Legends of Sora (Book 1: Fate & Fortune)

3 - Bolt in Blood

Death comes for us all in the end. Turn and make it tremble to call your name."

–Alistair Degrasse

As Valeo crouched outside the Magistrate's estate, Breeze ran for her life, naked feet slapping the pavement. Half a dozen of those things, a dark and ghastly tide, were heavy on her heels.

The creatures moved like twilight. At a distance they looked almost human, but the similarities ended there. Twisted and vile, they were starved nightmares cornering their dreamer at long last. Some staggered upright. Others loped along on all fours like wild animals. She had no word for them. They would kill her whether she knew their names or not. One mistake, a single wrong turn . . . if they caught up, her dress would provide about as much protection from their gruesome claws as damp tissue paper.

Breeze flew down side alleys, taking streets at random. Several frantic minutes later, she dared glance over her shoulder. The street behind was utterly deserted. She slowed to a stop, skin crawling.

Where did they go?

The only sounds were the flicker of flames or quickly stifled screams. She scurried into the sidelines, flitting from shadow to shadow as only she could. Nerves tight and thrumming, drenched in sweat, Breeze fought against an almost entirely alien sensation . . .

Fear.

Eyes roving from every crevice to corridor, She imagined the nightmares around every turn. For the first time in memory, her fury wasn't winning, didn't beg her to turn and fight. She never wanted to flee so badly.

Seldom do we find our desires.

The sound of moonlight. A glint of warning. Steel fed by flames. Breeze threw herself backward, the Fallen's sword missing her by millimeters. Keeping her momentum, she tucked into a reverse roll and sprang back to her feet. In an instant, five more monsters surged in. Breeze sprinted down the only alley they hadn't blocked, not daring to look back.

A trap.

Whether by smell, sound, or some other sense she didn't dare acknowledge, it seemed she couldn't shake the wretches. The only course was to stay one step ahead—a feat she was hard pressed to keep.

The state of the city as it blurred by was no better than the villa: Windows shattered, hunks of wood littering the stones like dead leaves. Doors lay in mangled heaps and houses that had stood a hundred years were now crumbling husks. She flew past a group of fleeing townsfolk. She hoped they could get away but deep down she knew. They were doomed.

It will slow them down.

She blanched in disgust, but the raw sweat and coils part of the brain, the part caring only for its own survival, embraced the thought. Feet going numb, arms pumping like ship pistons, she said a silent prayer as the townsfolk's screams fed the night.

The anger surged inside her, clawing its way past her terror. With a brick wall of will, she forced it down, feet faltering for half an instant as her body tried to turn and fight. She dug her fingers into her palms, drawing blood, trying to quell the inferno begging to be unleashed.

Not now, please not now!

Fury was simply misery before everything burns down. Her life's little litany.

She couldn't stop. She couldn't win. With each passing stride rage and hopelessness welled in tandem.

She hadn't wanted to leave Valeo, but there had been no choice. The moment Drake fired, the whole foyer had ignited. Luck had never been hers as it was Valeo's. The last of the creatures had spotted her, terrifying silver eyes promising death. Her choice had been flee or be slaughtered where she stood. The last she'd seen of her childhood companion, he was fleeing for his life as surely as she was.