An elf enters a street-race tournament to escape a corrupt city trapped in endless night.
*****
|| Voltyss is one of the last-standing cities caught in the Evernight, an endless night that spread across the land when the moon and stars fell from the...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The door bangs open, and this time I truly believe the lights in the entire Amethyst District are out and this is the final stand against the Evernight. The Moon King's creatures have finally slipped inside the city and the House of Horns has been compromised. If the nightstalkers made it this far, that must mean all the lorkins upstairs are in bloody pieces.
Venjo.
My heart surprisingly tugs for him because of the revelation Zuma had shared with me. Is he among the dead? I'll never get to thank him for saving me, even though living only brought me death again.
The nightstalker vision I'd imagined is suddenly more real than I can handle. A tear escapes my closed eyes, sliding down across my temple, stinging the fresh cut left there by Zuma. I can't breathe anymore, despite my gasping attempts.
Something suddenly grabs my arm, heat setting my skin aflame, claws digging into my skin. My eyes and mouth open at the same time as I finally unleash a shriek into the dark. In a second, I'm blinded by white light and the grip on my arm vanishes only to cover my mouth instead, muting my scream. For once, the light is much worse than the dark and I wish I could die without seeing what horrible thing found me. I want to close my eyes, I need to, but I can't. I'm a prisoner to my own fear.
I blink through the light, my eyes trailing up to find familiar liquid steel eyes.
"Shh..." Venjo slowly pulls his hand away from my mouth. "Don't scream. They'll hear you and the lights will be back on soon."
I give him a slight nod, although it may seem like more of a tremble to him. I must look all shades of broken under the white beam of the lightstick he grips in his other hand.
"You—" I manage to croak out. "Why are you here?" My voice shakes, mirroring the frenzied beating of my heart.
"I'm asking myself the same question in my head," he answers. He seems as breathless as me, moving quickly as he sets the lightstick down on the table next to me, then reaches into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a small ribbed cylinder that looks strangely familiar.
"Is that a torcher?" My voice hitches at the word, worrying what he will do with the mini-torch of blue fire famed to be able to cut through anything. I teeter on the edge of disbelief and fear that he might have come to finish Zuma's job. Her reveal about Venjo could've just been another game meant to taunt me, to break me before he was sent in to do the real torture.
Venjo clicks on the torch as an answer to my question. A thin blue flame extends from the small cylinder, reaching about as long as a finger. His jaw works under his skin, his brow creased as he keeps his gaze away from mine.
"Calm down," he says, his voice a quiet hiss. "I'm not going to hurt you." The smell of my fear must be overwhelming him, but I'm not sorry, trying to control it isn't an option at this point. He leans down toward my right arm, his eyes focused on the cuff at my wrist as he inches the flame closer. "With the electricity off, I can't unlock the cuffs, I'll have to cut through them. Now, be still or you'll be burned, okay?"
