Run.
Just run.
Anywhere, as long as it wasaway.
A heavythudbehind her. Something spun through the air.
A rope with metal weights at either end slammed into her shins and tangled tight. Her legs yanked from beneath her. She hit the ground hard; her breath knocked from her lungs.
The fourth Reskala charged, fury burning — only to be lifted off the ground by one of the Glider’s bladed polearms, skewered clean through. His scream choked to silence as his body slumped. The Glider warrior looked above her — smiling, giving a triumphant cry.
Auryn struggled against her bindings, twisting, gasping. Her fingers clawed at the rope, but it wouldn’t give. She was starting to lose circulation in her legs.
Or was that fear? The sense that these might be her final moments?
Fight. Do not disappoint.
The Gliders closed in. Two women, both tall, lean, faces painted with white war lines. Their brown and auburn wings flared as they stepped forward, each wing spanning longer than a Reskala’s full height. Their weapons were lowered but ready. One of them spun her glaive with a hiss, the other raising a curved dagger glowing violet at the edge.
“Give your head for our glory,” one of the women commanded in her native tongue.
Still, Auryn scratched at the ropes. When they didn’t give again, she gritted her teeth and poured fire on them. Mana flames burned her skin, but she hardly felt the pain as the Gliders kept moving towards her.
Better suffer burns than lose her head.
Her heart thundered.
A scream built in her throat.
Weave. She had to Weave.
And then…
It came.
A sound like a thunderclap.
From above, much like the Gliders had earlier, a colossal figure dropped from the heights of the tallest nearby lattice, wrapped in a mantle of glowing runes and fury. His battleaxe ignited mid-fall, a lowhumof rage echoing in its metal.
His face was shrouded in black cloth, but Auryn didn’t need to see the scars on that visage to know the taste and feel ofthis mana.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
Zarrek.
The Bloodletter.
With his arrival, a last burst of courage swept through Auryn. She screamed, raising her hands and aiming her flames at the Gliders. They cursed, lifting their arms to defend—
But Zarrek was already there, moving faster than her eyes could follow. The first Glider turned just in time to lose her wing. With one mighty swing, Zarrek’s battleaxetorethrough feather, flesh, and bone. The appendage hit the ground with a wet thump, twitching like a beheaded serpent. The Glider shrieked, collapsing, clutching at the bleeding stump as dark grey blood spewed from her severed limb.
Zarrek didn’t stop. He roared andslammedinto the second warrior, dropping his shoulder into her chest andkickingher knee sideways. The crack of bone echoed down the corridor as she crumpled, her scream ragged and broken.
Auryn gasped, blinking up at him.
“Catch.”
A silver dagger spun through the air. She caught it clumsily. Hands shaking, she twisted onto her side and cut through the rope at her ankles. Iron wouldn’t have touched it, but this blade was runed. It burned in response to her mana, slicing through the ropes in a flash.
