Page 55 of Feral Gods
Her perception startles me. I've never considered physical intimacy as revealing vulnerability—quite the opposite, in fact. Yet something in her expression suggests she's seen beyond the warrior exterior to something I've kept carefully hidden, perhaps even from myself.
"I am what circumstances have made me," I reply, uncertain how to respond to such insight. "Stone and claw and battle-lust."
"No," she counters gently, one hand coming up to trace the line of my jaw. "You are what you choose to be, despite circumstances. Protective rather than destructive. Considerate despite your primal nature. Capable of tenderness as well as terrible violence."
Her assessment strikes deeper than anticipated, challenging long-held self-perceptions. I've defined myself by battle prowess since awakening, accepting the gargoyle's primal nature as my only truth. Yet her words suggest another possibility—that transformation changed my form but not my essential self, that choices remain despite circumstances.
Before I can formulate a response to this unsettling insight, sounds from outside alert us to Ravik and Zephyr's return. Kaia sighs, pressing a final kiss to my chest before rising to retrieve her scattered clothing.
"Perfect timing," she observes with wry humor. "Just as things were getting philosophical."
I watch her dress with unconcealed appreciation, still processing the implications of our encounter—not merely the physical pleasure, which was considerable, but the emotional landscape she's somehow managed to unearth beneath my warrior's exterior.
"Kaia," I call softly as she finishes adjusting her tunic. When she turns, I find myself momentarily lost for words, uncertain how to express the complexity of what I'm feeling. Finally, Isettle for simple truth. "What happened between us—it matters to me. You matter."
Her expression softens, understanding the significance of this admission from one not given to emotional declarations. "You matter to me too, Thane. Very much."
The door opens then, ending our private moment as Ravik enters, his commanding presence filling the small space immediately. His amber gaze takes in our disheveled appearance, the lingering scent of intimacy, the furs still bearing evidence of our activities. Something flickers in his expression—not anger or jealousy as might be expected, but something more complex, almost approving.
"The caves are prepared," he announces, practical concerns superseding personal dynamics. "We move at sunset."
As Kaia moves to help gather our supplies, she passes close to Ravik, their proximity generating an almost tangible current of awareness. Yet instead of possessive display, he merely inclines his head slightly—acknowledgment rather than challenge.
At that moment, I recognize a fundamental truth about our evolving situation. What grows between the four of us transcends simple possession or hierarchy. Each connection forms its own unique pattern Ravik's protective intensity, Zephyr's intellectual bond, my own primal devotion—creating something stronger than individual claims.
For a being defined by battle and territory, this revelation should disturb me. Instead, I find it strangely satisfying—not diminishment of connection but expansion, not competition but complementary strength.
As we prepare to abandon our temporary refuge for yet another, I watch Kaia move between us with growing confidence—no longer merely our ward but our equal in all the ways that matter. Whatever dangers lie ahead, whatever enemies pursue us, we face them not as separate entities but as something newand unprecedented—a family forged through choice rather than circumstance, bound by ties stronger than blood or magic.
For the first time since our awakening, I find myself looking toward the future with something approaching hope.
15
KAIA
Mountain air flows cool and crisp through the cave entrance, carrying the scent of tiphe needles and distant snow. Two days have passed since we abandoned the hunting lodge for this higher refuge—a network of natural caverns expanded generations ago by someone with considerable skill in stone-working. Zephyr believes it might have been a purna sanctuary during one of the periods when dark elves hunted their kind, though the evidence is circumstantial at best.
I sit cross-legged on a flat stone near the cave mouth, hands extended palms-up on my knees, practicing the breathing techniques Zephyr taught me yesterday. The mountain panorama stretches before me—jagged peaks piercing a cloudless sky, ancient forests clinging to steep slopes, a ribbon of silver marking a distant waterfall. The vastness should make me feel small and insignificant. Instead, I find it oddly comforting, as if the ancient landscape puts my personal troubles into perspective.
"Visualize your energy as a flame," I murmur to myself, recalling Zephyr's patient instruction. "Not consuming but illuminating, revealing what already exists within."
The familiar warmth builds in my center, flowing outward along invisible channels to pool in my palms. After several days of practice, I can manifest the magenta light at will, though controlling its intensity and duration remains challenging. According to Zephyr, the Flamekeepers were named for their affinity with this particular manifestation of magical energy—neither elemental fire nor divine light, but something uniquely their own.
My bloodline's legacy. My inheritance. My burden.
The magenta glow pulses between my hands, responding to the conflicted emotions the thought generates. I take another deep breath, focusing on stabilizing the manifestation. The light steadies, forming a perfect sphere that hovers an inch above my palms.
"Impressive progress."
The voice—familiar yet unexpected—breaks my concentration. The sphere flickers and vanishes as I turn toward Ravik, who stands silhouetted against the deeper darkness of the cave interior. His massive obsidian form moves with surprising grace as he approaches, amber eyes reflecting the late afternoon sunlight.
"Three days ago I couldn't create it at all," I point out, shifting to make room for him on the stone ledge. "I'm still far from controlling it properly."
He settles beside me, wings folded neatly against his broad back. "Control comes with practice. The raw power was always there, merely dormant."
The observation brings a wry smile to my lips. "Like having a volcano beneath my skin without knowing it."
"An apt metaphor," he agrees, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly. "Though perhaps less destructive than you imagine."
