Page 79 of Feral Gods
The magic tingles against my skin, warm and vibrant where the original enchantments felt cold and rigid. Something fundamental shifts within the armor's construction—not weakening but transforming, becoming more flexible without sacrificing strength.
"Better?" she asks, stepping back to assess her work.
I roll my shoulders, feeling the difference immediately. "More responsive. Less constricting." I meet her gaze with genuine gratitude. "Thank you."
She nods, but doesn't turn to leave as expected. Instead, she studies me with an intensity that suggests unspoken concerns.
"Speak your mind," I encourage, recognizing her hesitation.
"This plan," she begins carefully. "Your role carries the highest immediate risk."
"As it should." I secure my final piece of armor—vambraces that protect my forearms while leaving my lethal talons unencumbered. "I'm the most expendable."
Her expression hardens immediately. "Don't say that. Ever."
The vehemence in her tone catches me by surprise. "Tactically speaking?—"
"No." She steps closer, fire in her dark eyes. "Not tactically, not strategically, not in any sense are you expendable, Thane. Not to this mission. Not to this family. Not to me."
The declaration strikes deeper than any physical blow could reach. Throughout my existence—first as elite warrior, then as cursed gargoyle—my value has always been measured by my utility in battle, my effectiveness as a weapon. To be valued for myself, beyond my tactical usefulness, represents a paradigm I have no framework to process.
"I will exercise appropriate caution," I promise, the words inadequate to the emotion behind them.
"See that you do." She rises on tiptoes to press a kiss to my jaw—the highest point she can reach without assistance. "Because if you sacrifice yourself unnecessarily, I will find a way to resurrect you just so I can kill you again myself."
The fierce declaration, delivered with absolute conviction, startles a laugh from me. "A terrifying prospect indeed."
Her answering smile carries equal parts determination and affection. "Remember that when you're contemplating heroic last stands."
As she turns to leave, I catch her wrist gently. "Kaia."
She looks back, questioning.
"I have led many troops into many battles," I tell her, choosing words with unusual care. "But never have I fought for a cause that mattered more to me personally. Whatever happens today—know that you transformed our existence from mere survival to something worth fighting for."
Emotion flashes across her expressive features—surprise, tenderness, resolve. "Then let's make sure we all survive to enjoy that transformation."
With that promise hanging between us, she departs to complete her own preparations. I finish securing my armor, check my weapons, and move toward the cavern's exit where Ravik awaits with final instructions.
The tactical part of my mind catalogs environmental factors—fading daylight that will soon give way to our stronger night form, approaching storm that might mask our movements but complicate terrain navigation, enemy forces moving with precision born of centuries of military discipline.
But beneath these practical considerations runs a deeper current of awareness. For the first time in my existence, I fightnot for duty or survival or battle-glory, but for something far more precious.
Family. Home. Love.
Concepts I once dismissed as weaknesses revealed now as the ultimate strengths.
As I step into the gathering dusk, wings extending in preparation for flight, I embrace this new understanding. Let King Kres bring his elite guards. Let Morwen unleash her curse-craft. They face something they cannot comprehend—four beings united by choice rather than compulsion, each stronger for the bond they share.
The warrior in me still hungers for the clash of battle, the test of strength against worthy opponents. But now that primal drive serves a higher purpose than mere violence.
Tonight, I fight not just with talon and wing and battle-rage, but with the fierce certainty that what we defend deserves every sacrifice short of surrender.
And surrender has never been in my nature.
20
ZAPHYR
