Page 5 of Feral Gods
Her expression shifts from fear to confusion, then to a cautious hope. "You... you heard me? You woke because of me?"
"Yes," I confirm, studying her reaction carefully. "Your desperation activated ancient magic woven into this temple's foundations—magic of sanctuary and protection that predates even the curse that bound us."
She closes her eyes briefly, as if struggling to process this information. When she opens them again, a new resolve has replaced some of the fear.
"The dark elves," she says, her voice stronger. "They're coming. I heard the hunting horns."
A crash and a scream echo from the temple entrance, followed by Thane's triumphant roar. I smile grimly, baring fangs that could tear through dark elf armor with ease.
"Let them come," I tell her. "They will find more than they bargained for in this sanctuary."
She studies me for a while, her gaze unflinching despite her obvious terror. "You hate them," she observes quietly. "The dark elves."
"With every fiber of my being," I confirm, a growl underlining my words. "As should any creature with sense. They abandoned us. We were once dark elves, too.”
Something in her expression softens—recognition, perhaps, or relief at finding common ground. "My name is Kaia," she offers, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I... I think I've traded one danger for another in coming here."
I lean closer still, until my face is mere inches from hers, close enough that she can feel the heat of my breath against her cold skin. Her pulse quickens visibly at her throat, prey instinct recognizing predator despite her outward composure.
"Make no mistake, little Kaia," I rumble, my voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "You have indeed found danger in this sanctuary." I reach out one clawed hand to brush a strand of dark hair from her face, watching as she flinches at my touch. "But unlike the dark elves, we repay our debts. You freed us from our curse, and so you shall have what you asked for."
"What I asked for?"
"Sanctuary," I reply simply. "For as long as you need it—and for as long as you prove useful."
Kaia's eyes flash with something that might be defiance, quickly masked behind caution. Interesting. Most humans would be broken by years of slavery, yet this one maintains a spark of spirit.
"And if I'm not useful?" she asks, her voice surprisingly steady.
I smile, showing the full extent of my fangs. "Then pray you never recover your strength enough to find out."
Behind me, Zephyr makes a small sound of disapproval, but says nothing. He knows better than to challenge me openly, especially now, when the first taste of freedom in centuries has my blood singing with savage joy and barely contained violence.
Outside, Thane's battle continues, each scream of a dying dark elf sweeter than the finest music. Soon he will return, bloodied and satisfied, and we will need to decide our next steps.But for now, I am content to watch this curious human who has unwittingly changed the course of our existence.
Kaia holds my gaze for several heartbeats before exhaustion claims her once more, her eyes drifting closed despite her obvious effort to remain alert. Wise to fear sleep in the presence of predators, but her body gives her no choice.
As she slips back into unconsciousness, I find myself oddly fascinated by her fragile form, by the spark of defiance in her eyes, by the mystery of how one insignificant human could break a curse that has held three powerful gargoyles captive for centuries.
One thing is certain Kaia may have found sanctuary in our temple, but she has also awakened something dangerous. Not just three gargoyles from stone sleep, but something within me that I scarcely recognize—a possessive, protective instinct that wars with my natural suspicion and rage.
I do not understand it. I do not welcome it. But as I watch her chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, I cannot deny it.
She is mine to protect now. Mine to command. Mine to keep.
And may the Thirteen help any who try to take her from me.
3
KAIA
Consciousness returns to me in jagged fragments. Warmth seeps into my frozen limbs, bringing with it a paradoxical pain that tells me I'm still alive. I keep my eyes closed, gathering my senses and memories, piecing together how I came to be here—wherever "here" might be.
The Festival of the Serpent. My desperate escape from Lord Vathren's household. The perilous flight through Liiandor. The snowstorm in Causadurn Ridge. The ancient temple carved into the mountainside.
And then... monsters. Or perhaps, saviors.
I crack open my eyes, just enough to assess my surroundings without alerting anyone to my waking state. A skill learned through years of slavery—observe before revealing yourself.
