I can see the archer positioned fifteen degrees to my right, drawing back his bow.
I can see the exact distance between me and the nearest barricade. Not a guess. Not an estimate. Iknowwith perfect certainty that it's eleven and a half feet away.
I can see the depth of the entire world. Everything that was flat suddenly has dimension. The arrows aren't justflying at me; I can trace their entire trajectory through space, can see precisely where they'll be and when.
Another one flies toward my blind side.
I watch it arc through the air, watch it spin, watch it drive?—
And I slow for half a step, avoiding it with ease, judging the distance and timing with perfect precision.
I'm sprinting again before I fully realize it.
Arrows rain down from above, from the sides, from positions I never could have tracked before. But now I see them all—not just with Blight's eyes, but through some strange hybrid of her vision and mine. I dodge, duck, roll, come up moving, and every step I take is more confident than the last.
An arrow streaks toward my calf. I leap over it. Another targets my shoulder. I twist, and it whistles past.
Gareth steps into my path, sword already swinging. But I see it coming—not just the blade, but the wind-up, the shift in his weight, the exact curve his strike will travel. I slide under his arm, so close I feel the displaced air from his attempted blow, and I keep running.
As I triumphantly shoot past him, a surge of determination floods through me, and I realize Blight is feeling the same thing, her resolve bleeding into mine.
Along with her strength.
The barricades aren't obstacles anymore. They're opportunities. I vault the first one and land perfectly on the other side. The gaps between obstacles that I've been misjudging all morning are suddenly obvious. I slip through them like water, and in no time at all, the goal rises directly ahead of me.
The steps are even more daunting up close. But I canseethem. Every narrow, warped board, every nail waiting tocatch an unwary foot, every place where the structure might wobble.
I scramble up them two at a time.
An archer above draws back, aiming for my head. I see it—Blight sees it—and without another thought I’m moving, ducking, believing that if I just shift my weighthere, the arrow will miss by inches…
It does.
Then the platform is nearly within reach. Five feet. Three. One.
A final arrow screams toward me.
I drop two steps. The arrowpingsharmlessly against the steps, and then I’m immediately climbing again. One hand slaps the platform's surface. Then the other. I hoist myself up and over, and somewhere behind me, I hear Blight's triumphant roar echoing my own ragged cry of victory.
I did it.
Wedid it.
Chapter Sixteen
Icollapse onto the metal platform, chest heaving.
I ache everywhere. My nerves are humming a violent, frantic rhythm, and blood is still oozing down my leg, my face.
But I'm here.
I made it.
Through our bond, I feel Blight's fierce pride mixing with my own exhausted relief, and for once, I don't immediately push her out. I let her strength continue to flood through me, letting it overwhelm me, because it takes my focus off my pain.
After catching my breath, I slowly sit up to find the mood in the arena has shifted dramatically. The soldiers who were just gleefully taking shots at me have gone quiet, their expressions uncertain. Gareth is staring up at me with something I've never seen on his face before—shock, maybe. Or awe.
I make my way back down the steps. Blight's strength starts to recede from my veins as I descend, but it lasts longenough to carry me to Gareth on steady feet. I can still see perfectly, too. Not quite the supernatural, dimensional vision of moments ago, but both of my eyes are functioning normally.
