Page 94 of Feral Gods
"Sentient magic," Zephyr breathes, scholarly excitement momentarily overriding exhaustion. "Theorized but never conclusively documented. May I...?"
He reaches toward the Codex with scholarly reverence. The moment his transformed fingers touch its surface, the book shivers slightly, then relaxes—accepting his contact after brief assessment.
"Extraordinary," he murmurs as the pages open of their own accord. "It's organizing itself according to my research interests—presenting information about the gargoyle transformation first, followed by curse theory, then wildspont channeling."
"It showed me escape routes and vrakken customs," I confirm. "Earlier, it revealed my connection to Morwen in greater detail than she provided."
At this reminder, Ravik's expression darkens. "What exactly did you learn about that connection?"
I hesitate, the knowledge still raw and painful. "She spoke truth about being my direct ancestress. Twenty generationsremoved, she said. But the Codex revealed something she omitted—the circumstances of that lineage."
My three protectors wait silently, allowing me space to continue at my own pace. The consideration in their silence gives me strength to voice the difficult truth.
"My bloodline descends not from willing union but from magical experimentation. Morwen combined her essence with captured human genetic material, creating hybrid offspring with specific magical aptitudes." I swallow against sudden nausea. "Breeding stock, essentially. Generation after generation, culling those without desired traits, advancing those with promising abilities."
Horror reflects in their expressions—not directed at me, but at the cold calculation behind such a program.
"You are not defined by her actions," Zephyr states firmly, his hand covering mine where it rests on the Codex. "Genetic heritage provides material, not destiny."
"Exactly what the Codex told me," I admit, a small smile breaking through my distress.
Ravik leans forward, tactical mind already processing implications. "Does this knowledge provide any advantage against her? Any weakness we might exploit?"
"Perhaps." I turn to the relevant section the Codex obligingly presents. "Blood connection flows both ways, as I discovered during our escape. The same channel she uses to track me can potentially be used against her, though not without risk."
"What kind of risk?" Thane asks, crimson eyes narrowing with concern.
"The deeper the connection I establish, the more vulnerable I become to her influence," I explain. "It's a double-edged sword."
Zephyr's expression grows contemplative as he studies the information revealed by the Codex. "There's something hereabout gargoyle awakening—specifically, how your blood might affect those still imprisoned in stone."
"Morwen's greatest fear," I confirm. "The Codex suggests I could potentially awaken any gargoyle with similar curse constraints, creating an army opposed to the current dark elf regime."
"Explaining King Kres's personal involvement in your recapture," Ravik observes. "You represent existential threat to his rule."
"But should you?" Thane questions, surprisingly thoughtful for our usually straightforward warrior. "Awaken an army, I mean. Just because you can doesn't mean you should."
The question strikes at the heart of my own ethical struggle since discovering the stone warriors in the Heart Chamber. The power to potentially reshape Protheka's political landscape sits literally in my hands—but what right have I to make such momentous decisions? What wisdom could I possibly possess that justifies such intervention?
"I don't know," I admit, the simple truth easier than pretended certainty. "Part of me wants justice—not just for myself but for all those who suffer under King Kres's rule. Another part fears becoming exactly what Morwen represents—someone who imposes their will because they have the power to do so."
"There lies the difference," Zephyr observes quietly. "The very fact that you question your right to such power suggests you might be worthy of wielding it."
"Or perhaps worthy of choosing not to," Ravik adds, surprising me with his philosophical depth. "True power sometimes manifests in restraint rather than exercise."
As we contemplate these weighty matters, the vrakken elder approaches our terrace, its serpentine lower body moving with hypnotic grace across the crystal floor. All six hands are empty—a gesture of peaceful intent, I realize as the Codex feeds me cultural context.
"The blood-pursued finds respite," it observes in its melodic voice. "Yet questions remain heavy as stone upon your spirits."
"We have much to consider," I acknowledge, showing appropriate respect through my posture and tone. "And limited time before we must face our pursuers again."
The elder's vertical-pupiled eyes study me with disconcerting intensity. "The Codex chooses rarely and with great purpose. That it reveals itself to you when it has remained hidden for millennia suggests significance beyond your immediate concerns."
"You know of its history?" Zephyr asks, scholarly interest piqued.
"We are its caretakers, not its masters," the elder corrects. "The Codex existed before vrakken walked Protheka's surface. We merely ensured its preservation during the cataclysms that reshaped our world."
This new information sends my thoughts spinning in unexpected directions. "Then the Heart Chamber?—"
