Oliver whined and Marcus helped me sit up so I could hug the young gargoyle. He cradled me gently in his stone wings, his silent enhancement a balm to my battered spirit. The knowledge of how to fold the elements like a gargoyle lurked on the edge of my memory but refused to surface. Snippets of the baetyl’s pattern and the pattern of all life taunted my memory, too, but I didn’t chase them. That wisdom wasn’t meant for me, not now. Not in this life.
I rolled the elements, savoring their textures while I petted Oliver’s smooth scales. I could feel him in the boost almost like a magic signature. My awareness of Oliver wasn’t new; I’d been able to distinguish his enhancement from other gargoyles’ for a while now.
The same couldn’t be said for my newfound ability to pinpoint the location of him, Celeste, and, much fainter, the gargoyles in the baetyl, without looking. I didn’t know what to make of it, but I’d have plenty of time to think about it. Later.
When Oliver released me to snuggle against my side, I sought out Celeste with my eyes. She perched above the cave opening, giving us space.
“Rourke is safe,” I said. The last word caught in an unexpectedly thick throat as I remembered the tiger fading in front of me. Despite my best efforts, she’d died on the doorstep of her baetyl. Her profound relief at the end didn’t assuage my guilt completely, but I thought I understood it. I still wished I could have saved her.
“Your bravery will never be forgotten, Guardian Mika,” Celeste said.
I blinked away my tears and acknowledged my success. I’d done it. I’d saved the dormant gargoyles and healed a baetyl. I’d earned the title the gargoyles had bestowed upon me.
“My name is Mika Stillwater. I am a gargoyle guardian,” I whispered, feeling the truth of my words resonate through my spirit. Joy sang in my veins when I turned to Marcus. “And I want to get busy living.”
I leaned toward him and he met me halfway, a smile on his lips when we kissed.
Epilogue
The baetyl chased us off Reaper’s Ridge. By the time Marcus had repaired the sled, its malevolent, squeezing pressure had inflicted us both with splitting headaches. Jittery with a need to leave, I stumbled to collect our gear and shooed Oliver into the air to meet us down the mountain where it was safer. Celeste stayed only because she had to pull the sled, and she huddled in a tight knot, pain pinching her face. Marcus settled the loop of rope around Celeste’s chest as I was crawling into the back of the hovering sled, and she set off, shoulders hunched, the moment he joined me.
In terse silence, Marcus twined his fingers through mine, and we clutched the sides of the sled for balance with our free hands as Celeste galloped down the jagged slope, following the path of least resistance. I twisted to watch the tunnel entrance disappear, jaw clenched against the escalating pain hammering against the inside of my skull.
When a fold in the hillside hid the opening from view, my breath hitched at my unexpected grief. I’d never see the baetyl again—never again be a part of its awesome, terrifying power. Tears blurred my vision as I glanced down to my hand intertwined with Marcus’s. I wasn’t the same woman who had climbed Reaper’s Ridge. The sparkling amethyst scars in my pale flesh and the twin carnelian hexagons on my shoulder blades were my only visible souvenirs, but the baetyl had wrought changes in me that went far deeper. For a few brief moments, I’d been so much more than a singular person in a tiny, fragile body. I’d been linked with a truly ancient entity, privy to spectacular secrets beyond the scope of human understanding.
I mourned the loss of that connection far more than the loss of the baetyl’s power.
Marcus squeezed my hand. “Are you okay?” he shouted, the wind whipping his words away.
I nodded because it was easier than trying to explain, especially while being jounced around the back of the sled during our breakneck descent.
The faster Celeste ran, the tighter my fear ratcheted. I checked over my shoulder repeatedly, every time expecting to spot a ravenous monster barreling down on us. It was only the irrationality of my growing panic that helped me see it for what it really was: another of the baetyl’s natural defenses awakening. Knowing my escalating terror was generated by the baetyl did nothing to calm me. I’d been a part of its immense power—playing off my unconscious fears was the least of what it could do.
Marcus released my hand to pull his crossbow from his bag and lay it across his lap, eyes scanning for the enemy his brain told him would appear at any moment.
“It’s not real. It’s the baetyl.”
“I know, but this helps,” he said, and I realized he hadn’t notched an arrow.
Gradually, the agony in my temples subsided, along with the hunted feeling that had lodged between my shoulder blades. Celeste slowed to a less hazardous speed, but she didn’t stop to rest. Lulled by her steady footsteps and the cessation of pain, I closed my eyes, jolting awake when my body tilted.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Marcus suggested.
He scooted to the front of the sled to sit sideways behind the driver’s box, one arm draped over the seat so he could lean against it. Until a healer could mend the lacerations on his back, resting against his side was probably the most comfortable position he could attain. I stretched out with my head pillowed on Marcus’s pack and closed my eyes.
Without distractions, my new ability to sense the location of gargoyles pushed to the forefront of my awareness. They registered in my mind as unique bundles of energy, Celeste larger, based on her proximity, and Oliver smaller and distant as he circled in the sky. More faintly still were the six gargoyles inside the mountain behind me.
I could locate the baetyl with my eyes closed.
The thought pulled me from the edge of sleep. With this new power, I could detect any baetyl if I was close enough. I might not be able to get through its defenses, but I would be able to point right to it. It was the kind of knowledge people like Walter would kill for.