Page 49 of Feral Gods
"And exhausting," I admit, feeling my knees weaken as the initial surge of power begins to ebb. "I don't know how long I can hold it."
"You don't need to," comes Ravik's commanding voice from behind us. He strides into the chamber, his obsidian form bearing numerous minor wounds but moving with undiminished power. "Thane has engaged their forward elements. We have a brief window to reach the eastern tunnels."
His amber gaze takes in Zephyr's injury and my trembling hands still maintain the barrier. Without comment, he lifts me effortlessly into his arms, allowing me to maintain focus on the shield while conserving physical strength.
"The grimoire," I manage, remembering the precious text we've left in the archive. "We can't leave it for them."
"Already secured," Zephyr assures me, moving to follow Ravik despite his injury. "Along with the most critical records from the hidden chamber."
As Ravik carries me from the defense chamber, I maintain the barrier behind us, creating a temporary wall between our retreating forms and the purna witch struggling to regain her footing. The effort drains me further, black spots dancing in my vision as my untrained power reaches its limits.
"Almost there," Ravik murmurs, his deep voice vibrating through his chest against my ear. "Hold on, little flame."
The endearment—so unexpected from his usually formal speech—gives me a final surge of determination. I maintain the barrier until we reach the corridor junction leading to the eastern tunnels, where Thane rejoins us, blood dripping from a gash across his massive forearm.
"Four down, two remaining," he reports grimly. "The witch and one dark elf commander. They're regrouping, likely calling for reinforcements."
"Then we don't linger," Ravik decides, shifting me in his arms as my barrier finally collapses, my strength utterly spent. "The eastern tunnel to the ravine, then north toward the high passes."
As consciousness begins to slip away, I'm aware of three truths with perfect clarity—my life has changed irrevocably, my power is both salvation and danger, and these three beings carrying me to safety have become more essential to me than I ever anticipated.
"I'm sorry," I whisper as darkness encroaches. "For bringing this down on all of you."
"Never apologize for who you are," Zephyr responds, his scholarly voice warm with emotion I'm too exhausted to fully process. "You saved us today, Kaia. With courage and power entirely your own."
It's the last thing I hear before exhaustion claims me completely, carrying me into darkness cradled in Ravik's strong arms, Thane's protective presence ahead, Zephyr's wounded but steadfast form behind—surrounded by the strange, fierce family fate has granted me.
14
THANE
My blood hums in anticipation as I track the retreating dark elves through the forest surrounding our temporary refuge. We abandoned the temple sanctuary three days ago when the purna witch and her forces breached our defenses, fleeing through the eastern tunnels to this abandoned hunting lodge nestled high in Causadurn Ridge. The primitive stone structure lacks the temple's ancient protections, but its isolation and the treacherous mountain paths leading to it provide their own security.
The scent of fear and wounded pride hangs heavy in the pre-dawn air, guiding me unerringly toward my prey. Five elite warriors, remnants of the force that followed us from the temple, their trail weaving through dense stands of tiphe trees still shrouded in morning mist. They move quickly but carelessly, making no effort to conceal their passage—a tactical error that will cost them dearly.
I pause atop a rocky outcropping, surveying the valley below through the predator's eyes. My crimson gaze pierces the gloom, tracking the dark elves' progress as they approach a narrow ravine. Perfect. The confined space will limit their mobility andprevent them from surrounding me. Let them think they've escaped, right until the moment they discover the trap they've wandered into.
With practiced silence, I launch myself from the ridge, wings extended just enough to control my descent without creating telltale wind currents. I land on a massive boulder overlooking the ravine entrance, my iron-black skin blending with the shadows cast by ancient conifers. The twin blades strapped to my back remain sheathed—this hunt calls for more intimate weapons.
The first dark elf enters the ravine, sword drawn, violet eyes scanning the path ahead while completely failing to look up. The second follows, then the third. I wait, patience honed through centuries of warfare, until all five have entered the natural bottleneck. Only then do I move, dropping from the boulder to land directly behind the trailing warrior.
My claws find his throat before he can cry warning, severing arteries with surgical precision. He dies silently, his body lowered to the ground with more care than he deserves. Not from mercy, but from tactical necessity—silence is my ally until I choose otherwise.
The fourth elf senses something amiss, turning just as his companion's body touches earth. His eyes widen, hand reaching for the horn at his belt. Too slow. I close the distance between us in a single bound, driving my fist through his chest armor as if it were parchment rather than enchanted steel. His death rattle alerts the remaining three, who wheel in formation, weapons drawn.
"Gargoyle," hisses the leader, a tall female with captain's insignia on her pauldrons. "The battle-hungry one."
I bare my fangs in what might charitably be called a smile. "You remembered me. I'm flattered."
"You're outnumbered," she returns, gesturing for her remaining warriors to spread out.
"Incorrect," I reply, flexing my blood-slicked claws. "I am simply giving you the opportunity to die on your feet rather than running like prey."
Their attack comes simultaneously from three directions—well-coordinated and professionally executed. In my former life, I might have admired their discipline. Now, it merely presents a more interesting challenge than hunting them individually.
I meet their charge with savage joy, centuries of enforced stillness transformed into explosive violence. My wings snap fully open, the sudden expansion knocking one warrior off-balance. My talons find the vulnerable seam between helmet and gorget of another, while I deflect the captain's sword thrust with my forearm, the enchanted blade scraping harmlessly against my stone-like skin.
"Impossible," she gasps, violet eyes widening as her weapon fails to penetrate.
