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The claws found purchase, sinking into the material with remarkable ease.
I lifted one hand then another, pulling my body upwards, then kicking the grips on the toes of my boots against the wall to leverage my lower body as I ascended.
My progress was slow but steady. With each extension of my claws and each well-placed kick and grip of my boots, I advanced.
Above me, Lyrastra and Avriel had disappeared from view.
I distributed my weight as strategically as I could, balancing my body as I ascended. Still, every inch gained was slow and painstaking. My muscles screamed as I edged my way higher, readjusting my weight and repositioning my limbs.
My claws were like anchors, puncturing the wall and holding me in place. But the strain on my muscles grew more intense with each moment. The exertion required to maintain my grip, solely relying on the claws and grips on my boots, sent waves of burning sensation coursing through my arms, shoulders and back. Every sinew and fiber strained under the weight of holding up my body, urging me to give in to the discomfort.
But step by step, clawhold by clawhold, I fought back the pain and fatigue.
Sweat trickled down my face, stinging my eyes. I drew on my reserves, gritting my teeth and pushing past the throbbing ache and burning strain.
The pain became a constant but familiar companion. I stole brief glances at my hands, seeing the delicate skin healing over, the blisters drying up, as over and over my claws extended and dug in, extended and dug in.
Finally, I reached the ledge at the top.
With trembling limbs, I hauled myself up and over, the strain in my muscles forgotten as exhilaration washed over me.
My chest rose and fell in labored breaths.
Gradually, I took in what was before me.
A makeshift stable with three stalls stood in front of me. The first two spots stood empty.
Unbelievably, in the third stall stood Nightclaw, his yellow eyes gleaming as he watched me clamber awkwardly to my feet.
Just outside the stall lay his saddle.
And beyond the makeshift stable... A distant island in the center of a vast field. A pillar rose out of the island, tall and narrow. There was something resting atop the pillar that I couldn’t pick out.
The field around the island gleamed like a mosaic of glimmering glass cobblestones.
Across this strange terrain, Lyrastra galloped on a nimble black mount covered with snake-like scales. I had never seen any creature move so fast.
Behind her, Avriel seemed to have just entered the field. He rode a massive wolf-like beast covered in thick white fur that shimmered as if it had been touched by the breath of winter itself. As the creature sped over the gleaming cobblestones, I caught a glimpse of ice-like claws and frosty footprints left on the ground beneath.
I raced towards the saddle and yanked open Nightclaw's stall. With trembling hands, I strapped the saddle onto his back, ducking beneath his massive chest to fasten the buckles, then mounted quickly and fumbled for the reins.
We set off swiftly across the peculiar field. My eyes were fixed on the figures in front of us.
Lyrastra was gradually losing her lead. Avriel and his white wolf were closing in on her.
At this rate, she would still make it to the center of the field before them.
I looked beyond to what awaited us. A network of rope bridges extended towards a small central island where a solitary pillar rose upwards. Atop the pillar, a golden object gleamed.
It didn't take much to imagine what it could be.
A crown. The crown of the Siabra empire.
Only one of us could claim the object. What would happen to the other two if they survived but failed to grasp the crown?
But then, I didn't have to worry about that because I was already dead last.
It didn't matter that I had managed to fight my way out of a cage of brambles or claw my way up a perilous wall.
