Chapter 19 #2
I’m almost out of the Combat Arena when Chet and his lackeys hustle past me, going out of their way to bump into me.
A pinching sensation digs in on the side of my arm where one of them nudges past me.
One of the buckles of their armor must have snagged my exposed flesh.
That’s the least of my worries as storms of chaotic emotion splinter the walls of my chest wall.
I’m unsure of what will happen if they manage to get free, but I’m not willing to find out with anyone nearby who could end up hurt.
I yearn for the snow. To run to the Mysticwoods and just lie in the ice, cooling my skin, mending the fractures of my glacial palace walls.
I try to focus on the pain of my body, rather than drowning beneath the emotions flooding my soul.
My muscles moan and ache from the lactic acid that built up from pushing my body through every fight.
I’m sure being hungover only adds to my loss of control.
At last, cool air collides with my skin. I’m not even sure how I’ve gotten outside. My mind is hazy. The Dragon Spine Mountains pierce the horizon, placing me on the north side of campus.
A deep breath inflates my chest, suppressing the screaming emotions crawling up my throat. The clouds above clot and curl with storming darkness, mirroring the tempest inside me as lightning splits the sky.
A heady sensation waterfalls over me, leaving me almost delirious. Perhaps it’s the joy of surviving my first day here. Or dehydration.
I’m not sure at first. Then it hits me like a wave all of its own.
My knees buckle under my own weight. Arms out, I stumble forward, unsettlingly off-balance as I attempt to regain my footing and grasp onto my spinning thoughts.
This is more than just exhaustion from one too many fights.
This is more than lack of sleep and a bad hangover…
Kivi had healed me after all my fights… I shouldn’t feel like this.
I shouldn’t still feel hungover. Nor should my body be exhausted and weak.
My mind reels, connecting the dots.
I’ve been poisoned.
The pinch must have been a stab-like delivery system. Clever, but cowardly for a group of males who easily outsize me. I guess they’re afraid they can’t best me at my full strength, even if they’re fighting me all together.
I mean, I did take down four out of five of them…
I crumple forward. The soil digs into my hands and knees as I try to crawl my way back to the Universitás.
My head is spinning; I don’t know which way is up.
I hear steps coming towards me, but my senses are muddled.
The sounds splinter. Coming in all directions.
A rush of pain pummels into my left side.
I gasp for air. Then another hard kick to the same spot, sending me hurtling down a sloped incline.
A hill? The world twirls in a blur now. I can’t even make out shapes.
I close my eyes, reaching for the moist, cool ground.
I find purchase, pushing myself back up on my hands and knees.
Sick, twisted laughter ricochets around me. Their familiar voices crawl like maggots along my skin. Yet there’s one among them that seems much farther away, one that’s unfamiliar.
“Not so fucking tough now, bitch,” hisses a snakish voice I know all too well. Fucking Chet.
I sigh, wincing slightly from the pain piercing my left flank. I hack up spit, slinging it in the direction of his voice. “You had to poison me like a little bitch just to land a hit on me? Pathetic,” I seethe.
A swift kick cracks under my chin, rocking my spine in an arch as my body flies backwards. A thud resonates through the occiput of my skull, colliding with the ground.
Hmm… that headache I was groaning about earlier really wasn’t bad, in comparison. Manic laughter bubbles up from my chest. I smile, licking the new metallic taste from my teeth, glinting in crimson.
“I told you this bitch is fucking crazy.” Lorgan’s hideous voice is clear as day.
Crack. Throbbing pain fractures through the side of my head from another kick.
My cackle becoming positively feral. “Even with my face covered in bruises and blood, I could still get more females into bed with me than you ever could. They come willingly, too. You’re a disgusting excuse of a male,” I spit out.
I lose myself to manic laughter, rocking on my back like a beast lost to madness.
Another kick slams my ribs, accompanied by Lorgan’s colorful array of curses. Despite every searing breath, my feral cackle grows wilder. I suppose it’s fun to join the Fates in their laughter, rather than cursing their continued attempts to bring about my early demise.
“Isn’t this fun? This fun little back and forth we play. A game for just us. Let us play!” I rave to the heavens above, as if the Fates and the universe can hear me, descending further into delirium.
My gasping, maniacal laughs of my flexed core painting me all the more deranged. I have no intention of relaxing my muscles and making it easier for them to damage my core organs.
Several more kicks bludgeon my sides. Only pausing once they finally realize my ribs aren’t breaking as expected.
The silence is sundered by severing layers of sinew.
A sharp cold slashing into my right inner thigh. Burning. Twisting. Shredding my muscles as they spin like tangled twine. A warm gush of blood, saturating my leather pants, sticky with warmth.
I don’t scream or cry. Not even a whimper or a wince. I won’t give them the satisfaction. I may not have control over anything around me, but I still have control over my body. Mind over matter. Instead, I just smile like a wildcat with crimson-stained teeth, going mad in the darkness.
“My next cut will make sure you’re a barren waste to the Bloodlines, ensuring you're worth nothing to us here. You will never be an Ellian Knight, you self-righteous whore,” Chet snarls.
This guy is one sick fuck. I mean, come on!
Rather than just getting me expelled—which frankly, at this point, would be pretty easy given my slew of misdoings to pick from—he’s concocted a vile plan to make me sterile?
Just so I can no longer perform my service and donate genetic material to the Bloodline pairings?
I know it’s our obligation to provide the next generation of powerful wielders, but would they really expel a potential, strong warrior if such a horrible thing happened?
I shudder, unwilling to continue the line of thought.
I don’t want to find out. This is a new, profound level of evil, and I’ve met my fair share.
I need to distract him, but I’m so swimmy-headed, it’s hard to think straight. I blurt out, “You’ll have to try a lot harder than that to kill me, Chet.”
“I’m not planning on killing you. I plan on savoring your suffering. But now that you put the idea in my head… how can I resist a begging female? Better yet, why kill you when we can have the Blackwood do it for us. A perfect crime, with no body or evidence to ever be found.”
Fear slithers down my spine. Curse my Celestials be dimmed fucking mouth. The edge of a weaving track of Blackwood isn’t horribly far from here, although they’ll need horses or a Pegasus to get me there, even if I wasn’t injured.
I am definitely in no state to survive the possibility of them ditching me near the Blackwood, not with the blood gushing around the knife in my leg. I need to get away from them. It doesn’t matter where. Anywhere but here will do. Adrenaline ripples through my veins.
I ignore the pain, the lightheadedness begging to break my will, and roll on to my stomach.
I lurch my arms and feet under me in one swift movement before lunging straight ahead.
A flash of light flares beside me. Thunder splits my ears as the world rumbles around me.
The wind whirls, gusting behind me, pushing forward.
The soil beneath my feet shakes, sliding into a ramp, adding speed to my sprint.
The darkness is only a blur of shapes. I summon my magic to increase my agility and strength, whatever power I have left as I bolt for my life.
I’ve never been known to run from a fight, but I’m no fool.
I can barely see, let alone land a strike, so I go with the only option the Fates have divined for me.
I fucking run.
I run with the will to survive.
I run with a force inside me that refuses to break on anyone else’s terms, other than my own. I run as if the stars above fuel my very soul, and I don’t stop until their light dims around me.
I have no clue how long I’ve been running for, but I keep going, stumbling up and down hills and tumbling over unseen obstacles.
I don’t let anything stop me until my body is no longer my own to control.
I topple, pitching over what are possibly roots.
I’m not sure, and nor do I care. I just pray to the Celestials I’ve run fast and far enough away that the gang of monsters who dare to call themselves Elarians are no longer in my wake.
My heartbeat sputters, the edges of my vision darkening.
I’m dying from blood loss. I can feel it.
My connection to magic drifts off into the distance.
I have nothing left to give this world. I’ve defeated some of the deadliest beasts of Cascara, but a couple of over-privileged brats will be the end of my curseborne story.
The story I have worked so hard to forge into something more, now slipping out of my hands.
Spilling between my fingertips just like the blood from my wound.
My skin is clammy. My heart slows down, down.
Breathing uneven. I hope Pip finds a new pawn to steal bacon from.
I smile weakly, but it doesn’t quite form.
My thoughts drift to Sully. At least I’ll see him.
Soon. Perhaps I’ll even get to meet my real mother.
My real father. Soon. The shadows beckon.
The world is silent now. Darkness swallowing me whole.