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Heading straight for us.
“She’s flooding the city,” I whisper. “Now the Sunborne are gone, she has no reason not to.”
“What’s happening?” one of the children cries.
“Run!” I scream at the top of my voice. “Everyone run! Now!”
There is trembling moment of hesitation, and then they do as I say. They run as fast as their small legs can carry them, but it’s not fast enough. I spin around to see buildings, and trees, and life being swallowed by the tsunami of liquid hate that is coming for us.
It’s going to take us.
It’s going to eat us alive.
My wings flutter. But they are not strong enough to fly, and certainly not quick enough to carry twenty children to safety.
Is the bridge strong enough to withstand Alana’s flood? I have no idea, but it is our only option.
“Everyone stop! Climb!” I grab the blue-eyed girl and haul her up onto the support beam that rises up and turns into the bridge’s large timbre arc. “Climb as high as you can and hang on. Don’t let go. Help your friends!”
I run along the bridge, helping each child up so they can grip on and start to climb.
The roar of the flood fills my ears. Cracking, creaking, breaking, the city bends to its will. Surely, the bridge will not survive.
“Hang on! Whatever happens, hang on!” I call, grabbing onto a pillar as the water hits.
It is so loud and so strong that it takes my breath away. The force, the power. I can’t breathe. It batters my legs, my stomach, my arms. But it does not reach the children. Not yet.
My hands are growing slick, losing their grip.
“Briony! Climb up! I’ll pull you up!” the blue-eyed girl calls, reaching for me.
I can’t let go. If I do, that will be it.
“You just hold on!” The water is rising higher. It is so cold. I can’t feel my legs or my feet. My hair is plastered against my face. My hand slips. Only one hand remains. I try to dig in my nails, but my fingers are too slick, too weak.
I try.
I try.
And then I fail.
I’m underwater, tumbling in the flood’s grip.
My vision starts to darken at the edges.
My last thought before the darkness takes me is a prayer – not for myself, but for Alana. I pray that someday, somehow, she’ll find her way back to the light. That she’ll remember the person she used to be.
Then the water fills my lungs, and everything fades away.
THIRTY
Finn
We are almost at the castle. Energy and power swells behind me. The Shadowkind and, behind them, the Gloomweavers, who of course joined us without a second thought.
The chance to fight back against Eldrion and allow their most base and disgusting desires to surge to the surface?
They were practically salivating when I offered it to them.
