Page 70 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

We step beyond the temple’s shattered doorway, leaving behind the echoes of illusions and final battles. The early light bathes the forested slopes in soft gold, beckoning us to explore a world no longer haunted by Nerezza’s corruption. Sariah’s gaze sweeps across the horizon, her lips curving into a gentle smile that kindles warmth in my chest. It’s as though she, too, finds solace in the rebirth of morning.

“How do you feel?” she asks quietly, glancing at my faint runes. “Now that…” Her voice drifts, hinting at all we sacrificed—my gargoyle powers, the illusions we severed.

I squeeze her hand, letting the morning air fill my lungs. “I feel lighter,” I murmur. “Like the stones weighing me down have finally fallen away.” A wry laugh hitches in my throat. “I still ache from the final seal we cast, but that ache reminds me I’m truly alive—and free.”

Sariah’s eyes glisten with empathy. “I remember how you told me once that you felt cursed to repeat the past, to watch another purna become a monster. But you broke that cycle, Kaelith.” She steps closer, pressing our joined hands to my chest. “We both did.”

My heart thuds against her knuckles, the brand’s hum adding a quiet undertone. “Yes,” I say, voice raw. “Now we have the future to shape, free from illusions or ancient curses. And I want to share that future with you.”

A faint blush dusts her cheeks. We linger in the temple’s threshold, the ruins casting long shadows over the grass. I see the question in her eyes—Where do we go now?We’ve bandied about heading to Snowfall Glen, forging alliances with purnas who might accept us. Or maybe we’ll just wander until we find acceptance in some distant land. The only certainty is that we do it together.

She speaks first, voice tentative. “We’ve rid Protheka of Nerezza’s immediate threat. Drayveth might still hate us, but with the brood scattered, there’s no reason to stay in these mountains.” Her brand pulses faintly. “We can’t go back to my old coven, not with them labeling me a Nyxari. And you… well, the gargoyles are either gone or corrupted beyond salvage.”

I nod slowly, memories of my old gargoyle brethren stirring.Once, I believed our race unstoppable, but Nerezza’s illusions decimated us.A pang of mourning flits through me. “There’s nothing left here for me,” I murmur. “My kin are dust or twisted thralls. Even if I found survivors, they wouldn’t recognize what I’ve become. Better we seek new horizons.”

Sariah’s grip tightens. “Then let’s journey beyond Prazh, like we planned. The world might fear purna and gargoyle, but we can carve out a place for ourselves. Maybe Snowfall Glen, maybe beyond. We’ll find a community that sees us for who we are.” A tremor of excitement lines her voice. “Or we’ll build our own, if we have to.”

A swell of gratitude surges in my chest. I kiss her knuckles, brand flickering at the contact. “Yes,” I say, eyes shining. “We step forward together.” The words taste of promise, the simplest vow that has guided us since illusions first tried to tear us apart.

She smiles, then sets her staff aside, turning fully to me. The morning light gilds the planes of her face, accentuating the determination in her storm-gray eyes. A hush falls between us, the only noise is the rustling pine branches overhead. My pulse thrums, sensing a shift—a deeper resolution forming.

“Kaelith,” she says softly, swallowing. “There’s something else.” She glances at her brand. “We’ve saved each other over and over, forging synergy that no illusions could sever. But I want more than just traveling together. I want to stand at your side, not just as a partner in battle, but as… something permanent.”

My heart stutters. I recall how gargoyles once recognized mates with ceremonial vows, sharing stone-bound hearts. But I lost that tradition with my old life—though the memory remains. “Are you… are you asking to…?” I trail off, uncertain how to phrase the question.

She exhales, a tiny smile tugging her lips. “I recall how your old gargoyle culture recognized mates. My coven had a parallel idea: a bonding ceremony, though mostly for purna with deep synergy. When we sealed Nerezza, I realized there’s no one else I want to walk with through this world.”

My runes, faint though they are, tingle with an unmistakable warmth.Mate.The word resonates with a primal part of me, stirring both joy and solemn respect. We rarely used that term lightly in gargoyle traditions. And yet, the synergy and love I share with Sariah surpass anything I experienced, even with Nerezza in the distant past.It feels right.

“Yes,” I whisper, voice catching. “I want that, Sariah. More than anything.” My tail flicks in excitement, the brand on her wrist flaring in response. “But… does your purna tradition allow for a gargoyle—half gargoyle now—to stand as your mate?”

She lifts a hand, cupping my jaw. “We forge our own path, remember? Even if Drayveth or the coven or the entire world scorns us, I choose you. Will you choose me?”

Tears prick my eyes, a raw tenderness coursing through me. “Always,” I say, letting the word echo under the ruined arches. I lower to one knee, ignoring the twinge of pain in my battered limbs, and bow my head to her. It’s a gargoyle gesture of devotion, one rarely granted. My wings spread partially behind me, a sign of respect. “Sariah, purna of unwavering heart, will you be my mate?”

She chokes on a laugh-sob, eyes brimming with tears. “Of course,” she whispers, tugging me up so she can fling her arms around my shoulders. Our lips meet in a desperate kiss, tears slipping down both our cheeks. My heart soars, brand humming in quiet euphoria.We made it—beyond illusions or condemnation.

We linger in that embrace, exchanging whispers of love and relief. Then I pull back, breath unsteady, scanning the sunlit clearing. “A ceremony,” I say, voice husky. “Gargoyles once had a custom of exchanging vows under the open sky, with a gathering of kin. But we have no kin left—perhaps we can do it just us, or find a friendly outpost that welcomes our union. I only know I want the world to see we stand as mates by choice, not illusions.”

Sariah nods, eyes shining. “We can hold a small ceremony—just the two of us in nature’s presence for now. Later, if we find acceptance among the purnas or any allies, we can reaffirm it. But I want to vow myself to you, Kaelith.” She strokes a hand over my chest, runes faintly warming. “In my purna tradition, we bless the union with an exchange of magic, consenting to be each other’s vessels in times of need. Is that something you’d want?”

A surge of emotion nearly robs me of speech. I recall how purna can take a mate or a vessel to channel excess magic, a sign of trust and intimacy.Me, willingly becoming her vessel.The idea humbles me.I was once a gargoyle warrior beyond mortal, but now I’d do anything for her.“Yes,” I murmur. “I’d be honored, Sariah.”

Her eyes flood with tears again, brand glowing in the morning sun. She takes my hand, guiding me a few paces into the temple’s courtyard, where a slender ray of light pierces the gloom. We stand in that shaft of sunlight, dust motes drifting around us like tiny sparks of magic. My wings fold gently, tail coiling at my ankles. The brand pulses, synergy stirring in a gentle current.

She lifts her staff, tapping the butt against the cracked stone. “In the name of the synergy we forged, and the world we fought to save, I vow to stand beside you, Kaelith, in all trials. My power is yours, my love is yours, for as long as you choose me.” Her voice quivers on the last words, tears slipping unchecked.

I swallow, blinking back my own tears. Stepping closer, I place a clawed hand over hers, runes flickering. “I vow to walk with you, Sariah, wherever these roads lead. I surrender my old burdens and embrace the life we build together. My heart, my loyalty, everything I am—yours.”

The synergy between us flares softly, an aura of silver and faint gold enveloping our clasped hands. We hold each other’s gaze, letting the vow settle into our souls. The brand glows bright, and though my runes are diminished, they respond with a gentle shimmer, sealing the union. In that moment, I sense we’re truly mates—bound by choice and love, no illusions or curses interfering.

Sariah exhales shakily, shoulders trembling with relief. She leans in, pressing her forehead to mine. Our lips meet in a slow kiss charged with quiet reverence. I taste salt from her tears, my own heart pounding a steady drum. We stand there, letting the synergy swirl around us, finalizing the vow in front of the morning sun.

When at last we part, she laughs softly, voice thick. “It’s done,” she murmurs. “We are mates in both gargoyle and purna custom. Whether or not the world accepts it… I can’t find it in me to care.”

I brush my thumbs over her cheeks, clearing the tear tracks. “Nor do I,” I whisper. “We’ll face the rest together.”

Her brand pulses, synergy shifting into a warmer current that grazes my senses. A subtle tension builds in the hush, an echo of the closeness we tasted at the fortress but overshadowed by exhaustion. Now, as the sun bathes us in fresh light, we share a look that kindles something deeper: not frantic or desperate, but a tender longing to reaffirm this vow in the most intimate way possible.

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