Page 102 of Forging Darkness

I’m free of my bindings. Small puddles of molten metal are sprinkled around me. Did I somehow melt my manacles?

I’m not sure how I did it, and only have a vague recollection of when, but I’m not going to take my liberated state for granted.

Right now I have two objectives. End Legion. Free myself.

Whipping an arm out, I latch onto one of Legion’s booted feet and yank hard enough to send him crashing. If I were armed with any sort of sharp weapon, I could have ended him then and there, but I have nothing.

With a grunt, I launch myself off the back of the platform and sprint for the nearest body. Between the Forsaken Steel took out in his bull form and the Fallen who were defeated in the tournament, there are several to choose from.

The nearest is a Fallen. There’s a broken double-sided axe lying on the ground beside him. The axe head is easily three feet from blade to blade. Not a weapon I would usually be able to wield, but I don’t hesitate to snatch it, swinging at a Forsaken that jumps at me from the left.

The axe’s sharp edge sinks into the Forsaken’s skull, and the creature keels over without uttering a sound.

Shoot. Now I have to find another weapon.

A Forsaken lies facedown ten feet away, and I make a run for it. It’s one of the oddly armored ones. Thankfully it still clutches a spear in its hand.

Perfect.

I’m not sure if it’s a male or female because the head is missing and the body is covered in armor, but even in death this Forsaken doesn’t want to relinquish its weapon. I give the shaft another yank and it finally comes free.

Standing, I face the next Forsaken closing in on me. There are twelve in total, including the ones trying to creep up on me from behind. A quick glance at the coliseum stands shows hundreds of enemies that would happily join them.

I can’t fight them all alone. I have to figure something out.

Another flash of heat burns through my veins, and I gasp at the intensity but refuse to drop to the ground or release the spear. I grit my teeth and hold my ground.

The Forsaken stop advancing, leaving me in the center of a twenty-foot ring.

Are they waiting for me to attack?

I’m about to do just that when two of them step to the side and Legion, wearing Steel’s body, stomps forward. He rolls his shoulders and flexes his fingers, probably getting used to his new shell. He looks to his right and left, taking note of the Forsaken on either side of him.

“This height will take some getting used to,” he rumbles.

Steel’s Forsaken form is changed enough that I can tell myself it’s not him anymore, but that voice . . . it sounds just like my Steel. A clawed hand latches onto my heart and squeezes.

I lift the spear higher, directing it at Legion’s head, telling myself to push through the pain. It’s what Steel would want, after all.

Legion lasers his attention on me. Steel’s once striking teal eyes are now pools of hatred ringed by bloodshot veins. He crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head, assessing me.

“What do you hope to accomplish by this show of rebellion? You’re surrounded. There’s nowhere to run. No hope of escape.”

My eyes narrow. The tip of the spear I’m holding starts to shake from my fatigued arms failing to keep it steady. It would be easier to be swinging and plunging it into Forsaken skulls than holding it still in the air.

“There’s always hope.”

Legion just defeated several of the fiercest Fallen and is also wearing Steel’s face. He’s strong and powerful. If I’m going to beat him, I can’t go at him head-on.

Spinning, I strike out at the enemies creeping up behind me. I catch the Forsaken by surprise, felling one with the blunt end of the spear and impaling the other in the shoulder. The one on the sharp end of my weapon falls and I use the momentum to catapult over his head.

Not bothering to pull the spear free, I sprint for the nearest exit in my periphery. The gates are still open, and I’d rather take my chance in one of the dark tunnels than against a stadium full of enemies.

I’m tackled from the side and go down hard, absorbing the full weight of whatever nailed me. There’s a grinding pop and a shooting pain. I’m half convinced I’ve dislocated my shoulder, but I don’t have time to baby myself.

Flipping over, I try to squirm out from under the weight bearing down on me, but am sucker punched in the jaw before I can break free.

Through a hazy gaze, Steel’s distorted face grins down at me.

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