“Don’t worry,” he continued, “the pain will be worth it when I smile down at your dead and bleeding body.”
The pit of my stomach turned to ice.
He raised his knife, poised to strike.
This was it—I was going to die.
Chapter 12
“Hold close to your morality.
For when this life is over,
kindness or cruelty will find you in either the Realm of Remembrance
or the Sea of Sorrow.”
- The Old Book
“Don’t go all quiet on me now, not when we were having so much fun. Please keep talking. It’ll make ripping out your tongue even more enjoyable,” Balor snickered.
I gripped the fabric of my pants, needing something—anything—to hold on to as adrenaline coursed through my veins once more.
I was stuck somewhere between fight and flight, leaving me paralyzed.
I took a deep breath and pushed my nerves to the pit of my stomach. He wanted me to tremble, to stutter over my words. I refused to give him that satisfaction.
“Normally, I would oblige since you asked so politely, but I’m not feeling up to chatting. Instead of continuing our little song and dance, how about you leave before the commander catches you?”
Balor bellowed out a cruel laugh, and I tensed even more. Panic bubbled up inside me, and the feeling of impending doom was heavy on my chest.
“Look who’s begging for the commander to come and protect them,” he mocked. “Too bad he’s not here to save you this time.” His lip, which I had previously split, opened again as he bared his teeth at me.
Balor charged, and my feet uprooted only moments before he struck me.
I ran as fast as I could from the camp and into the chilled darkness. I could hardly see anything, but I felt comforted knowing that Balor was in a similarposition. If I could hide for long enough, then maybe he would grow bored and stop pursuing me.
Just when I thought I was getting somewhere, I tripped over a large rock and fell. I tumbled down the hill, scraping my arms. I heard Balor’s maniacal laugh in the distance. The sound of his voice grew louder as he drew closer.
I was lying on the Ground, feeling like a crumpled piece of parchment while screaming inside, telling myself toget up.
Get up.
The words were both mine and someone else’s. I felt a flood of energy wash over me as I struggled to stand. It was almost as if I were being picked up. The feeling followed me until I was upright and stable.
“Where are you, you little rat?”
He was very close now.
I ran again, but this time I circled back toward the camp. If I made it back, surely I would be safe. The other Veiled Ones didn’t want me dead.
They needed me alive for something.
I saw the lights of the camp coming back into focus—and then I felt myself get yanked back by the hair at the nape of my neck.
The tip of an icy knife caressed my spine.
“Now tell me—how should I kill you?”
