Page 32 of Feral Gods
Ravik's expression darkens. "You don't understand the?—"
"I understand more than you think," I interrupt, something I would never have dared with Lord Vathren or any dark elf master. "I survived six years in a household where one wrong glance could mean a whipping. I navigated political currents you can't imagine, invisible but watching, learning which nobles would kill for a whispered secret and which guards could be trusted not to 'sample the merchandise' when no one was looking."
My words hang in the air, heavy with implications none of us have openly acknowledged. Zephyr's expression softens with something like compassion, while Thane's eyes narrow with renewed appraisal. Only Ravik remains impassive, though a muscle ticks along his stone-like jaw.
"I agree the sanctuary offers protection," I continue, moderating my tone. "But Thane is right—we need escape routes, contingency plans. The dark elves mapped these mountains centuries ago. If King Kres commits his full forces, one entrance means one point of failure."
Zephyr nods approvingly. "The eastern tunnels could be cleared relatively quickly. They lead to a ravine beyond the likely perimeter of any siege forces."
"And leave us exposed in unfamiliar territory," Ravik counters, though his posture has relaxed incrementally. "With a human who cannot fly, cannot fight, and possesses magic she can neither control nor understand."
His dismissal of my capabilities ignites something molten in my chest—not mere anger but a deeper indignation born of years being underestimated and objectified.
"I may not have wings or claws," I reply, approaching the map table with deliberate steps, "but I am not helpless. I escaped the most heavily guarded city on Protheka during its most important festival. I survived Causadurn Ridge in a blizzard. And I broke a curse that held for centuries."
I spread my hands over the ancient map, tracing mountain passes and ravines with fingers that no longer tremble in the presence of these powerful beings.
"I don't need to be carried like a child or hidden away like a treasure. I need to be prepared—armed with knowledge, skills, and yes, eventually control over whatever magic flows in my blood."
The chamber falls silent as my declaration settles among us. In the quiet, I become acutely aware of how close I stand to Ravik, close enough to feel the heat emanating from his massive form, to see the intricate patterns etched into his obsidian skin. Despite his frustrating protectiveness, I cannot deny the flutter in my stomach when those amber eyes focus solely on me.
Before anyone can respond, a high-pitched tone cuts through the tension—a keening sound emanating from the neptherium nodes embedded in the temple walls. The blue glow intensifies, pulsing in a distinct pattern.
"Perimeter breach," Zephyr announces, already moving toward the entrance hall. "Northwestern quadrant. Multiple signatures."
"How many?" Ravik demands, all personal conflict forgotten as he shifts seamlessly into combat readiness.
Zephyr presses his palm against a pulsing sigil carved into the wall. "Eight... no, twelve distinct entities. Moving quickly, in formation."
"Elite guard," Thane growls, retrieving twin blades from where they rest against a stone column. "Not scouts this time."
Ravik's wings flare wide as he issues commands with practiced efficiency. "Zephyr, inner defenses. Thane, western approach." His gaze falls on me, hesitating only briefly. "Kaia, to the inner sanctum."
Part of me wants to argue, to insist on helping defend our home. But I recognize the pragmatic truth—I would be more hindrance than help in direct combat against trained dark elf warriors. Instead, I nod and move toward the corridor leading deeper into the temple.
Ravik catches my arm as I pass, his massive hand gentle despite its deadly capability. "Stay within the warded chamber. If we fall?—"
"You won't," I interrupt, surprising myself by placing my palm against his chest, feeling the living stone warm beneath my touch. "But if things go badly, I'll remember the eastern tunnels."
Something flickers in his amber eyes—respect, perhaps, or possibly something deeper. He nods once, then releases me, turning to join Thane at the sanctuary's entrance.
I hurry through winding corridors, deeper into the mountain temple. The inner sanctum Zephyr prepared glows with protective sigils—some ancient, others newly activated by my inadvertent magic two days ago. The small chamber feels secure but confining, a gilded cage regardless of its necessity.
From this depth, I cannot hear the sounds of battle directly, but the temple itself seems to resonate with distant impacts. I pace the perimeter, examining each symbol etched into the walls. Some now feel familiar, their purpose almost intuitive after Zephyr's patient instruction. Others remain mysterious, their magic humming just beyond my comprehension.
I don't know how much time passes—minutes or hours—before the chamber door bursts open. Thane fills the entrance, his iron-black skin streaked with what can only be dark elf blood, crimson eyes blazing with battle-fury.
"We need to move," he announces without preamble. "They've breached the main hall."
My heart stutters. "Ravik? Zephyr?"
"Holding the secondary position." He extends a clawed hand. "Come. Quickly."
I take his hand without hesitation, noting how carefully he adjusts his grip to avoid injuring me with talons that just moments ago were likely tearing through dark elf armor. He leads me through unfamiliar passages, descending rather than climbing.
"Where are we going?" I ask, struggling to keep pace with his longer strides.
"Deeper sanctuary." His voice is clipped, focused. "Ancient chamber Zephyr discovered yesterday. Heavily warded."
