I scream.
Of course I scream.
I meant it when I said my feet belong on the ground, but as my hair whips around my face while we plummet, my scream is stolen from my lips as my heart beats wildly in my chest. The ground grows closer, but just when true panic begins to set in, his wings snap out and we’re soaring again. I nearly swallow my tongue at the shift in direction, at the way my stomach drops and rearranges itself inside my abdomen.
I wrap myself around the gargoyle, both terrified and excited. It’s exhilarating, but I’m also achingly aware I don’t have my own wings to catch me.
“How are you faring, Cora the Fearless?” he asks, and there’s laughter in his voice that I like way too much.
“Just great,” I grumble, clinging tighter. “A little warning would have been nice.”
“Where would be the fun in that?” he responds as he swoops to the right and sails through the air around the castle. He aims for a section behind the castle, past where we were always meant to go, to a large stone outcropping covered with trees. The trees around it still have a green tinge to them, as if they are not quite as dead as the rest of the Dead Lands.
Razcorr lands on steady legs, and that’s when I notice the cave. He gently puts me on my feet, keeping a hold of me until I don’t wobble, before giving me space to gather my bearings.
The cave wouldn’t be exciting if not for the very purposeful markings around the entrance—the same sort of language that was in the history book.
“What is this place?” I ask, glancing between him and the opening.
“A holy place. Long ago, before the first monster king was crowned, the gargoyles protected this land. This is where the first gargoyle was born, or so the story goes.” He smiles at me. “It is also a place where gargoyles bring the people most important to them.”
I try not to let that go to my head. “Why?”
“Sometimes, it’s to simply show their history. Other times, it’s to receive a blessing.” He gestures toward the entrance. “Come, I’ll show you inside.”
The moment we get closer to the entrance, I feel a deep pulse of magic far more ancient than what I’ve experienced before. It beckons me inside and promises a message of some sort. Frowning, I follow Razcorr inside, wondering at the strange call. The markings continue along the walls inside, artfully carved into the stone with sharp tools. Some of the pictures are decorated with paint that is far from peeling, though I can feel the ancient work of their swirls. There are vases in recessed parts of the walls, and I don’t know what they are for, but they feel important. The cave opens up into a larger chamber, and I gasp at the sight.
“Are they all alive?” I ask, my eyes wide.
Around the chamber are dozens of stone gargoyles, each as different as the next, perched in their frozen state. Each stand on their pedestal, waiting for whatever they may need.
“They have returned to the eternal sleep,” Razcorr replies, staring at his brethren. “Gargoyles do not die naturally. It is our duty to decide when our place in this realm is finished.”
I look at him sharply. “So, one day, you’ll just turn to stone and never wake up?” He inclines his head. “How incredibly sad.”
“It is our way,” he reasons. “However, as long as I have a purpose and a reason to remain in this realm, I will do so, which brings me to why we are here.” He gestures to the pool in the center of the cave, as if a fountain has been left dormant.
Carefully, I move up to the edge and look in, seeing nothing but clear water. “What am I looking for?”
He takes my hand in his, and together, we dip our fingers into the water. At first, nothing happens, and I frown at the letdown. Perhaps we did it wrong? But then the ripples that move out from our touch come sailing back to our edge, and they explode in a rainbow of color.
Except, there’s nothing there at all.
“What—”
The colors explode outward again, like a sheen on the water, dancing around before coming back to our side. Razcorr dips our fingers again, and the color stains my fingers, leaving behind a strange, rippling mark.
He holds our hands up together, studying the matching marks, and delight fills his eyes in a way that takes my breath away. Beautiful. The gargoyle is absolutely beautiful when he smiles.
My core tightens when he looks at me. His expression turns to heat so fast, I nearly stumble beneath his gaze. I was wrong—Razcorr was just good at hiding it.
“I never believed I would find you,” Razcorr murmurs, staring at me. He tugs me close and holds me tenderly, and I’m as confused as I’ve ever been.
“What?” I say, because what else is there to say?
He pulls back and meets my gaze. “Gargoyles mate for life,” he murmurs, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. My lower abdomen flutters at the gesture. It’s tender, familiar.
“I never found my mate. I always believed I would never find one.”
