Senara ground her teeth to keep from screeching has she hurtled through the shale down, forever down, in a cloud of dust and small debris. She slid to a stop and couldn’t move. Her ears ringing from the sound of falling stone, it took a moment for the voices above to filter through. She groaned. If she could still hear them, she was far too close. She rolled over and checked her sword for damage. Nothing a little time with a stone wouldn’t fix.

Another groan would not be contained as she pushed herself to her feet, stumbling before being able to balance. Anything that hadn’t hurt before, did now. The light mesh armor she was wearing had protected the skin that was covered, but all of the exposed flesh was now scraped and bleeding. There had to be somewhere nearby where she could hide, could lie down for an hour or so. If there wasn’t, that tumble would have been for nothing, because she could not stay ahead of a whole division of soldiers feeling like this.

Wait. Somewhere near here was an old Orcus temple, from back in the days long ago when they were revered instead of enslaved. Janirus, Wanha’s illegal mate had told them a few of the stories when the soldiers weren’t listening. Even if the temple was abandoned and no good as a place to hide, perhaps there was something there that could remove her bracelet.

Oh, to feel the healing sweep through her body, to reconnect to the magic waiting to be stroked into submission. It had been such a short time since she was cut off, but the pull was there already, the need.

She squinted up at the sky, getting a bearing on where she was. Late morning. The major battle had already begun somewhere close. By now the generals would be screaming at their aides, trying to find the Orcus. There was not much left to find. Having an Uthorian stumble on her held little more appeal than if Titus found her. Her fate would be the same at eithers hand. She was done with that. It was time to decide her own fate.

With the new plan and new hope, Senara headed in the direction the temple should be, pushing aside the pain from the new scrapes and bruises, filing it somewhere to be acknowledged later. One thing at least her teachers in Arnath had been useful for, to teach her to work even while in mind-numbing amounts of pain.

The three mile trek to the temple took far longer than it should have. Twice she had to drop down and cover herself, hiding from soldiers. Thankfully she saw no sign of Titus, or his great warhorse.

The cold began to sink into her body like it never had before. Was the lack of magic flow affecting her, or was there an injury she hadn’t felt yet, something sending her into shock? It didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that did was finding the temple. It was one of many spread throughout Uthoria. Only the oldest of the Orcus had stories from their parents of back when the Orcus were not only free, but revered.

Senara moved through the woods, looking for a landmark. The only reason this specific temple had been brought up was that they were going to be near it for this battle. Fortunately for her. The others would never see this place. A tear started down her face, freezing to her cheek. She rarely allowed herself to get close to any of the other Orcus, but their deaths still weighed heavily on her. Was she truly the last?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

At least Harington wasn’t here to see all of this. No doubt the boy had fought bravely before his death, just as she’d taught him. But he wasn’t old enough to die. Just a child, really. He’d been hers to train, but too young to take part in a battle yet.

As if staying behind had done him any good.

Her right hand and shoulder ached from carrying her sword. She switched it to her left and flexed to regain feeling.

There, barely visible in the growing dark. A statue, covered in moss and hardly resembling a person, but manmade none-the-less. A few feet to the left was the remnant of a pedestal. This was it, the path that led to the temple. It had to be.

The ground beneath her feet felt different as she shuffled forward. Harder. She used her toe to kick at it. Pavers of some kind, under the normal forest decay. A tiny tingle of hope went through her.

It wasn’t far before the remains of a building showed through the trees. Shrubs grew through cracks in the walls, grass in the courtyard. Now would be a really great time to be able to create a fireball, for light, for heat, and to keep away anything that may have claimed this as their home since the keepers of the temple were driven away by angry peasants and soldiers.

She moved past the outer wall. Inside was another large courtyard. Built to hold petitioners until an Orcus volunteered to go with them and slay a dragon or reroute a river.

The large wood door had been broken open at some point, far in the distant past. Most likely when the temples had been overrun. The second she crossed the threshold, it hit her. The feeling of magic, flowing through her, fighting the magic of the bracelet. She bit back a gasp as angry prickles ran down her arm. Could she overpower the bracelet here? If there was anywhere in the country that she could, it would be one of the temples. Real hope, the first she’d felt in awhile, warmed her. Freedom.

Focusing all her magic into her arm, she pushed, desperately hard, trying to force the bracelet to unlock. Tingling started in her side where the worst of her injuries from the beating the night before still made their presence known, even though it had done some healing during the battle earlier. She was healing. She sent a little trickle of magic in that direction and fell screaming to the floor as searing pain shot through the bracelet and throughout her body.

As soon as she stopped the pain went back to the prickling, which no longer seemed quite as bad. She stayed on the floor for a moment, breath in through her nose, breathe out through her mouth.

She wouldn’t be trying that again.

After a bit she was able to stand. It wasn’t nearly as painful this time. Somehow she was being healed, even without consciously doing it herself. She made her way over to the wall, picking her way over rocks and wood, looking for something that could remove the bracelet.

After moving closer to the wall, Senara could make out carvings in the dim light. Once beautiful murals chiseled over crudely with depictions of a man, an elemental by the look of the lightning coming off of him. The story went from him side by side with Aranthian soldiers and slowly changed to him killing the ones he had fought with before taking over a throne. Garanath. It had to be. He was the reason for the plight of all Orcus now. He had struck down his comrades to rule many generations ago. And not long after his death the enslavement of the Orcus began.

Senara stepped forward and ran a finger over the man. Had he known when he’d started his attack on his own people how much anguish he would cause? Not only for his generation, but generations after? He had to have known. And yet he hadn’t cared. She shivered a little. It would be easy to become like him. To trust only in her power and not care about the consequences.

But now was not the time for pointless self-examination. This bracelet had to come off, one way or another.

Her grip tightened around her sword. One way, or another.