Page 56 of Feral Gods
I stretch my fingers, still tingling with residual energy. "Tell that to the purna witch I blasted through a doorway."
"Defensive instinct," Ravik dismisses with a casual wave of his clawed hand. "Protection of self and allies is a natural expression of power, not evidence of destructive tendency."
His matter-of-fact acceptance continues to surprise me. Since the revelation of my heritage, all three gargoyles have adapted to my changing nature with remarkable equanimity Zaphyr with scholarly enthusiasm, Thane with practical assessment of tactical advantages, and Ravik with this unexpected calm acceptance.
Their adjustment seems easier than my own. Despite five days of increasingly successful magical practice, I still feel like an impostor—a slave girl playing at being a purna witch, neither identity fitting comfortably.
"What troubles you?" Ravik asks, his amber gaze unnervingly perceptive. "Your progress exceeds expectations. Even Zephyr is impressed, though he hides it behind scholarly reserve."
I hesitate, uncertain how to articulate the conflict churning within me. "I spent six years erasing myself," I finally explain. "Becoming invisible, unremarkable, safe. Now I'm supposedly heir to an ancient magical bloodline with power that makes kings and witches hunt me across continents."
"The contradiction disturbs you."
"Wouldn't it disturb you?" I challenge, meeting his gaze directly. "To discover everything you believed about yourself was incomplete at best, deliberately hidden at worst?"
His expression shifts, something ancient and pained flickering in those amber depths. "I understand more than you might imagine. Our transformation was similarly disorienting—dark elf warriors reborn as creatures of living stone, memories intact but bodies and instincts forever altered."
The comparison gives me pause. I've been so focused on my own identity crisis that I've given little thought to what the gargoyles endured during their transformation and subsequentimprisonment. "How did you reconcile who you were with what you became?"
"Through necessity," he answers with characteristic directness. "I could rail against fate or adapt to new circumstances. Only one option offered survival."
"Survival isn't identity," I counter softly. "It's mere existence."
Ravik studies me for a long moment, head tilted slightly in consideration. "Perhaps that is the difference between us. I defined myself through purpose—protect, defend, lead. The form was secondary to function."
His insight strikes deeper than anticipated. I've defined myself by circumstance rather than purpose—slave, survivor, fugitive. Reactive rather than intentional. The realization offers a new perspective on my current dilemma.
"What if I don't know my purpose?" I ask, the question emerging more vulnerable than intended.
"Then you discover it," he replies simply. "Through choice and action rather than bloodline or circumstance."
Before I can respond, a low whistle echoes from deeper within the cavern Thane's signal that he's returning from patrol. Moments later, the massive warrior appears at the tunnel junction, his iron-black form streaked with forest debris from his reconnaissance mission.
"The lower paths remain clear," he reports, crimson eyes flickering briefly to where Ravik and I sit together before continuing. "No sign of pursuit from either dark elves or the witch."
Relief washes through me. After days of constant vigilance, the possibility of temporary safety feels almost too precious to believe. "They've lost our trail?"
"For now," Thane confirms, moving to join us at the cave entrance. "Zephyr's cloaking spell on your magical signatureappears effective, and the storm two nights ago obscured our physical trail effectively."
"We should not grow complacent," Ravik cautions, though his posture relaxes incrementally. "The purna witch tracked us from Liiandor to the temple sanctuary. She will not abandon the hunt easily."
"Let her hunt," Thane growls, settling on my other side with casual possessiveness. "She'll find more than she bargained for if she locates this position."
The confidence in his tone warms me even as I recognize the danger still lurking beyond our temporary haven. Both gargoyles radiate protective heat from either side, their massive forms dwarfing mine without making me feel diminished. The comfort of their presence Ravik's steady command, Thane's fierce devotion—has become essential to my equilibrium in ways I never anticipated.
"Where's Zephyr?" I ask, noting the scholarly gargoyle's absence.
"Testing the boundaries of his detection spell," Ravik answers. "He believes he can extend its radius while maintaining effectiveness."
Thane snorts, a sound expressing both amusement and respect. "Always tinkering with magical theory while the rest of us handle practical concerns."
"His 'tinkering' has kept us one step ahead of pursuit," Ravik points out mildly. "Each of us contributes according to our strengths."
The easy exchange between them—teasing without malice, competitive without rancor—represents significant progress from the territorial tensions that marked our early days together. Something has shifted in their dynamic since our flight from the temple, a new equilibrium forming around our shared circumstances.
And around me. The realization brings heat to my cheeks as I recall the intimacies shared with both Ravik and Thane. Neither has pressed for exclusivity, seemingly reaching some unspoken agreement about our evolving relationships. Even Zephyr, though he has not yet approached me physically, watches with scholarly interest rather than jealousy.
"I should prepare the evening meal," I say, rising from the stone ledge partly to escape my increasingly heated thoughts. "The root vegetables we gathered yesterday should be ready for cooking."
