“Yes.”
They charge us. They’re smart to rush us at once, overwhelming with sheer brute force and speed. I lower my stance, assessing each man. Who to strike first. Who has preexisting injuries. Whose weight I can use to my advantage.
And they strike harder than I expect. I’m thrown off my feet into a pile of snow, but crack into two kneecaps, and block a killing blow from a sword. Grunts come from behind me, but I can’t see how well Niklaus is doing. I have to focus on the men coming after me.
With a sweep of my legs, I take two men to the ground. But to my shame, I’m not fast enough. The others start wailing on me. A foot thumping down on my stomach. Something jabs into my ribs over and over again. The hilt of a sword pops into my cheek.
“Sapphire!” Niklaus yells over the shrill chaos.
Krimson, we need your help!
My brother has always known when I’m hurt. He’s always been able to sense when I need him. It’s as if there’s an invisible tunnel that connects our minds. If we yell loud enough down its echoing canal, our cries can be heard.
Blood smears into my vision as I’m struck across the face again.
It’s all happening so fast. The blows keep coming. Somewhere behind me, I hear Niklaus fall to his knees.
“Hey!” a familiar voice shouts in the distance.
It’s not my brother.
“Get off of her!” the voice calls again, closer now.
Before another jab can land in my stomach, a body is thrown over me. A golden face looks down at me before turning to face the swords and fists.
“Uncle Niles,” I cough out wetly.
My uncle holds out his hands to greet the slashing of the blades swinging at us. He doesn’t even grunt as his palms are torn to ribbons.
“No!” I cry, blood spraying across my face.
But my uncle stays steady over my body, taking the beating as Niklaus fights to gain control.
Krimson! Please!
A violent sensation vibrates up my spine as I realize what our future holds. Uncle Niles doesn’t cry out in pain, he doesn’t hold his protective stance with a whimper. He’s strong and resilient in guarding my beaten body.
He’s going to die.
A bottomless vibration molds into my bones at the thought.Deeper than pain or fear. Louder than the shouting of men and clanking of swords.
Something shifts.
The panic of watching my uncle use his body to defend mine sets an unnatural event in motion within my core. The world doesn’t exactly spin—itsinks, like reality is being pulled apart at the seams.
Sounds of waves and astronomical winds slosh throughout the fighting. It’s loud and clanking. I whip my head at the men focused on attacking Niklaus, staring in shock to see if anyone else feels it too.
Nothing. No one reacts the way I am.
It’s like time slows down.
One second drags to the span of a minute.
And I’m the only one that notices.
The clock hand strikes at the town hall tower above me. And the whooshing is magnified. It grows and wells over my skin, a living, breathing entity. A foreign place where no one has ever gone.
I can taste the chilled particles of its air, smell its vast darkness, like seawater and stardust. And thoughphysicallynothing hits my stomach, it’s as if I’m kicked again. Like a fishing hook slicing into my core, reeling my impaled body out to sea.
