Page 123 of Owned

Run.

I didn’t hesitate.

I couldn’t feel my feet, and every step was agony. But I ran. The ground tore at my feet; the air burned in my lungs, but Ireveled in it and let the pain drive me forward—or back—where was I going? Back to the mansion? Back to Withermarsh?

I stumbled over roots and fallen branches and I knew that my bare feet were bleeding. I couldn’t stop.

Their pursuit was like thunder in my ears, the pounding of footsteps and the harsh shouts that echoed between the trees.

I had to escape them—I had to believe I could, because the alternative was too dark to bear.

The forest was a blur and trees reached out with skeletal branches to pull me back. It felt like they were alive, like they were closing in on me at the same speed as my pursuers.

I crashed through the underbrush and thorns tore at my skin.

The magic inside me flickered like a candle. I tried to reach for it to call it forth again, but it was too elusive… out of focus. My mind reeled with the effort of it, and with the desperate desire to make it bend to my will.

I cursed it, begged it to come back.

“The keyline,”the grimoire murmured.“Too strong—”

The world shrank to the space of my breath.

The ragged gasp, the hollow exhale.

It was all that existed. The forest blurred around me and the trees became a smear of color that twisted with each stumbling step.

My limbs refused to cooperate, and the pain surged back—stronger than before.

My magic was gone, a fickle thing that abandoned me when I needed it most.

The grimoire’s whispers were silent.

I staggered and leaned against the trunk of a tree.

I was exposed. I was vulnerable.

And they knew it.

The masked figures closed in, circling like vultures.

I struggled to keep moving, but it was impossible.

All I knew was the burning in my lungs, the blinding pain in my limbs and torso, and the hot, useless tears that blurred my sight.

It was almost dawn—the light between the trees mocked me.

“We’ve got her,” someone said, an edge of triumph in their voice.

I wanted to scream and lash out, but I had nothing left.

“Lucky she came back across the keyline,” the woman said.

Blunt hands seized me and I went limp against them. I didn’t have any strength left to fight; even the grief that welled up inside me was hollow and too exhausted to fill my chest. I closed my eyes.

“Not so defiant now,” the woman’s voice taunted. Her fingers brushed my neck, light and cold as a snake.

The keyline.

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