The Frozen Moon - By J.D. Swinn Page 0,47
altogether. There were roughly thirty or forty still about them, but hope was sparking within her chest that she could not deny. With a second wind and new found energy, she flung a disc from the pouch at her waist and it gracefully slid through the neck of one nearby.
“That’s why I told you not to touch those.” Her voice held a lightness that she had not felt since the beginning of the battle. She spoke for the first time since it had begun; she needed to hear the sound of her friend’s voice beside her.
“Thanks for the warning.” She could hear the smile in Mira’s voice. Wyd stood in the center of the circle, protected by those battling, spinning defense spells and god only knew what else. Through his work, she imagined, the group felt something cool slide across their skin, like water hardening into ice around them. Nameh looked down to see that a thin armor now covered her body, where torn and stained leather had been failing. He was probably absorbing magic from those fallen around them, because now she could even sense a thin shield around the entire group, a difficult task. Cutting through her moment of reprieve was a piercing shriek that could not be mistaken. It sent chills down her spine and shivers down the nape of her neck at the realization of what was coming. Before she could find words of warning, Cal’s voice cut through the air with a ferocity and fear.
“Harpies!” was the single word he uttered, and all that needed to be said. They were upon the cluster as the word had scarcely been comprehended, their dark bodies melding with the falling night. Her body reacted before her mind did, lashing out at the creature headed directly for her. The familiar black blood oozed from its stomach where she had wounded it, pouring onto her face and body as the monster withered to the ground. She wiped it from her eyes barely in time to see the next Harpy crashing into her, claws extended. They ripped through her stomach and shoulder, piercing skin even through the metal plating, drawing blood and knocking her body to the ground. Her breath was stolen by the impact with the cold and hard ground as the claws sank even deeper into her flesh. She gasped for air and tried to roll the creature off with no success. Its blank eyes contained only rage as they stared down at her helpless figure. She turned her head to the side to see that at least a dozen Harpies had her friends in similar situations, save Talar who was ripping through one that could not pin him down. For a moment her mind went blank with pain, she had no thoughts, no connection to the razor claws that were sinking into her body, and no knowledge of her consciousness slipping away. It was at that moment that she was able to give up, give in, and end it all.
She had been right, she laughed in her mind at a last thought. Death was easy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: DARK MAGIC
The kind of softness that came from giving up was difficult to shake, or rather, difficult to find the will to shake. The relenting was not entirely of her decision; her body was scarcely responding to her directions as it was. But as difficult as this sometimes is, there is often a specific trigger, one thing that can push one over the edge back into the land of the living.
Daniel had reappeared. He wielded the same sword she had always known him to, strapped to his back. But much worse, he wore the same smug grin she had always known him to. Only now it was directed at her. He saw her pinned down beneath the monster’s grasp and delighted in it. His condescending glance was all she needed to carry her back to the battlefield where she had left her broken body. Her blurry vision focused, her senses sharpened, and the adrenaline pulsed through her veins. She used her free arm to slash at the creature perched on her stomach. It fell, broken, to the side from the force of her blow, which surprised even her as she dragged herself to her feet. Her mark burned with a sense of renewal, it had not given up either. Her healing spell was still working, but it was no comparison to what Cal could do. Six Harpies lay in crumpled heaps about