Page 28 of Feral Gods
As we guide her from the chamber, I cast one last glance at the altar. The sigils continue to pulse with magenta light, but now I notice something I missed earlier—small, subtle alterations in the patterns, modifications to the original designs that seem to have occurred during Kaia's interaction with them.
She didn't merely activate the defenses; she rewrote them on some fundamental level, integrating her essence into the temple's magical architecture in ways I don't fully understand. The implications are both fascinating and concerning—what else might change as her latent abilities continue to awaken?
As we descend toward the lower levels, Kaia between Ravik and myself with Thane taking rear guard, I find my scholarly excitement balanced by growing concern. If Kaia truly possesses Elowyn's bloodline and magical potential, she represents both our greatest hope and a significant unknown variable.
The question now is whether we can help her harness that potential before Morwen's forces breach our defenses—andwhether the magic awakening within her will prove salvation or danger to us all.
One thing is certain: the fragile human woman who came into our sanctuary seeking refuge has become the epicenter of forces beyond any of our expectations. And I find myself strangely protective of her, not merely as a valuable asset or intriguing mystery, but as someone whose courage and resilience have earned my genuine respect.
Whatever comes next, we face it together—gargoyles and purna descendant, united by circumstances none of us could have predicted, bound by connections growing stronger with each passing day.
9
THANE
Blood sings beneath my obsidian skin as I stalk through the dense forest of Causadurn Ridge, every sense attuned to the morning wilderness. The snow has retreated to patchy islands amid the emerging spring growth, leaving the ground soft and ideal for tracking. Ahead of me, Kaia moves with surprising stealth for a human, her steps careful and deliberate as I've instructed.
"There," I whisper, pointing to a set of three-pronged tracks pressed into the soft earth. "Dae. Female, by the depth and size. Traveling alone."
Kaia crouches, her slender fingers hovering above the impression without touching it. "How can you tell she's alone?"
"Daette rarely travel without their young in spring unless separated from the herd." I kneel beside her, close enough that my wing brushes against her back. The contact sends an unexpected ripple of awareness through my body. "See how she pauses here? Listening, uncertain. A daette with her herd moves with confidence."
Kaia's scent washes over me—clean snow and wild honey with an undercurrent of something distinctlyher. Thepossessive instinct that's been growing since her magical display yesterday claws at my insides. She belongs with us now, not just as our ward or the temple's miraculous key, but as something more. Something primal that even my battle-hardened mind struggles to define.
"You're a surprisingly patient teacher," she says, glancing up with those forest-green eyes that somehow make me feel simultaneously powerful and disarmed.
I bare my teeth in what might pass for a smile. "Don't spread that rumor. I've a reputation to maintain."
Her laugh—a sound still rare enough to be precious—ripples through the clearing. "Your secret's safe with me, fearsome gargoyle."
The teasing light in her eyes makes my chest tighten in ways that have nothing to do with battle-lust or hunger. I rise abruptly, uncomfortable with the sensation.
"Come. If we track her carefully, she'll lead us to the herd. Fresh meat for the sanctuary."
We move through the underbrush, my massive form somehow making less noise than I would have expected. Centuries as a warrior taught me stealth before I was cursed into stone, and those skills have returned with surprising swiftness.
"Why did you suggest this hunt?" Kaia asks as we follow the tracks deeper into the forest. "Ravik wasn't pleased."
The memory of Ravik's thunderous expression when I proposed taking Kaia beyond the temple's immediate protection brings a rumble of satisfaction to my chest. Our commander grows too possessive, too quickly. The human deserves to learn survival beyond stone walls.
"Ravik forgets you survived six years in Vathren's household and a blizzard that would kill most of your kind," I reply. "You're not porcelain to be sheltered. You're steel to be tempered."
Something flickers across her face—surprise, perhaps, or appreciation. She's not accustomed to being seen as capable rather than fragile.
"Besides," I add, "you need to understand the land surrounding our sanctuary. If enemies breach our defenses again, knowledge of escape routes could mean the difference between freedom and recapture."
The practical justification satisfies us both, though neither acknowledges the deeper truth—that I simply wanted her company, away from Ravik's domineering presence and Zephyr's scholarly lectures.
We track the daette for nearly an hour, moving deeper into the ridge's forested slopes. The trees grow denser here, ancient tiphe giants whose twisted branches create a canopy that dapples the forest floor with shifting patterns of light and shadow.
Kaia stops suddenly, her head tilted. "Do you hear that?"
I freeze, extending my senses beyond our immediate surroundings. At first, I detect nothing unusual—the whisper of wind through branches, the distant call of mynahs, the subtle movements of small creatures in the underbrush. Then I catch it: a faint hum, like the vibration of a plucked string, coming from somewhere ahead.
"Stay behind me," I command, instinctively placing myself between her and the unknown sound.
"What is it?" she whispers, pressing close to my back.
