I turn. Triumph curdles to dread.
One of the leeches I was sure had died—shouldhave 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 beyondrepair. 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.
The world trembles beneath my feet, an unsteady, shifting thing. Strong arms wrap around me, and I’m enveloped in a familiar, leathery scent.
“You saved them,” Kaelzar’s low voice rolls over me like cooling rain, his hold firm enough to keep me upright. “Every single one of them is alive because of you.”
It hits me then, it’s not the world that’s shaking. It’s me.
The ground seems to shift in recognition of the impossible: I fought monsters. I survived. And not just survived, Isavedpeople.
I am capable of saving lives, not only my own.
Though with the way my head spins, I’m not sure I managed to save myself.
The air thickens suddenly. From the far edges of the arena, seven Sibyls emerge from the shadows. Their synchronized steps echo faintly against the sand until they stop at the center. When they speak, their voices merge as one, resonant and otherworldly, vibrating from every direction at once.
“Champions,” they intone, “you have served well today, each of you proving your worth to the people of Calcatra. But only four may leave victorious.”
My gaze flicks to the other Champions who stood by their Sanctums, untouched by the fight.
