It didn’t let go, though. It couldn’t.
Dangling from the shale, it drew on strength from deep within its blackened soul. Opening its mouth, it screamed to the heavens as it pulled on its dead arms.
Up, up, up.
Every inch hurt more than the last.
Magic was a heavy wall shoving against the creature, trying to force it to remain within the upright coffin.
“No.” The word was mangled and rough.
Freedom was so close; it could taste it.
The creature dug its fingers into the rock, but it slipped.
No, no, no.
It slammed its hand against the shale, grappling for a handle. A ledge. Something. Anything.
A nail ripped off, and fire ran through the creature.
It screamed.
If it could still cry, tears would’ve flowed down its cheeks.
It dangled, feet scrambling at the shale.
Everything hurt, but what was pain when freedom was so close?
Up, up, up, the ancient being forced itself past the oppressive powers keeping it in place.
Inch by inch, it emerged into the night.
Soon, the top half of its body hung out of the tomb. The magical weight was heavier than ever, trying to shove it back inside.
The creature would not be pushed around.
Not when freedom was so close.
With one final push and a ragged cry, it shoved itself out of the tomb and fell, landing facedown on a frozen, white sheet.
Snow, the creature’s mind supplied a moment later.
Digging fingers into the snow, it shivered.
The tomb hadn’t been warm, but this…
This was awful.
Tattered rags hung from the creature’s once beautiful body, doing nothing to prevent the bitter air from seeping into its bones. Teeth clattered together as the creature gathered its remaining strength.
It couldn’t stay here.
The air was thick with danger, and old magic remained, even now.
Resolve seeped into the creature’s mind, and despite the agony still running through its arms, it pushed itself up onto trembling feet. Throwing out a bony hand, it leaned against the tomb and drew in shaky breaths.
The creature’s toes curled in the snow. Cold. So, so cold.
