The rough cobblestones beneath my feet became a blur as I ran, fear pumping through my veins with each beat of my heart. The harsh cries of the guards echoed off the wooden walls and stone streets, a chilling symphony to my frantic escape. I could hear their footfalls growing louder, each thud a grim reminder of the danger snapping at my heels. Weaving through the startled crowds, I darted around sharp corners and plunged down shadowy alleys, every muscle in my body straining against the terror that threatened to consume me.
My heart pounded in my chest, a wild drum against the silence of my desperation. Every stride was a gamble as I dodged potholes and splashed through slick mud, the threat of stumbling looming with every step. Fear squeezed the air from my lungs, filling each gasp with the taste of uncertainty and risk. Every corner I turned was a blind leap into the unknown, a potential ambush in the making. But I couldn't afford to run straight for long; it was akin to drawing them a map straight to me. So, I darted in a haphazard labyrinth of my own making, my mind swirling with the terror of my predicament. Then, amidst the relentless cacophony and chaotic dance of shadows, an unexpected figure emerged from the fray.
"Sorceress, over here!" A voice rang out, firm yet with a hint of urgency that underscored the gravity of our situation.
Recognition eluded me as I surveyed the man. His attire was a simple tunic, breeches, and boots, but the wear and tear bespoke countless adventures. Yet, amidst the roughness of his appearance, his eyes glowed peculiarly. While they were, by all accounts, ordinary, an intense determination smoldered within, hinting at a soul seasoned by experiences beyond the commonplace.
"Hey! Sorceress! The king pursues you, but fear not, for I shall aid you. I possess a sanctuary nearby. Come, take this and follow me."
The man thrust a cloak and dagger into my hands. A flicker of suspicion sparked within me—could this be a trap? Yet, in the whirlwind of desperation, trusting someone seemed like my only respite from this relentless chase. I chose him. Amidst the myriad of unknown faces, his held my newfound faith. With the local terrain's secrets under his belt, he might just be my salvation from the king's men.
He navigated the labyrinthine streets with a grace born of familiarity. His gaze, sharp and alert, scanned our surroundings while his feet moved with a purposeful rhythm, making me trust in his expertise. His confident demeanor, his sturdy pace, and the way he seemed to know every cobblestone in these alleys comforted me. He steered me away from the path I had been following. As we delved deeper, the buildings grew more dilapidated, suggesting that our destination was within the city's grimmer, less prosperous quarters.
Guard shouts rebounded off the narrow stone alleyways, creeping nearer with each passing second, embedding a sense of impending doom deep within me. I had to remain on guard, ready to face any threat that lurked around the corner. The slow creaking of a door ahead triggered an instinctive response. My fingers tightened around the dagger's hilt, prepared for a confrontation. Yet instead of a formidable foe, a small child unwittingly stepped into the chaos. My attention was diverted by a flicker of movement in a window to my right. Would I need to use this dagger against an unsuspecting guard? No—a second glance revealed only an elderly woman, absentmindedly enjoying her bread, oblivious to the turmoil beneath her window.
My heart dared to flutter with the faintest hint of relief, a fleeting illusion that danger might have finally lost my trail. But that brief respite shattered as a woman erupted from the labyrinth of alleyways to my left. The grip on my dagger tightened reflexively, my breath hitched, and I braced myself for yet another confrontation.
The woman who barrelled towards me bore none of the uniformity of the city guards. Instead, she was a chiaroscuro of danger swathed in form-fitting leather armor, its shadowy black hues streaked with blood-red accents. A hood hung low, casting a cloak of mystery over her countenance, while a mask guarded her nose and mouth, leaving only her eyes—incisive and frosty—as gateways to her intent.
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Below The Black Sun
FantasyBook 1, Destruction, follows Crystal, a young woman who wakes up with no memory of who she is or how she ended up standing over a group of slaughtered corpses. Fleeing the scene, she is aided by a stranger who seems to know more about her than she d...
