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I opened my mouth to answer, but no words came out. I didn'tknowif it was a Spellcaster, but it had to be that monster written in that book.

I sucked in a coppery breath, glancing out to see the two other contestants running down the switchbacks into the exit at its center, long blades and daggers in their hands.

"We're almost there," I rasped, my throat dry and scratchy. "We need to keep moving," I urged, looking back up to the dark slit of the canyon we had entered through, praying no more skeletons or wolves would appear, especially with the scent of blood in the air.

"I don't know if I can—"

"You must, Astor!"

I tried to lift him, but he grunted in pain as more blood spilled from his open wounds. Our breaths came out hot against the cold morning air as my mind raced through every possibility.

Leaving him would make him an easy target for predators and death itself. Taking him would slow us down and put us both at greater risk. Finding something to help move him would take time we didn't have, and there was no guarantee I'd return to the crater in time.

I glance at my trembling and blood-soaked hands, knowing he had minutes before—

NO!

I tore off more pieces of my suit, fashioning crude bandages to slow the bleeding. From the sight of the spewing blood, I feared the wolf's claws had hit an artery.

"Astor, please," I begged, praying this wasn't real. "We have to move," I pleaded, my voice cracking with fear and exhaustion.

He shook, his breath sputtering.

I stood up, holding Astor under his arm. "This is going to hurt," I warned.

I tugged him upright, causing him to cry out and leave a trail of blood in our wake. My heart sank as I looked down into the crater's center, seeing how far away we still were, but I kept pulling, each step more agonizing than the last. Tears stung my eyes with each pull, sending an exasperated cry from Astor. My arms burned as I pulled harder. We managed to pass two switchbacks when a roar froze us in our tracks; screams followed after.

This was it.

This was the end.

More screams bellowed beyond the crater as a roar stifled the contestant's cry.

I stopped, panting, unable to move forward. Nothing good waited for me at the end, only the wrinkled, old arms of Lord Winslow. The thought of him made me sick, mingling with the coppery smell of Astor's blood and causing me to dry heave. My stomach churned up acid, burning my already raw throat. I slumped down, holding Astor in my arms, completely depleted of energy, thoughts, and hope.

"Go," Astor whispered, his voice hoarse and stale. "Eliah, go." His lips had turned purple, his skin pale and clammy. He was losing too much blood too quickly.

"I can't leave you," I whispered back, tears streaming down my face. The thought of abandoning him was unbearable.

I looked down at Astor's swelling leg, swiftly ripping off more of my suit to wrap around his calf. He made no sound as I pulled it tight. His trembling hand grabbed mine, coated with dirt and grime.

"I'll be okay," he heaved barely above a whisper.

"Astor, you'll die."

"Then win it…for…my family."

Tears welled in my eyes, falling onto his dirty forehead. My heart ached at the sight of his frail, slumped figure. I held tightly to his hand.

"No," I grunted. "No!"

I stood back up, pulling him along, not accepting this fate as rocks tumbled down the rocky slope from the canyon we came out of. Stark blonde hair appeared, tumbling down with a cry.

My heart skipped. "Osric," I whispered.

He fell steeply, the cliff only inches from his feet, before he took hold of one of the path's roots and pulled himself up. I kept pulling Astor's limp body, watching Osric scour the weapons pile, grabbing a hatchet and a long sword, and stowing several things too far to see in his boot. He began running down the switchbacks with a pronounced limp, stopping a few times to grunt in pain before continuing.

"Osric!" I yelled, my voice raw and weak. "Osric!" He looked up at the echo of his name, his eyes meeting mine as I dragged Astor. "Please!"