Page 10 of Oracle of Ruin

The steam obscures my view, leaving only shadows visible. With stiff and slow paddles, I propel myself backwards, further into the bath, taking painstaking care to not send any ripples or splash the water.

“Don’t make us come in there,” a voice behind me warns. A male voice.

Some of the steam clears to reveal a heavyset man with a clean-shaven face armed to the teeth with cursed blades. I eye those dark weapons. They knew who they’d find here.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, gentlemen, but a lady is quite choosy about the company she keeps.” I slip further under the water, using just my feet to kick through the current now. No splashing, no sounds or motions to give away my location. If I can hold out a bit longer, someone will come, assuming I’ve drowned. I hope it is Amír—she could easily take half of the masses forming by the lip of the bathing pool. Or Kya, who could kill them all in half a minute.

My legs already grow weary as I now begin to curse the depth of this pool. Maybe a few months ago, I could have tread water long enough for someone to come help, but now, my muscles are already feeling fatigued. Rage can only fuel someone for so long. The burnout comes eventually.

I count the heads to see about fifty men standing by the edge—heavily armed men who are much larger and far less wet. There’s only one exit to the bathhouse and it’s bound to be heavily guarded. I smirk. Evading the pursuit of a small army has never been a problem before.

Beneath my skin, power surges, sending my veins aglow. I call for the power, but do not allow it the release it craves, instead letting it build just beneath the surface. My skin heats and the water around me begins to bubble. My head swims as I call for more, and the steam rises.

Just a bit more. I’m too close to a burnout, and if I keep this up, I’ll boil my organs. One more push and the steam creates a thick wall between me and my assailants. One sense down, only four to go.

I move quietly while I still can. That pressure pleads to be released, but I rein it in. If my powers sound off, I’ll be a walking lighthouse through this fog.

The men swear and scramble for their bearings, the exit temporarily lost. If they brought this many men, it’s safe to assume they must have the others already and I’ll be on my own to get through the remaining guards at the door.

I slip from the pool silently, listening carefully to make sure even the smallest droplet of water doesn’t fall and give me away. I step into the thick of the steam.

My head spins as a fist encircles my upper arm, eliciting a small gasp of pain.

“Got the—”

He has no time to speak as I ram the heel of my palm into his mouth. His teeth scrape my skin, drawing blood, and he begins to gag and foam at the mouth. I notice a tinge of silver on his peeled-back lips and watch with a grimace as my blood poisons him.

I spare no time to hesitate as I sprint to the exit, the wind chilling my naked body. Another arm wraps around my midsection, someone’s hand going for my face. I bite down hard and bump my rear against the man’s crotch, using my momentum now to flip him over my shoulder onto the slick floor.

“By the exit! Through the steam!”

Shit. The open door is drawing the steam out. No time for fear or modesty, I sprint open-armed towards my one chance of escape. I unfurl my fingers and raise my palms, preparing for that release my body has been begging me for.

From my left, still obscured by the slight vapor of the air, an elbow rams into my jaw, sending me sprawling across the floor. Before I can stand or even gather my bearings, another man grips my arms, pinning them painfully behind my back.

“Down, bitch,” he growls out.

Some of the other soldiers wince as he hauls me unceremoniously to my feet. My head lolls back, a mix of pain and burnout dulling my senses. Panic fights against these bodily restraints, but in the end, yields as the world spins.

I don’t see Rowan or the Nightwalkers as I’m pushed outside the building. They must have been moved to a secondary location already.

“Here.” Another man steps forward, my crumpled clothing in his hands. With my arms pinned, I cannot take them, and the assailant holding me just shoulders them aside. I can’t find it in myself to feel humiliation, despite knowing I am on full display. If emaciated young girls are their type, then I have bigger concerns, like freezing to death in this weather.

Without the sun to warm the mountains, the temperatures have dropped significantly. Goosebumps speckle my skin and my fingers go numb.

“Boss isn’t going to like this, Argon,” another man warns, his gaze averted to the forest floor as we move. “Give the girl some clothes. She’s going to freeze to death before we get there.” How considerate for a kidnapper.

The man immobilizing me, Argon, only grunts and picks up his pace. My legs have long since given out and he is practically dragging me through the trees. My bare feet snag on branches and stones, cutting their sensitive soles. Gold glints on the pine needles behind us. The tears in my flesh extend up my calves as Argon’s arms grow tired of holding mine. His grip loosens as he senses I have grown too tired to fight back. Some boss wanted me, someone they were all too afraid of to harm me. Everyone except Argon, apparently.

But which enemy are they leading me to now? I’ve heard rumors of nobles working for Ophelus and Lucius to find us, though these men look far from the nobility type. Are they rebels, or Mavis’s?

We trek onwards through the night, and bywe, I meantheywalk and Argon drags me through the muck and mud. Small stones slice the tender flesh on my back to ribbons. I wouldn’t be surprised if the stones cut to the bone for lack of fat and muscle to protect them. They ignore my shivering and the audible chatter of my teeth. Any protests or requests to Argon to allow me modesty and warmth are met with a glare of steel.

But this cold…

My lips sting with the cold yet burn when I drag my tongue over them. The night and chill have no end, just constant stabbing pain through my purple flesh. This isn’t the kind of cold that can be solved with a blanket and a seat by the fire. No, this cold is wicked and cruel, and every breath I takes sends my lungs rattling within my rib cage. Pain surrounds me, my every unwilling motion and breath. My fingernails throb. I didn’t know fingernails could hurt, but they do, and they hurt badly.

My body is far too frozen to even process panic. There’s only been one time before this where I have felt such cold. Invisible snowflakes stick to my skin, my eyelashes. My leg screams with burning pain that even the freeze cannot dull. Howling echoes within my skull. I need to look away from the woods, but I can’t blink. Can’t move my gaze.

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