s not too far to climb out. I tilt my head, calculating the distance. A quick jump, if my wings function well after centuries of slumber. My shoulders twitch as I test them, and a surge of pain reminds me of my unused muscles.I have to try.

“Wait here,” I say to her, voice still gruff. “I’ll see if it’s stable.”

She stares at me, then at the gap. “Are you sure?” Her brow creases, a slight flicker of concern or reluctance. “You just woke up after—well, after a very long time.”

“I’m still a gargoyle,” I reply firmly, as if that explains everything. Crouching, I coil my legs and push off the rubble, launching myself upward. My wings flare open, the membranes stretching wide, each forelimb supporting the extension. A wave of exhilarating agony rips through me as I hover momentarily, the cold air slicing across my skin. Then I latch onto the edge of the broken roof with my claws, hauling my massive frame over.

Stones shift under my weight. There’s enough of a ledge for me to land. Though every muscle in my body aches, I manage to stand. From here, I glimpse the temple’s exterior—a black silhouette of ancient stone spires, half-buried in the slopes of a jagged mountain. The wind is ferocious, carrying specks of ice that sting my face. My hair, thick and slightly unkempt with silvered streaks, whips around my cheeks.

“Sariah,” I call down, ignoring the pang in my chest at the utterance of her name. “Grab my hand.” I extend an arm into the hole. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before stepping forward.

Her fingers clamp around my forearm. Even through the dust and battered cloth, I feel the heat of her skin. The bond thrums like a second heartbeat, an unsettling rhythm that tightens my jaw. Carefully, I pull her up. She struggles for footing, but I support her weight. Once her head and shoulders clear the rubble, I release a small growl of exertion and drag her onto the ledge beside me.

We stand together, catching our breath under the open sky. This vantage point shows the scale of the devastation below—a yawning pit where the temple floor once lay, pillars leaning like broken tombstones. The night sky above is vast, speckled with stars partially hidden by swirling clouds. Prazh’s mountains stretch in all directions, snow-capped and relentless. The cold is biting, but it’s still a welcome reprieve from the suffocating ruin inside.

She brushes debris from her hair, shivering. “Thanks,” she murmurs, reluctant gratitude in her tone. Then she turns to me, eyes scanning my features. I’m aware of her attention shifting from my runes to my stone-like skin, then to the black, silver-streaked hair brushing my shoulders. Her gaze lingers on my wings, and I fold them carefully so they don’t knock her over.

I want to bristle, to demand she keep her eyes to herself, but an unspoken exhaustion weighs on both of us. The adrenaline from our escape is bleeding away, leaving behind raw tension.We can’t stay here.The wind howls across the jagged ledge, threatening to slice through flesh and bone. I can survive extremes, but I know humans—and purna, though they have magic—are far more susceptible to cold.

Behind us, the remnants of the temple entrance lead to a precarious path along the mountainside. My memory stirs: once, a spiraling walkway circled around this complex. I step to the edge, scanning for a route. By moonlight, I can just make out a switchback trail cutting across a slope. It’s half-buried in snow, but it might be traversable.

“Follow me,” I say, voice low. “We can descend this peak if we’re careful.”

She draws her cloak tighter, face pale. “Anywhere is better than being stuck with the entire temple about to come down on our heads.”

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