A final surge of Power filled her as Astraia ran then dropped to her knees, momentum driving her forward and arching her back as low as she could. Within seconds she was sliding beneath the legs of the wraith, and using every ounce of strength from her bonds, she slashed her sword across the creature’s thighs.
As soon as she cleared the wraith’s legs, she bolted upright and spun to face her opponent. Shrieks split the air as the wraith fell to the ground on his knees. Glowing white and blue slashes marred his colossal thighs, black liquid pouring from the wounds.
Astraia gasped for air, her vision filled with white spots, her body much too heavy. She was still surging her bonds. Desperate, she reached down for her tether, feeling for the anchor line to rein in her bonds. But it was thin. She could not grasp the line in her mind or find Elion.
Her knees hit the ground as she struggled to fill her lungs. The glare of white and blue light did not dissipate; it continued to blast away the soot and black smoke from around her and the town. She tried to channel Power once more, to control her burnout, but she could not form the sword.
She was no longer commanding Power—it was commanding her.
She was going to burn out.
Astraia drowned in her own mind, grasping for anything to keep her afloat. She was so small in the vastness—as an endless sea with no sight of land for days.
Please. Help me, Elion. Please.
Her voice was only a whisper in the void. No one could hear her. No one would know. She would die inside her own mind.
Through her blurred vision, she could just make out the wraith struggling to stand, slower and more intentional in his movements. The slashes in his legs and the gaping wound in his side still glowed, still trying to bring down the monster.
The wraith would not go easily. He meant to end her.
And she would burn from the inside out as he cut her down.
Astraia did the only thing she could. The only thing left to do.
She prayed to the Stars who no longer listened.
Chapter 18
Though unburdened by the frailty of man, the Stars are reflections of the souls they guard and guide. Taking on the appearance of man, they give unholy eyes a familiar form to grasp as they linger in Solrend and float between memories.
The Empyrean Scrolls (Remnants of the Holy Text)
THE WRAITH WAS CLOSE. THE stench of his burning skin reached her nostrils. His black shadows attempted to cover up her light, to no avail.
Dominion’s steward dragged his broadsword on the ground, sparks dancing from the blade. His steps were uneven and slow as he raised his broadsword with both gloved hands, angled to behead her in one swift motion.
Astraia could not move. Her burnout locked her firmly to the scorched dirt.
The wraith flexed his hands, holding the hilt of his blackened sword. The crunch of his gloved knuckles grated her teeth.
She refused to close her eyes. Refused to give the demon the satisfaction of killing her in submission. If this was her end, she would go knowing her light still burned.
His arms tensed for the blow but halted. His red eyes opened wide in shock as he peered at Astraia. Black liquid poured from his mouth, streaking down his chin and coating the front of his armor.
The end of a broadsword, glowing red, protruded from the wraith’s chest. Burning the sides of the exit wound, charred flesh flaking away in the wind.
The red sword disappeared as it was yanked back.
The wraith gaped at the opening in his chest, red light still pulsing from the edges. Slowly, he turned, stumbling over his boots.
Golden-brown hair and amber eyes bore into Astraia’s.
Draven held fast to his broadsword, red light glowing from the blade’s edge. Through blurred vision, she could almost see veins of red pulsing from his exposed arms, and black smoke enveloped him.
Nodding at her, Draven turned his attention back on the demon, who now had its back to Astraia—fully focused on his new opponent.
A different sound filled Astraia’s ears. A guttural, low tone, coming from the wraith. It took her a moment to realize the wraith was speaking. The language was not of this world. It was ancient, harsh, foreboding.
