The Mirrorwyrm’s furious shrieks and the hounds’ snarling roars crash together behind me in a cacophony of glass and metal. I seize the moment of reprieve, sprinting deeper into the labyrinth of warped spires.

  Each footstep sends jolts of pain through my wounded side, but I force my legs to keep moving. The air is razor-thin in my lungs, heavy with ash and shimmering flakes of glass that catch the toxic daylight.

  Despite the Mirrorwyrm’s attempts to hold them back, I can still hear the lupine monstrosities tearing free of the fray. Their growls echo across the columns of crystal, amplified by the jagged walls until it sounds like a legion at my heels. My heart drums in a frantic staccato, and I grit my teeth, pushing through the haze of fatigue and stinging agony.

  I glance down at my side and see the faint gleam of blood soaked into my torn robes. The wound throbs, a steady pulse that radiates an icy burn. Glass is poisoned, I recall. My body fights back, but it’s costing me precious energy. Already, my breath comes in ragged bursts, and each step feels heavier than the last.

  I veer around a shard-studded pillar, nearly losing my footing on a patch of glittering debris. In the distance, I sense the hounds breaking away from the Mirrorwyrm, their shrill howls resonating with hungry triumph. A violent jolt of fear courses through me—they’re gaining, and I’m slowing.

  I skid to a stop at a narrow bend where two spires lean in close, forming a jagged corridor barely wide enough for me to pass. My chest heaves, and my vision blurs as the poison pricks at my nerves. I have no choice.

  Clutching my staff, I focus on the shimmering orb at its tip. The staff’s thorny ridges bite into my palm, a stark warning of the price to come. But I have no time to hesitate. Closing my eyes, I summon what remains of my magic, threading it through the staff and into my own body.

  A surge of brilliant light flares from the staff’s crystal, ripping through the bleak greenish haze. Warmth floods my veins, momentarily overpowering the poisonous chill. I bite back a cry as the energy punches through my injury, drawing out the toxic residue that clings to my flesh. It’s like tearing out a barbed hook—pain spikes through me, bright enough to blacken the edges of my vision.

  The spell works—dark droplets of venom splatter onto the glass beneath my feet, evaporating into a foul-smelling mist. Relief bathes my wound in cool numbness, though the staff exacts its toll immediately. The thorns embedded along its shaft slice deeper into my skin, siphoning off my life force in return for the healing. I gasp, feeling fresh blood trickle between my fingers.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  For a heartbeat, I waver on my feet. The corruption under my ward surges against its restraints, spurred on by my sudden weakness. I clamp my jaw shut, forcing it back. The staff’s light dims to a faint glow, and I choke down the urge to collapse on the spot.

  A grating bark snaps my attention to the rear. I can hear the rapid thud of pawsteps closing in—the hounds have nearly broken free of the Mirrorwyrm’s fury, or at least enough of them have. Sparks fly in the distance as glass meets molten metal, but I know that scuffle won’t hold them for long. The beasts are tireless, single-minded in their pursuit.

  I grit my teeth, ignoring the shaking in my limbs. Keep moving. The standoff with the Mirrorwyrm bought me moments, not minutes. My staff is heavier in my hands now, draining a portion of my strength with each labored breath. Still, my mind feels sharper without the poison clinging to my veins, and the pain in my side subsides to a dull throb.

  With a ragged inhale, I force my legs into motion once again, bolting down the corridor and ducking beneath a low-hanging shard that threatens to slice open my scalp. The jagged spires bend overhead like the ribs of some colossal beast, refracting distorted reflections that shimmer across my peripheral vision. Each reflection flashes a glimpse of my own terrified face, reminding me just how precarious my situation is.

  A keening howl echoes behind me, chased by the squeal of glass scraping metal. My muscles protest with every stride, but I push harder, refusing to let my fear swallow me whole. If I can just keep ahead a little longer—reach the next rise or pass—maybe I’ll find some advantage against these hunters.

  In a split second of weakness, I glance over my shoulder. Through the swirling ash, I glimpse one of the hounds charging in a half-bound, half-sprint, its blazing eyes locked on me. Drool that glistens like molten steel drips from its maw. My heart jumps to my throat, and I face forward again, summoning every last spark of endurance.

  The Glass Wastes stretch ahead, cruel and endless. My staff pulses like a second heartbeat in my hand. A fresh lance of pain shoots through my wounded palm, but at least the poison no longer courses through my veins. Kael’s minions are behind me, their snarls and howls a promise of violence—and beyond them lurks Kael himself, the Citadel, and answers I can’t afford to let him seize first.

  I steady my breathing, focusing on the battered path ahead. Just a little farther.

  Somewhere beyond this shifting maze of spires, the final confrontation looms—my fate closing in like a tightening snare. The best I can do now is run, and hope that when the time comes to stand and fight, I’ll have enough left in me to make it count.