COF 2: The Soul Spells

21 | Escape (I)

Reeca ran along the length of the corridor just as the sun was rising. She tripped on a part of the wall that had caved in and landed with a solid thump on the dusty floor. She cursed as she dusted herself off. What was that about? She limped forward, her leg throbbing without respite since the battle started.

The corridor stretched beyond her, snaking into the right turn. She craned her neck at the ceiling and sighed. She's going in circles. Where in the world were the working soul doors?

Another curse bled out of her lips. Kymalin made sure that no one would be able to follow her by cutting all connections in the soul doors. Reeca shouldn't try her luck in tinkering with a soul door. It could lead to unwanted consequences. She sighed before casting a glance at the stream of light from the rising sun beaming towards the floor. They've been fighting for too long. Hurry. She needed to hurry.

Reeca squared her shoulders, her wings perking against their bandages. Window, it was then.

When Reeca leaned half of her body out the window, she saw the battle raging. Metal clanging, magic sparking, earth shaking. Reeca glanced to her left and noted the enemy spirits beginning to scale the walls in an attempt to get inside the Temple. The serzhakis and the precaris flocked the First of the Upper, tackling the spirits before they could even touch the wall. Unravel the connection between the living and the dead. That's what Reksha Keryth told them to do.

As if Reeca could do that. So, she needed to do the next thing she was good at—combat.

Reeca gritted her teeth as she took a few steps back and leaped out of the window. Before her feet sailed past the ledge, she twisted, grabbing the ledge where the second floor met the third. She hoisted herself to stand up in its narrow width, her foot barely fitting even when it was parallel against the wall.

Below, the enemy spirits crawled on the walls like it's solid ground that didn't go the right direction. A greenish hand closed around Reeca's ankle. Oh, gods. Not now. Her fingers strained against the ledge she hung from as she wagged her leg. She scored a kick on the spirit's forehead and it let go before toppling back down. Its blank stare was sure to haunt Reeca's dreams in the future.

The other spirits howled and lunged for her. She jumped.

Her wings twitched against the bandages, a dozen curses already running on repeat in her head for their ill-timed injury. The third floor sailed past her. She flailed for a handhold but her nails scratched smooth rock. Then, the earth's pull worked on her. The walls blurred past her like a resetting pulley as she fell. Her hand shot forward and snagged on a window edge. Her body slammed against the hard wall, sending bruising pain through her stomach. She gritted her teeth.

Thank the gods these windows didn't have panes.

Reeca pulled herself up, her muscles burning, until her foot could replace her hands on the window. This routine continued until she reached the last of the lower floors. Relief flopped into her gut as she grasped the balustrade of the wide courtyard of the First of the Upper. She collapsed into the courtyard's cold, stone floor, the blue and black statues of creepy banshees towered above her.