Elvira snorted into her hand, Finn folded in half laughing.

  “Oh, the umbrifelis genuinely does not give a damn,” he choked. “That’s character.”

  “Moorka, what are you doing?!” I lunged for her — but at that exact moment the air above us began to tremble.

  I looked up. The gargoyle Moorka had just marked seemed to shift, ever so slightly. A shadow rippled across its stone surface, though the light around us hadn’t changed.

  It was as if something had taken a deep breath.

  The stone wings twitched. Slightly. Shifted.

  I blinked.

  “Did you see that?” I whispered.

  The stone eyelids, which had seemed part of the carving, slowly lowered… and lifted again. The gargoyle’s chest expanded. Stone that had seemed utterly lifeless emitted a heavy grinding sound — the sort you’d expect from tectonic plates reconsidering their alignment.

  Dust trickled from its shoulders. It was waking up. Claws flexed, its head turned very slowly, and then it looked at us.

  “Holy undead,” Finn muttered, suddenly upright, fumbling for a charm in his pocket.

  “Fantastic. Absolutely top-tier planning,” I said, clapping once in disbelief. “We came to walk a cat, we’ve unlocked a boss fight.”

  “No,” Finn replied, staring at the gargoyle as it unfurled its wings. “We’ve unlocked being eaten.”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Moorka, having completed her masterpiece, vanished down the corridor like an unpaid intern avoiding responsibility. The monster slowly turned its head toward us.

  “Run!” Elvira shouted, already gone.

  Only as I bolted did the obvious dawn on me. Why was I standing there observing the stone nightmare wake up? I should have bolted the moment it twitched.

  I sprinted after my friends. My heart detonated in my chest. The air thickened. My stomach cramped painfully. Adrenaline slammed through my system like it had something to prove. Behind us came a grinding rhythm. Stone against stone. Claws scraping the floor. Heavy, deliberate steps.

  I did not look back. Looking back meant slowing down. Slowing down meant becoming dinner.

  “Faster!” Finn shouted, pulling ahead.

  A violent rush of air sliced past us. Finn yelped and swerved just in time. A stone claw smashed into the floor where he’d been. Sparks spat from the stone.

  “Damn it! It flies,” I breathed.

  Because of course it flies. The wings beat again — not graceful, not majestic. More like a cathedral deciding to attempt aviation.

  “Side passage!” Elvira yelled.

  We darted into a narrow passage between the wall and a line of statues. Less room to manoeuvre. Less space for wings. We ran, weaving between frozen figures of other gargoyles. My vision darkened at the edges. My chest burned.

  The gargoyle clipped a column. Debris rained down. It pivoted mid-air — horrifyingly agile for something that weighs as much as a modest house — and came again. Claws snapped inches from my face.

  We ran deeper into the forbidden wing. Which, in retrospect, is never the smart direction, but turning back meant open space. Open space meant wings fully extended and us neatly portioned.

  “Dead end!” Finn shouted.

  “Not dead — turn!” Elvira snapped.

  A roar erupted behind us. Close. Far too close. The monster had clearly decided we were dinner and had no intention of letting that go.

  “Door!” Finn pointed ahead.

  “And what’s your plan? Knock?” I shot back, already knowing we had no time.

  Elvira didn’t waste breath. Spell. Crack. Lock gone. We threw ourselves inside and slammed the door, pressing against it like three very panicked paperweights.

  A roar thundered on the other side. Then a slam. We exchanged looks.