Chapter 17
The dying leech writhes, its convulsions rattling the ground. A shudder runs through me as the stench of its rancid blood clings to my skin.
My ribs throb with every breath. My body screams at me to stop. But there’s no time.
Three more.
I whip around, yanking the hairpin from the twitching corpse. The metal is slick and warm, coated in oozing blood. My stomach lurches, but hesitation is a luxury I can’t afford.
My gaze snaps to the arena. The remaining leeches lurch forward.
Cold horror floods me. They’re not coming for me. They’re going for the people in my Sanctum.
Pleading screams tear through the air. Some cry for help, others scramble deeper into the shimmering space that was supposed to keep them safe. Kaelzar is there, steady amidst the chaos, trying to keep them as organized as he can, stopping anyone from pushing or trampling the rest.
The leeches surge, maws gaping wide, hunger twisting their movements into something frenzied and mindless.
Think. Think.
The hill. The clock.
The hourglass stands crooked on its base, the stone beneath it tilted by the shifting sand. If I can break the glass, it’ll fall. Crush them. Maybe even kill them.
I run.
Sand sprays behind me, muscles burning, the world narrowing to the towering hourglass ahead. But the leeches don’t react. They don’t chase.
They don’t even notice me.
Why would they? I’m one person. There are dozens of meals behind them.
I stop short, pulse hammering against my ribs. My mind locks on their name.
Fleshleeches. Meat. Blood.
I tighten my grip on the pin. Don’t think, just act.
I slash.
Pain explodes through my arm as the sharp tip cuts deep. A strangled gasp tears free, my fingers spasming, but I keep going.
Blood Magic surges beneath my skin, sealing the wound as fast as it opens.
I slash again. And again. Screaming—at the pain, at the rage, at the damnable efficiency of the magic that refuses to let me bleed.
Enough blood eventually wells up, dripping between my fingers. I clench my fist, forcing more to fall before the power can stitch me shut again.
Then I see movement.
All three leeches jerk their heads toward me. Their bodies whip around, teeth gnashing in a frenzy.
They come for me.
I run.
The ground quakes beneath me as they surge forward, massive bodies plowing through sand. Their screeches tear the air, suctioned underbellies rippling as they close the distance far too fast.
I veer left, then right, dodging wildly.
They don’t slow.
Something grabs my foot—a wet, suffocating clamp around my calf. It yanks me back.
I hit the ground hard, choking on sand. I thrash, clawing at the ground, but the teeth come next.
The nearest leech’s cavernous maw clamps onto my foot, its spiraled fangs shredding through the soft leather of my shoe, sinking toward my skin. I twist, kicking hard. The shoe tears free, and the creature’s jaws close on empty air while I scramble away, my leg spared.
The chaos erupts around me. Another Fleshleech collides into the first, slamming with enough force to shake the ground.
The shock knocks me loose.
I crash into the sand, gasping. The leeches want me, my mind tries to reason, but now they want me from each other.
They spiral together, a tangled, writhing mass of flesh. Wet bodies collide and crush, snapping and biting in blind frenzy.
And I’m trapped between them.
A massive coil slams me down. Another crashes over my back, shoving me into the ground. Desperation surges. I claw at the slick flesh, shoving, writhing, forcing any gap I can find.
The leeches thrash and coil, squeezing tighter. A tail whips across my side, hurling me through the air.
I hit the ground and roll, the world spinning. Teeth snap inches from my face. Another coil snakes toward me.
I can’t believe I’m still alive, still breathing.
I shove. Kick. Crawl.
Then it hits me.
They weren’t meant to fight over one person.
Many bodies. Many meals to share. That’s what’s saving me. Their monstrous instincts crave excess, not a single, struggling morsel. But my blood has ignited a hunger they can’t control.
I twist, forcing my body through a narrow gap in their writhing coils. My lungs burn, my skin slick with their foul, viscous blood. One final lunge and I spill onto open sand, scrambling to my feet.
Behind me, the leeches thrash, locked in a furious knot of teeth and flesh.
The clock looms ahead, but I risk a glance over my shoulder.
One of them is free. The smallest leech, the runt, has been flung clear of the frenzy. It rolls once across the sand and stops, pitch-black eyes fixing on me. My stomach drops.
The other two are tangled in a death spiral, their bloated bodies tearing chunks from each other until pieces of them litter the ground. They’re killing each other. Soon, they’ll both be dead. But the small one doesn’t care. It lunges.
I bolt.
The sand shifts treacherously beneath me as I tear toward the hill. Every step sinks. Every lunge drags, but I finally reach it.
The incline fights me, grains sliding away underfoot. Every inch is war. Behind me, the leech gains ground. The slithering sound of its approach sends a violent shudder up my spine. I don’t dare look back, not until I reach the top.
Almost there.
My chest heaves. Sweat slicks my skin. My legs scream, but I don’t stop. My arms tremble as I claw up the last few feet.
Then I’m there. I stumble onto the crest, gasping. And my Decay magic stirs. Rot stirs inside me. Let me out, it whispers, curling through my veins like smoke. It presses outward, hungry to spread, to consume.
I see it too clearly: the leech wouldn’t be the only thing it rots. The sand beneath me would blacken. The people—the ones I swore to protect—would die screaming, their flesh withering before they could run.
No.
I suck in a sharp breath and shove the power down. Coil. Settle.
I latch onto the pain in my muscles—anything real, anything human. The magic thrashes, fighting my command, clawing at the edges of my control.
But I win. I bury it deep. My heart hammers in my chest.
I turn, just for a second. The two larger monsters lie still, their final spasms already slowing.
Only one left.
Just one more. And it’s already coming.
I brace myself, every muscle trembling as I lunge toward the clock.
The air shifts behind me.
Instinct takes over. I throw myself sideways. The world blurs as I hit the ground and roll. A sickening crack erupts behind me.
I whip around just in time to see the leech collide, headfirst, into the clock. The impact shakes the entire structure.
A deep, hollow boom echoes through the arena. The glass trembles but doesn’t break. Not enough force.
I scramble up, fingers slipping against stone as I haul myself onto the clock’s base. The edge scrapes my skin and I notice the tiny cut doesn’t heal.
No Blood Magic left, I realize in horror. It must’ve spent itself mending the wounds I didn’t feel or notice in the frenzy below.
No healing. No second chances. It’s now or never.
The leech shudders, its maw gaping, thick saliva threading from its spiraled teeth. It coils back, gathering itself for another strike, slower now, but still deadly.
I need it closer.
I’d just have to move away fast enough. And if it won’t break the glass, at least it’ll weaken it enough for me to finish the job.
My hands shake as I drag my palm along the sharp edge again. Pain flashes white. I grind my teeth—not from pain, but from fury. For having to mutilate myself again and again under the kingdom’s gaze while the other Champions stand safely behind their Sanctum borders.
Why do I have to be the only one who cares?
With a burst of hot anger, this time turned on myself for ever choosing this path, I press my bleeding palm harder, forcing more fresh blood to rise before smearing it across my skin.
I want to quit, I realize. To stop this endless, torturous fight and let someone else play the hero.
But then my gaze drifts to the row of Sanctums on the far side of the arena, to the other Champions within, calm and untouched. All except Seraphina, who stands in front of her Sanctum, poised as if ready to defend those few behind her if it comes to that.
And I’m struck by the truth that if not me, there would be no one. No one to care. No one to stand for those with even less.
Still trembling, nerves frayed and fury burning low in my chest, I smear more blood over my skin, shaking my head at my own relentless stubbornness. The leech sniffs the air. Its maw twitches, teeth clicking in anticipation.
I press myself against the glass.
It screeches. Its body coils, then surges.
Everything slows. I see the spiral of teeth, the abyss inside its throat, the glint of hunger in its black, soulless eyes.
At the last second, I throw myself aside. The impact shudders through the clock. A fissure spiderwebs across the glass. Still not enough. Panic claws at my chest.
One more hit. Just one.
But the leech doesn’t lunge again. It waits, watching. I circle the clock, my legs trembling and exhaustion dragging at every step. The leech mirrors me.
But the clock has already shifted. Two direct strikes have loosened it from its crooked base. It’s teetering now, hovering on the edge. One more push.
I move. A scream tears from my throat as I shove with everything I have left. The clock groans. Tilts. Then it gives.
The structure slams down, the leech’s screech cut short as it’s crushed beneath the falling glass, sliding down the hill's edged slope.
A deafening crash reverberates as the hourglass collapses, splintering into the ground below. I crawl forward, gasping, following the guttural wail of a dying monster.
Shattered glass juts from the leech’s convulsing body. It thrashes once, twice, then goes still beneath the weight.
Silence.
I won.
My breath comes in ragged bursts. My body trembles. My fingers go numb. Slowly, I push myself upright. My gaze lifts and finds Kaelzar. He stands beside my Sanctum, guarding the people we saved. I saved.
Relief crashes over me, fierce and wild. I don’t hide my smile. Let him see it. Let him see me alive. But his expression isn't a relief. It’s horror. Desperation.
Even from here, I see the color drain from his face. His mouth moves—shouting? No. Warning.
His arm cuts through the air, gesturing frantically for me to look back.
I turn. Triumph curdles to dread.
One of the leeches I was sure had died—should have died—moves. Broken and slick with its own filth, it drags its body up the hill, inching closer while I was too consumed to notice.
I have nothing left. No weapon. No magic. No clock to hide behind.
The leech coils, ready to strike—
And the air splits open.
A vertical tear of black rips through space, and from its heart steps Kaelzar. One foot in shadow, the other stepping back into this world.
I see it all unfold before it happens: he’ll intercept the attack, take the full force of the leech's bite, and with it the larval curse. Pain beyond comprehension or death, if he kills it. My heart fractures at the thought.
So I move one last time.
I throw myself forward, crashing into the leech with every ounce of strength I have left, using my body as a barrier, forcing it off course.
Its maw clamps around my side, fangs like hooked blades tearing through muscle. A cry bursts from me. And then we fall. Sky and land blur. The dead leech and shattered glass rush up to meet us.
Survive. The savage instinct roars through me.
I twist mid-fall, shifting my body above the leech’s, sacrificing it for my own survival.
We hit the ground with a wet, sickening crunch. The collision sends a jagged tremor through my bones. But the leech’s scream is what shatters the moment as shards of glass drive deep into its flesh. Its grip slackens and I wrench free, rolling off of it.
My knees slam into the sand just beyond the glass.
My hands don’t.
Agony flares white-hot as glass bites deep, shredding flesh and nerve. Tears blur my vision. A raw howl rips from my throat. My whole body quivers, muscles locking, tears splattering onto torn skin as a single thought claws through me. I can’t get up this time.
This is how they’ll see me at the end: on my knees, broken beyond repair. After everything.
The thought alone sparks a surge of adrenaline—or pure, stubborn rage—enough to drag one last breath of strength into my body.
I have to move. I will move. For them. For the future. For me. I force myself up.
One inch at a time. One breath. One heartbeat. One shattered step.
I rise.