Chapter 45: Seeing the Light (1)
Elliot’s POV
“Only in death I shall rest, be it soon, be it late. But I will use what remains, so it shall not be in vain.”
–– Elliot Starfall
I run. My breath is steady. The sword in my grip is thin—too light to feel real. My arms are moving, but my legs feel like iron, like they’re rooted to the earth. They tremble under me, but I keep moving, keep pushing forward through a pressure that presses down from above like a nightmare that won’t break.
I’m not running toward anything. I’m running from something. I don’t know what. My shoulders burn. The sword scrapes against the ground behind me, dragging in the dirt, ringing in the fog. Every scratch gives away my position, but I can’t stop. I can’t think.
My heart hammers in my chest. My eyes dart through the fog, searching—but there’s no one. I am alone. Only me, and the tight coil of something unknown, something foreign—but not entirely. It’s like a limb I forgot I had. Like memory trying to return through muscle.
My sprint fades into a walk. My feet hit heavier now, as if the entire world leans down on my back. As if my world has climbed on and refuses to come off. My knee gives out. I stumble forward, catching myself on my hands.
The ground is warm. Slippery.
My fingers sink.