Page 159

Story: The WitchSlayer

Her legs were trembling, her stomach ached. She knew she wouldn’t be able to walk on her own anymore since she had used the last of her strength to come here.

Terrified, she tried to dig her nails into it. She didn’t know how to take this kind of magic away consciously.

“The ward in place is powerful, Amalia,” her father said while creeping forward slowly. “I can help you lower it, repeat these words.”

Amalia nodded, waiting for him to tell her what to do with tears dripping heavily down her cheeks.

“Ra. Cu. Til. Flou. Sei.”

With a shaky voice, she repeated them with him while her hands remained against the barrier keeping them apart. From where her hands were placed, she watched holes in the ward forming. They spread away to create openings.

When it was gone, she fell forward and crawled to him.

He did the same.

He opened his arms to hug her, but the shackles between his hands wouldn’t allow him to. Reaching out, she grabbed the centre of those chains in hopes that what she had done to Strolguil’s face would happen again.

Fortunately, the links melted away, and she collapsed weakly into his arms.

“Please.” She couldn’t do this on her own anymore.

“I will help you leave this place,” he answered, pulling her in tighter before he worked to get them both standing.

Then he removed his white, dirt-stained tunic and put it over her to cover her body. She’d forgotten she’d been running through the small castle naked.

She hadn’t cared when all she wanted was to escape.

He put her arm around his neck while he snaked his own around her waist to keep her up and held her wrist to keep her arm over his shoulders.

Amalia held her wound with her free hand, trying to stop the bleeding as best as she could. She felt tired as he carefully walked her down the stairs.

“What happened?”

Shaking her head, she knew she couldn’t answer. She didn’t have enough energy left in her to speak and move at the same time. Instead, she hissed between each painful footfall.

They almost made it to the bottom. They were just walking next the lowest window to look down the hallway when the wall to the main room crumbled.

The Dragon had been thrown through it, causing part of the mansion castle to collapse on top of him.

“We cannot go that way,” he told her.

It would put them in the direct path of the two people she was desperate to flee. There was too much chaos, and they would likely be swept up in it. But Amalia wouldn’t put it past either of them to try and use her as leverage against the other.

Her eyes looked to the corner of her lids, and she saw his head moving around to find another way out.

“We will have to go through the window.” The idea of crashing through glass wasn’t comforting. Still, she nodded. “I will try to protect you.”

He picked her up by squishing her flush against his chest and then he threw them against it. The glass shattered, the window tall and fragile.

She felt the heave of her body as they fell and the sudden nauseous pit in her stomach, like it was flipping.

They hit the ground with a disturbing thud, but her father kept his promise and protected her from the worst of the small fall. He took the impact on his back with her above him while cupping her head, so she didn’t hit it.

He even shielded her eyes from the fractures of glass.

With her arm over his shoulder once more, he tried to get them to go at a fast and steady pace through the tall, itchy grass that surrounded the mansion, but she couldn’t keep up. He often had to lift her forward.

I ache.

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