The Crescent Hour ✓

Chapter 30. The Mist

Clara was thrown off the ground. She slammed into a wall. A rush of panic welled in her. Her head throbbed from the impact, streaks of colors blurring her vision. She whipped her arm up, aiming her flashlight at the shadows.

The beast flew at her, tongue bursting out of its bloodied mouth. She swung the scimitar in a curve, slitting its throat. It coughed, hands clawing at its neck before collapsing in a heap. She waited for the dizziness to pass.

When she was ready, she rushed to the obelisk. There was a deafening bang somewhere in the coliseum. A pillar had been broken.

She gave her own obelisk a kick. “You’ve no idea how much trouble you’ve put me through!”

It really did look like a piece of the night sky. There were sigils carved from the top to the bottom. It wasn’t just the blackstone draining aether from the surroundings. The sigils must have worked in conjunction with it.

Giving the pillar another kick, she put the flashlight between her teeth. She removed the flap from the disc bomb, slapped it on the blackstone and pressed the button with an immense sense of satisfaction.

The bomb ticked like a time clock. She spun, running as far away from the obelisk as she could. Five seconds away. Four seconds away. Three seconds away.

“If I die here,” Clara said, swinging her blade as if to strike an invisible enemy. “It’s all your fault, Naaji!”

The obelisk exploded in a shower of stones. She paused to catch a breath, safe from the falling rocks. There was a growl in the shadows somewhere to her left and before she could move, a rabid creature lunged at her.  

It bit her leg, setting her skin on fire. Clara toppled over to the ground. The pain was unbearable. It robbed her of the scream in her throat, of the strength in her limbs. The scimitar clattered to the floor, landing between two seats. The torch rolled just out of reach, bouncing the light in front of her. It showed her what she wasn’t supposed to look at.

Her leg was bent at an unnatural angle, a pale bone visible from flaps of shredded skin. The beast slurped at the crimson pool and the tattered fabric of her trousers.

A white haze blinded her. Tears stung her eyes. She did not let them fall. She’d sworn not to cry, not ever since her mother had passed away. Reaching for Rai’s gun, she took aim at the beast, right between its eyes. The gun flashed and a bang resonated. The beast thudded on the floor.

Pure agony knifed at her nerves, poking and skewering her leg. She lay there for some time, blinking at the shadows, breathing through clenched teeth.

"Are you mocking me, Naaji?" she said,an edge of bitterness to her voice.   

How utterly foolish she was. She was speaking to a dead man, blaming him for her own actions. She needed to move. Her blood would attract the other beasts. Gathering the little strength she was left with, she picked up the flashlight and crawled towards the seat in search of the scimitar. She found it lying amidst a pile of bones.

Clara stabbed the scimitar on the ground, using it to push herself to her knees. Struggling to breathe, she mapped out a path in her mind.

She had a goal: to reach the arena past the walls. She would be safe there. She tricked her mind into believing that flagrant lie, that false hope. Slowly, Clara stood on one leg. She staggered forward, dragging her broken leg, leaving a wet trail behind her.

She made it across three tiers before tripping on the ground. Dust particles nibbled at her face. She forced herself to sit. Resting her pounding head against the side of a seat, she raised her good leg, bending it at the knee.