Page 53 of His Darkest Devotion

She meets my gaze, saying nothing. I step close, letting the hush envelop us. Then, tentatively, she reaches for my hand. “I’ll station illusions along the ravine,” she says softly. “If things go bad, run to the marked path. You’ll see my illusions as faint white lights. They’ll guide you to our lines. We’ll cover your escape.”

My throat tightens.She’s giving me a route back.“Thank you,” I manage, voice cracking.

She lifts her other hand, brushing the edge of my jaw. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “You saved me from the Overlord’s fortress. Let me return the favor, if it comes to that.”

Unable to find words that match her sincerity, I lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her brow. The world around us fades for a moment—just the rhythm of our breath, the press of her body against mine, the regretful knowledge that I must leave.

I break away, forcing a steady exhale. “I’ll come back,” I promise, even though fear gnaws at me. “Wait for me.”

She nods, stepping aside. My chest feels hollow as I turn and start along the rocky path eastward, illusions swirling faintly to keep me concealed from airborne scouts. Each step weighs on me.Am I walking into a trap? Very likely. But if this can stall the gargoyles, it’s worth the risk.

The terrain grows harsher. Craggy spires jut from the earth, cliffs tumble into deep ravines. Occasionally, I spot swirling shapes in the distance—gargoyle scouts, perhaps, gliding on leathery wings. My gargoyle blood bristles each time they pass overhead, a nauseating tingle that sets me to an almost nervous breakdown.They can sense me, or I can sense them.

Near a jagged ridge, I find a narrow pass leading down into a rocky basin. My illusions flicker, but I let them thin in case Bladrik’s scouts interpret my concealment as hostility. If I want to talk, they need to see me. Heart pounding, I descend, each footstep echoing in the still air.

A thunderous roar reverberates off the canyon walls, startling a flock of crows into flight. I tense, hand creeping toward my dagger. The roar is followed by a rumble of sliding stones. Then a massive shape appears atop a stone outcrop: a gargoyle, seven feet tall, wings folded behind a bulky torso of living stone. Its eyes blaze golden in the midday glare, and it regards me with a sneer.

I swallow, ignoring the fear that prickles my skin. “I’m here to speak with Bladrik,” I call, forcing my voice steady. “He wants me—then let him show himself.”

A guttural snarl passes the gargoyle’s lips. “We know you, half-breed.” The words are rough, but comprehensible. “Bladrik said you’d come. Follow me.”

He leaps from the outcrop, landing with a crunch that rattles stones. His tail swishes, and the faint stench of sulfur emanates from his hide. My instincts scream to run, but I clench my jaw and stand firm.This is why I came.

He beckons with a clawed hand. I cast one glance behind me at the ridge. No illusions from Elira yet—she must be waiting further out. Sighing, I follow the gargoyle deeper into the basin, each step a silent prayer. The stone walls close in, overshadowed by jagged peaks.

After a few winding turns, the pathway opens into a wide hollow strewn with boulders. Dozens of gargoyles occupy the space, perched on rocks or crouched on ledges. My stomach flips at the sight—so many monstrous forms, each easily capable of tearing me apart. Their eyes track me with predatory curiosity.I’ve never felt so out of place—even among Dark Elves.

At the center stands a towering gargoyle with broad wings and a crown of stony horns. He’s nearly eight feet tall, muscle-bound, his skin mottled like basalt. A ragged scar crosses his chest, likely from some ancient battle. The aura around him crackles with raw power.Bladrik.

The gargoyle who guided me bows low before him. “Warlord, the half-breed has arrived.”

Bladrik’s golden eyes lock onto me. A smirk reveals fanged teeth. “So you’re the Overlord’s experiment.” His voice resonates deep, each word dripping with contempt.

I straighten, ignoring the tremor in my limbs. “I was never his willing creation. He twisted me.”

Bladrik steps forward, each footfall making the ground tremble. “Yet you stand here, alive, proof that the gargoyle blood stirs in your veins. We can sense it.” He inhales, nostrils flaring. “Yes… I feel it raging beneath your elf skin.”

My pulse spikes, the gargoyle side roiling in response.Focus.“I came to speak, not to join you.”

His laughter echoes among the gathered gargoyles. Some grunt or hiss in response, as though amused by my boldness. “Speak?” Bladrik echoes. “What use do we have for talk? We are awakening to claim what was stolen. Your Purna ancestors cursed us, forced us into stone slumber. Now we break free, to rule as we were meant to.”

I recall Elira’s warnings: Bladrik wants a war of vengeance. “They sealed you because you ravaged their lands. If you continue, countless innocents will die.”

Bladrik snarls. “Innocents? The purnas twisted us from our original forms. The Overlord’s experiments mocked our heritage. We owe them nothing but destruction.” His molten gaze narrows. “Yet you are proof that our blood can thrive, even in a bastard vessel. Join us. Embrace your true nature. Help us shred your weak elf kin and these human pests.”

A shudder ripples down my spine. My gargoyle instincts pulse, a primal thrumming that resonates with Bladrik’s aura.Part of me wants to join—no, I can’t allow that.I recall Elira’s face, her unwavering acceptance. “I’m no ally of the Overlord, nor do I want to destroy the world,” I say, voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “My loyalty is my own.”

Bladrik advances, wings half-spread. “So you spurn your blood? Pitiful. The Overlord wants to enslave you. The purnas want to twist or kill you. But I offer you belonging. We are your kin, half-breed.” He lifts a taloned hand, as though beckoning me to stand by his side.

A wave of dizziness clutches me, that black swirl of gargoyle essence shrieking in my veins. I gasp, dropping to one knee under the sudden pressure. Gargoyles around me hiss in excitement, sensing a struggle. My vision blurs with monstrous shapes, echoes of roars.Focus on Elira.

“N-no,” I manage, forcing my mind to latch onto the memory of her gentle voice, the warmth of her illusions. “I won’t help you slaughter innocents.”

Bladrik’s lips peel back in a feral grin. “Then you fight us?”

An image of an entire gargoyle horde rampaging across the land sets my nerves on fire. “If I must,” I breathe, summoning what courage I can. “But I came to propose a different path—stay out of this war. Don’t let the Overlord manipulate you, or the Red Purnas. You’re free now. Why wage mindless destruction?”

A hush falls among the gargoyles. Bladrik’s eyes flash. “You dare speak of freedom to me, half-breed? Our vengeance is centuries overdue. The purnas will try to seal us again. The Overlord wishes to command us. We respond by crushing them first. This is our world to reclaim.”

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