Page 312 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

A guttural cry bursts from my throat, my body thrashing wildly as I struggle to break free from his telekinetic hold. But his grip on me is unyielding, his powers acting like a searing laser that slices through layers of skin and muscle to reach deep into my organs.

Blood gushes up my throat, forcing me to choke and gasp for air. The pain intensifies with each passing second, the hole inmy stomach expanding at an alarming rate under the relentless assault of his energy.

Desperately, I try to use what little control I have left over my own abilities to heal the damage he’s inflicting. Every slight pause in his attacks is met with a burst of healing energy, but it’s only a temporary reprieve. I know that no matter how hard I fight, my death is inevitable.

Still, some stubborn part of me refuses to give up. Through the agonizing pain, I focus on the simple mantra: Bear. Heal. Bear. Heal. Over and over again, I bear the excruciating agony before mustering all my strength to heal myself. Each time, it’s only a small amount, but it’s enough to shield my heart from his destructive onslaught.

More blood comes out of my mouth, and in an act of defiance, I spit it right in his face.

His nostrils flare in disgust and he thrusts me away from him. Despite the pain coursing through my body, I take advantage of the distance to heal my wounds. My energy is rapidly draining, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ve found a weakness in him.

He brings his sleeve to his face to wipe off my blood, repulsed by its touch. He’s so disgusted that he doesn’t even realize when I flash behind him and tackle him to the ground.

Without enough strength to summon my swords, I resort to using my fists. Straddling him on the ground, I rain down punch after punch on his face until my skin is scraped raw and my knuckles are bleeding.

But as my own blood threatens to mingle with his, something flashes in his eyes and he delivers a powerful blow that sends me flying across the field. I dig my feet into the ground, skidding backward until finally coming to a stop. Every breath is ragged and painful, my throat still raw from our earlier encounter.

I see him get to his feet, his expression a mixture of panic and annoyance. He wipes at his face, cleaning himself until there’s no more trace of me left.

It’s odd. Yet that oddity might be my winning ticket. So far, he hasn’t touched me. Every time, he used his telekinesis or his energy blasts to strike me.

Using my nails, I prick my skin at the back of my elbow on each arm, letting a small rivulet of blood flow down my wrist. Once my skin is stained red, I flash myself to his side.

His eyes are on my bloody arms and even bloodier clothes, so much so he doesn’t notice the blast of energy behind him.

It hits him in the back of the head, making him reel. He stumbles forward, and pressing his hand to his nape, he finds it sticky with blood. My brows knit into a frown when I note that the color of his blood is such a dark red, it’s bordering on black.

What…

His expression suddenly changes into cold, murderous intent. If before he’d been mostly amused by little old me trying to fight in the big leagues, now he’s killing me with his gaze alone.

Coldness seeps into my bones as I step back.

He swipes his fingers over his bloody nape and brings them in front of him, staring at that oddly colored liquid with an odd glint in his eyes.

“Game over, Minerva.” He slowly lifts his eyes. It’s almost as if a film covers his irises. They’re no longer a golden hue, but a dark burgundy one that flashes dangerously at me.

His next strike, I don’t even see.

I’m still rooted to the spot, terrified of what’s to come, when the first stab of pain brings me to my knees.

I look down to see his hand. His gloved hand shoved deep into my chest cavity.

I let out a loud gasp, followed by a wheezing sound as his fingers dig around the inside of my chest until they find their target.

He grips my heart and pulls, ripping it out of my chest.

One last breath leaves my lips, enough to see that vital organ drop to the ground next to me, enough to realize that this is the end.

“Mine,” I whisper or attempt to. He needs to know; he needs to…

Coldness surrounds me and my gaze becomes blurry.

A dark cloud descends into the forest, or is it a tornado? I cannot tell for sure, just as I cannot tell any longer what is real and what is not.

This swirl of dark matter lands on the ground next to me and starts gaining the shape of a person, a male.

His features are shrouded in mystery, but there is something familiar about him.

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