Page 89 of Blackheart

Maybe I was losing it, but I didn’t care.

Hitting the outskirts of the city, I chased after the winged beast as if by wild instinct.

The bladebreather passed over the smooth stretch of land at the top of the hill, just ahead of a heavy woodline. There were scattered livestock throughout the plains and a few small buildings. Most of the field was rock and dirt, with scattered patches of tall grass.

Where the hell was the rider going? The opportunity to see more bladebreathers or even potentially get close to one was irresistible. I’d been drawn to paintings and stories of them since I was a child.

This was my opportunity for a future, maybe even my destiny.

I sprinted across the flat terrain.The burning in my chest had long gone, leaving only euphoria as the distant ocean bore witness to me blazing down the wide dirt road.

I pushed harder, running into the woods.

The beast glided over the trees, increasingly difficult to follow through the dense foliage. My steps faltered as I struggled to keep up, desperately searching for the trail or the sound of a beating wing.

“Wait!” I called out, voice hoarse, legs pushing as hard as they could.

Every so often, I passed others along the trail who gave judgmental scowls and mocking stares, but it didn’t matter if they thought I was mad. I was far beyond shame.

The green canopy became so thick it blocked my view of the sky entirely, making it impossible to tell which path to take. My desire to press on was hindered, but I fought the part of me that was so ready to give up. The muscles in my legs burned, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the sting I would feel of another disappointment.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Faster?—

A person dropped through the trees, boots landing on the ground a few feet ahead. I gasped, trying to stop before I trampled them.

“Mother of Moons!” I yelled, tripping and smacking my palms into the ground, poison involuntarily spraying from them and into the dirt.

Steps approached, but nausea overcame me before I could look up. My hands pressed into the blood and poison-soaked ground as I spewed the contents of my stomach.

My eyes clenched shut—jaw locking tight.

I was soangry. So tired of being a Blackheart. My eyes stung with grief as pain flared in my chest.

So tired of beingme.

“God fucking dammit! I hate this shit,” I seethed, trying to gather myself.

“Oh!” a cheerful voice chimed.

I glanced up. The blonde woman stood there, observing me curiously.

“Oh?” I repeated.

She was tall, wearing a practical, ankle-length red dress that fit her large and curvy figure, complemented by a bold rubynecklace. She reached inside the brown bag hanging from her shoulder and pulled out a cloth.

“Here, for your spill.” She held it towards me, green eyes bright.

I cautiously took it and glanced around. No sign of the bladebreather, to my utter dismay, though she was definitely the rider.

I cleaned my hands, noting the wipe worked impressively well on my Nature.

“I know you,” I said. “You’re the woman who escorted our ship from Drakington.”

“Yep.” The woman brought two fingers to her mouth, letting out a loud whistle.

Descending through the trees, the bladebreather landed with a ground-shaking thud before stretching his neck. He inspected me with huge amber eyes, while his feathered tail whipped back and forth in a feline motion.

Others walking the trail scurried off.