Page 7 of Bound In Stone, Claimed In Fire

I fight the urge to close my eyes and slip into the shallow stone doze that gargoyles use for rejuvenation. However, caution keeps my senses sharp. “Sleep if you want,” I grumble, almost an afterthought. “I’ll take first watch.”

She slumps, relief washing over her features as she realizes I’m not about to snap her neck the moment she closes her eyes. In a way, the tether has forced a fragile trust. “Thank you,” she murmurs. Then she shifts nearer the fire, pressing her back against the rocky wall, cloak bundled tight around her shoulders.

I remain where I am, posture rigid. My hair stirs in the stray breeze, and I clench my jaw. My body aches from centuries of immobility, yet my mind churns. Every rustle of the wind, every scuffle of loose pebbles triggers my protective instincts, especially with the bond prickling whenever Sariah stirs.

As the minutes pass, the night’s hush envelops us. I can hear her breathing slow, though she never truly sinks into deep rest—her worry is too fresh, the mountain’s cold too biting, and the threat of Drayveth or other pursuers looms large. Occasionally, I glance at her, half-hoping to see some sign that she’s just another power-hungry purna waiting to break me. But I see only exhaustion, wariness, and an undeniable determination that belies her slender build.

Briefly, I wonder what Nerezza would make of this. Jealousy? Rage? She once swore no other purna would share my presence in any capacity. The memory chills my blood. My wings shift restlessly. If Nerezza wakes, she’ll sense me. She’ll know that I’ve formed a bond—albeit accidental—with another purna. She’ll hate Sariah for it, might even try to corrupt her the way she corrupted herself long ago.

I clamp my teeth, a growl simmering in my throat. This is exactly what I sacrificed everything to avoid. And yet here I sit, next to a mortal woman, forced by magic into an alliance. Fate’s twisted sense of humor would almost be amusing if the stakes weren’t so dire.

The minutes stretch into an hour or more, the wind carrying faint howls of some distant beast. Sariah’s breathing steadies a bit, her eyes closed though not fully asleep. I let my gaze drift to the horizon. The shape of the world outside the temple is new to me, a changed land from the days when gargoyles roamed more freely. Humans and purna have scattered across Protheka, forging enclaves, building their own meager existences. Meanwhile, the dark elves continue their cruel dominion, though that was never my war to fight—until it threatened me and my own.

Shaking my head, I focus on the immediate. Survive tonight. Keep watch for Drayveth. Then find a way to sever this tether and ensure Nerezza doesn’t annihilate us all. It’s more than enough to occupy whatever hours of darkness remain. My limbs throb with reawakened life, my heart pounding with a mixture of fury and adrenaline. I can’t deny a strange thrill, though—to be awake again,to feel the wind on my face, to sense the stirring of magic in my veins.

Yes, I’ve lost so much, but perhaps there is a chance to right old wrongs. My eyes flick to the purna’s resting form. If she can keep from following Nerezza’s path, maybe there’s hope for a new way forward. My tail coils in agitation, refusing to let me succumb to any illusions of safety.

Eventually, the fire dwindles to embers. Pale moonlight washes over the rocky crags, and the hush of the mountain night weighs heavily on us both. I remain alert, ears pricked for any sign of an approach. None comes, save the ceaseless wind.

When Sariah shifts, opening her eyes to meet mine, neither of us speaks. There’s no need. The tether thrums in the cold silence, a living bond forging us together in the face of impending doom. Far from the temple, from the seal she shattered, from the ghost of a monstrous love I once cherished, we brace ourselves for the unknown.

I clench my claws into the stone beneath me. She huddles closer to the last vestiges of warmth. Above us, the stars blaze, heedless of our turmoil.I am Kaelith,I reaffirm silently,and I will not let the darkness consume me again.Even if that means trusting one last purna—one who awoke me from eternal sleep.

Outside, the mountains stand stoic. The night marches on, indifferent to gargoyles, purna, or ancient nightmares. But within me, an ember of defiance smolders. Though the price of waking might be steep, I will face it—and I will see this through, no matter how fate twists the path ahead.

3

SARIAH

Iwake with a start, heart pounding, throat tight. At first, I think the tremors from the temple have followed me into these early morning hours, but the ground remains still. My body, however, does not. Muscles protest with every shift, an unpleasant reminder of yesterday’s ordeal—tumbling through that ancient ruin, fleeing Drayveth, then stumbling straight into Kaelith’s path. Now, I find myself shivering against the cold, curled beside the dying embers of a fire we managed to start the night before.

My gaze slides sideways. He stands at the mouth of the small rocky alcove, wings half-furled, tail coiling in slow arcs behind him. His posture screams tension. Even from where I sit, I can read the anger brimming beneath his stony expression. Kaelith is not a subtle gargoyle. The broad set of his shoulders, the carved planes of his chest—on which faint runes still glow—radiate power. He’s every bit the dangerous figure I pictured when I studied old texts about gargoyles, only multiplied by the intensity that thrums in the air around him.

A flicker of primal memory surfaces: the moment in the temple when his eyes first snapped open, molten gold shards piercing the darkness. I recall how his hand clamped around my arm as the floor collapsed. Even then, in that life-and-death chaos, his strength was impossible to ignore. Now, in the pale morning light, all of that power aims in my direction—because, in his mind,Iam the reason everything he once sacrificed is undone.

I push upright, ignoring the pinch in my ribs. My cloak slips off my shoulders, and I fumble to catch it. The extra cloth he reluctantly lent me last night is still draped across my lap, stiff with dried dust. This small reminder of our forced cooperation draws an uneasy flush to my cheeks. We’re bound by necessity more than trust.

He senses my movement and swivels to face me fully, leonine grace in every step. When his eyes meet mine, my pulse stutters. That blazing gold is merciless, with a faint ring of red-gold matching the lines that trace across his obsidian skin. Standing there, he radiates an aura of seething aggression wrapped around something deeply wounded. And I’m the unintentional cause of that pain.

His voice, low and rough, shatters the fragile hush. “You’re awake.” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation, somehow.

I swallow. “I am.” My words come out quieter than I intend, but I square my shoulders. If I’m going to survive with Kaelith, I can’t cower. Not after all I’ve been through with my coven—and not after tangling with Drayveth.

As if reading my reluctance, he closes the distance in two strides, looming over me. The early sunlight streaming across the mountainside catches the silver threads in his black hair. The lines across his chest pulse once, faint but insistent. “You broke a seal that was never meant to be undone,” he rumbles, each syllable radiating condemnation. “Nerezza stirs because of you.”

Heat flares in my cheeks. I scramble to my feet, annoyed by how I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. “I apologized,” I say, fighting to hold my composure. “What more do you want from me? It was an accident—one I regret. You think I wanted to release some ancient monster?”

He bares his teeth, a silent snarl that sets my nerves on edge. “Wanting has nothing to do with it,” he snaps. “The fact remains: you disrupted a centuries-old prison that I paid a steep price to maintain.”

My heart stutters at the raw edge in his words. It reminds me that he once loved this Nerezza. He sealed himself away to protect the world from her. That kind of sacrifice isn’t made lightly. But I’m too exhausted to coddle his wounded pride. Yesterday was the worst day of my life, and the entire future now looms precariously—and it’s not exactly all my fault.Drayveth pushed me here. My coven’s betrayal forced me to run.I didn’t just waltz into that temple for fun.

I cross my arms over my chest, ignoring the twinge in my shoulders. “I didn’t plan on unsealing anyone or anything. I was trying to protect myself from Drayveth. Either I used the glyphs, or he would’ve dragged me back to my coven—or killed me outright. So yes, I messed up, but I had no choice.”

He huffs, tail flicking in agitation. “No choice? That excuse might matter if the fate of this continent didn’t hang in the balance.”

Anger sparks in my veins. “Don’t talk to me about choices,” I counter, voice rising. “You think Ichoseto become an exile? You think Ichoseto live in fear, always running from the only home I had? My mentor turned on me because I was too strong for his liking, or too unpredictable. My own coven—the people who were supposed to guide me—branded me, calling me a traitor for refusing to bend. If that’s not a lack of choices, I don’t know what is.”

Something flickers across his face, a shadow of surprise. He probably didn’t expect me to stand my ground. His wings shift, feathers of tension rippling through them. The pressure between us intensifies, two unstoppable forces glaring at one another.I will not back down.I’ve come too far, lost too much, to let another figure of authority bully me. Even if this gargoyle is monstrous in strength.

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