Page 3 of Fractured Fates

Something isn’t right.

I halt, peering through the darkness, my heart hammering.

This doesn’tfeelright either.

I turn back to my bike.

The front door flings open and a man crashes out.

No, not a man, a giant. He fills the doorway, his body wrapped in a black cloak, the hood pulled up so his face lies in shadow.

Why hadn’t I sensed him sooner?

Immediately, the aurora of his magic fills the air around him, shimmering in a way I’ve only ever seen once before. Like a litany of stars soaring around his body.

Something tugs deep in the center of my gut, raw and powerful. So strong, I gasp. It pulls me his way, and my gaze is forced up to meet his. Dark, like the night. For a moment, we simply stare at each other and if I didn’t know better, I’d fool myself into thinking the man looks as shocked as I do.

But then the expression of bewilderment flickers away. Gone in an instant.

The hook in my belly strains stronger, and before I can react, he lifts his gloved hand and shoots a bolt of magic my way.

It’s bright violet, streaking through the space between us like a burning comet. The effect is almost beautiful.

I’m too disorientated to react, and the magic hits me on the shoulder, sending me flying backwards as pain spirals through my body. I scream as I land on the hard earth of the clearing with a thud.

For one second I lie still, too stunned to move.

This is familiar. All too familiar. Like I’ve seen it before.

I shake that thought away, lift my fingers and send a magic bolt colliding his way.

It’s not as pretty as his. Messy, chaotic, but effective nonetheless.

He ducks, the magic hitting the porch above the doorway and cracking the beam. Splinters fall down onto his head. With his arm outstretched, he strides towards me, and I scramble up onto my feet, sending two more bolts his way. They zoom like colorful fireworks through the night, but he twists and turns, avoiding them both.

“Hand yourself in!” he calls to me, his voice deep and gruff, filling the clearing like a thunderclap. “Make this easy on yourself.”

I don’t respond. I’m too busy struggling with whatever this damn magic is that’s hooked inside my belly and is dragging me his way.

When I don’t answer, he huffs in annoyance and sends a stream of magic towards me, so fast and nimble I have no time to dodge it. One smacks my left hip, burning my skin. I bite down hard on my lip as I tumble a second time to the ground.

This time I don’t pause; despite the pain, I roll away, shooting some of my own magic towards his feet before I jump back up onto mine. He leaps into the air, avoiding my assault and sprints towards me.

“Give yourself in!” he shouts, as another bolt hits my shoulder and my spine. The pain makes my eyes swim with water, and my stomach bubble with nausea, but I grit my teeth, turn and run.

The air smells of burned flesh and singed fabric. I try not to think about the new wounds I’ve added to my collection.

It’s nothing I haven’t handled before – my skin a criss cross of scars, each a testament to another time I escaped.

I run as hard as I can. Despite the pain in my body, despite my empty stomach, despite the overwhelming exhaustion. The man is bigger than me, his stride longer. But I’m light and agile. I’m sure I can outrun him. I hear two more magical bolts scream over my head, his heavy boots thundering on the ground, gaining on me and gaining on me until his ragged breath is loud like a siren in my ears. Even the thud of his heart seems loud, beating furiously in time with my own.

Shit! He’s going to catch me.

I throw a torrent of magic over my shoulder and he curses, his boots pausing for just a second before they start up again.

He retaliates with magic that spins above me, clever, intricate, weaving nets into the air. I scream as I swerve, avoiding one, two, three, but the fourth connecting with my back with such violent force, I slam forward. I stumble to the ground, the breath gone from my lungs, and when I roll over this time, he’s towering above me.

I can see his face now, his eyes dark like the cloak he wears, long jet hair falling around his shoulders, his heavy brow drawn low, his square jaw locked with tension.