Page 109 of A Kingdom so Crimson

"Run! Eliah, RUN."

The voice came a second before a dark figure emerged around the paths bend. It stood several feet taller, it's arms looked too long, too peculiar, to be human with something glinting in the moonlight at its side. An aura of spoiled acid radiated from it, and wisps of black smoke pulsated around its being. I shivered at the icy feeling that stabbed straight into my heart as a deadly, contorted smile formed on the figure's mouth.

Astor swore, and I swiftly grabbed his arm, pushing him forward into the black, narrow crack of the mountain without a second thought. The figure lunged toward us, compelling us to run as fast as we could in the darkness. We sprinted in silence, our panting and pounding boots hitting the rocky floor echoing in the confined space.

"Faster!" I hissed to Astor, my voice echoing as I pushed him forward. Behind us, rocks shifted, and the figure's feetthundered toward us, slamming into the canyon's opening with a shrilling crash. Its tall, lanky body seemed cumbersome, but its long legs kept pace, closing the gap with each step.

A deep, sickening laugh echoed through the dark canyon, paralyzing me to my core. Dried roots and branches jutted out from the narrow canyon walls, slicing into our cheeks, arms, and shoulders as we collided with them, along with freshly spun webs that caught in our throats. My legs screamed from the exertion as fear threatened to paralyze me. I grunted as the canyon seemed to stretch endlessly and offer no escape as we practically tumbled over each other.

The canyon narrowed further, forcing us to run single file, my feet barely avoiding Astor's heels in front of me. Our panting breaths echoed loudly against the moist walls, drawing a chorus of howls and yelps from a ledge above and behind us.

What do we do?! What do we do?!

I kept running, my throat raw and bleeding from the icy air. Glancing back, I saw the tall figure still pursuing us, now wielding a long black blade at its side.

What do we do?!

Up ahead, a gray, eerie light barely illuminated the dark path.

"Go, go, go!" Astor yelled, propelling himself faster.

A wet snarl echoed from a ledge above us, joined by two more as a dried root slashed deep into my jaw, tearing a screech from my lips along with warm blood.

Oh, Tryan. Help us!

I crashed into Astor, who broke my fall as the canyon abruptly gave way to a vast, bowl-like arena resembling a massive theater. A labyrinth of pathways spiraled down into its center, converging at a small black hole. Four large, loosely packed rocky slopes marked each entrance, ending in a perilous drop. Surrounding the rocky landslides were descending switchbacks that snaked their way down the steep slope of the bowl.

A shrill, oily scream cracked behind us, sending a jolt of terror through my body. We jumped without hesitation and tumbled into the sharp rocky slope that cut into our skin as we began sliding uncontrollably down to the lethal cliff at its end, pulling us down like quicksand.

Astor cried out as he collided with a large rock that held firm in the landslide and broke his fall with a painful thud. I managed to catch hold of a dead branch a few feet above him, gasping for air.

I whipped my head back, bracing for the figure to lunge out of the canyon, hearing its oily screech echoing perilously close. Just then, a glimmer of light caught my eye to the left of me. I looked over to see a pile of weapons clustered together at the start of each of the switchbacks, having a dreading feeling that this was the start of the finale.

My eyes locked onto the shaft of a bow and arrows amidst the pile, and with a surge of adrenaline, I swung myself over to the switchback landing, pain shooting through my knee as the jagged rocks tore into my flesh. The oily figure leaped onto the bone-crunching rocks. Its ebony skeletal form was draped in tattered black robes that billowed like wraiths against its frail, patchwork body of rotting flesh. All the air left my lungs as my mind raced back to that book of monsters in Levon's library. Believing them nothing more than fables. I watched as the bony black figure scrambled for purchase, and my heart sank.

Dark Magics known asSkinners.

No—it can't be.

Astor's scream echoed through the canyon as he jumped away from the figure onto the adjacent switchback path.

I scrambled towards the weapons, desperation lending speed to my movements as I swallowed my fear. Astor screamed again, forcing me to run harder. I heard a brawl of movement close behind me as I reached the bow with a skid, scraping open my suit and feeling a painful warmth trickle down my knees.

With trembling hands, I seized the bow, feeling its weight as I swiftly nocked an arrow into place and whirled back toward Astor. Before I could react, the monster slammed into me with bone-jarring force, sending us both crashing to the ground in a violent tangle of limbs. I cried out as the bow and arrows slipped from my grasp, the rough terrain digging into my skin while the bony figure pinned me to the ground.

The foul stench of decay enveloped me, making me gag as I struggled to breathe. With desperation clawing at me, I reached for the sword lying just inches away, my fingers barely brushing its hilt as I kicked and punched frantically, trying to fend off the relentless shadow. Its eyes were as black as the night, only visible by the mere gloss they reflected from the waking sky with a rotting patchwork of flesh overlapping its black frame, confirming my dread. Its spidery fingers cracked and popped, tightening around my throat.

I shifted my body, trying to throw the putrid figure off. A Skinner.

"Xaldruk will love the feel of you,"it hissed out. The snake-like voice sent thousands of shivers down my neck and spine. "Perhaps he'll share your creamy skin."

I grunted, closing my eyes and squirming beneath its crushing hold, pushing with all my might. My fingertips went numb from clawing and stretching for the sword, barely grazing its pommel but unable to grasp it. I cried out as the Skinner's black tongue flicked out like a snake, licking the Breva's blood from my face. Fear and disgust rippled through me as my lungs threatened to collapse under its weight.

"You killed it!" The figure shrieked, its grip tightening like a vise, cutting off my air supply. "YOU KILLED IT!" Its scream reverberated off the rounded mountains, waking everything in its path, unsure what it meant.

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears mingling with the dirt and blood on my face as despair sank deep into my ravaged heart. I abandoned my efforts to reach the sword and clawed at its fingers, gasping for air.

Help!

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