Chapter One

Stone

She blew through the portcullis like a tempest. A thundercloud of charged chiffon. Her presence alone jostled the red ivy, snaking the citadel, thrumming the spire beneath my claws. My shoulders crackled, my wings flared, and I awoke. But after how long? A day, a year, or twenty? Memories were a heap of stained glass, shattered and shapeless without time’s brace. Waves of inky hair spilled over her shoulders, and her jaw squared with purpose, with conviction. No bystander dared crossing her path. She was striking, undeniably, but it was her surety of movement – heels clacking, long, crimson train frothing over cobbles like rapids of blood – that rendered me weak. The doors slammed open with a resounding thud, bathing her in amber. She cocked her head, eyes blazing right through me, then strode into the foyer, leaving me in darkness. Once again, all alone. I shuddered and twisted, trying to silence the murmurs prickling my skin. I would later learn this was sentience, and more, that she was the Keeper, and I, the gargoyle. Yet, she was the one made of stone.