[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
He had hunted me, captured me, and locked me in a tower.
Season 3 'Of Crows and Thorns'
***
While in RISING, Tabitha discovers something peculiar that may assist Nelle in her plan to escape the...
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"Gray?!" I heard Mela shriek.
I groaned, dizziness murking my mind. I shook my head, scattering dust and small shards of stone free from my hair. I lifted my gaze. Mela stood in front of me. The vibrating ground shook her grimy figure, mine too. Terror shone bright in her dark eyes "Gray?"
She wasn't looking at me, she was staring behind me. Her eyes were so round the whites almost seemed to devour her irises. "Holy hells," she choked out, her body swaying and jittering with the trembling approach of the Stone Eater. Her gaze slashed to mine and she lurched forward, leaning down, reaching for me. "Get up. Get up, Gray!"
"Go!" I yelled, shoving at the chunks of shifting, jostling rock I was buried in. "Get to the junction fast!"
Her mouth quivered in her hesitation to leave me behind. She began to part her lips as if to say no, but I cut her off, bellowing, "Now!"
Her soft nostrils flared with frustration. "Use that godsdamned Crowther speed of yours!" she urged, before spinning around and surging forward.
The buzzing, sawing sound of grinding stone grew close.
Too close.
The fucking thing was almost on top of me.
I shoved off the rockfall and staggered to my shuddering feet, just as an unearthly roar reverberated over me, triumphant and ear-piercing.
Ahead of me, Mela careened around the corner of the junction.
I pushed forward, my mother's unnatural healing coursing through my body and dulling the ache and sting of grazed skin. I threw myself faster, faster, faster, down the long stretch of a straight tunnel.
I stole a harried glance over my shoulder and saw there was nothing but wildness in the serpent's thinned eyes. Inhuman. Without mercy. It yawned its mouth wide and I was staring into the deadly innards of a woodchipper, with rows of teeth rotating swiftly.
A fat, long tongue snapped out and I just managed to evade the wet organ that speared overhead, the movement scattering my sweat-damp hair like a gust of wind.
But I was gone, dashing forward, racing for the crossing of tunnels.
A violent storm of footfall.
A blazing tempest of speed.
I leaped, hitting the rough edge of the junction wall with a foot—
Used it as a springboard to twist around mid-air—
My wyrmblade sang a deadly note through the cold, dark air as I drew it free. I landed with a jarring jolt on the uneven stone floor and skidded. I braced my back foot against the slide, leaning forward to stop the backward momentum.
I arced my cursed sword low at my hip. Both of my hands gripped the knotted hilt tight. My taut muscles were bunched and ready to spring forward.
Mela mirrored me across the junction passage. Grim determination was carved into her features. A flash of a feral grin in the gloom.
