Page 129 of Cursed Shadows 4

Arms hugged onto the edge, one leg hooked in place, the other dangles…

One wrong move and I am gone.

If I fall…

The thought burns my insides with sick.

It thickens my throat, becauseone wrong move… and I fall.

There is no surviving that drop.

Not if I landed on the rocks, not if I went through the gaps and landed in the underground caves and streams and rivers. All of it is a certain death.

I find no scraps of strength in me to move.

Fear has me frozen on the side of the ledge.

My face twists with the onslaught of tears washing over me. And still, that menacing slam and zing of the litalf advancing on me hasn’t faded. He hasn’t fallen away.

I wish him death.

I wish him wrong footing.

Then a burst of panic erupts in my chest.

But it isn’t mine.

My panic screams, it chills my chest, slingshots my heart through my body, thrums my bones, spills my tears—

This panic is an echo, a boom that cascades over me.

My breath hitches.

I tense against the ice, my lashes shut on the shutter of my heart.

Daxeel…

Is it really you?

Gritting my teeth, I angle my chin to graze along the icy ledge. Neck twisted and arched, I manage a glance down the cliff. The crevasse is littered with bloody warriors and the gleams of metal.

The cliff is dotted by contenders scaling after me.

And it’s so far down.

Nausea burns my throat at the sheer heights I cling to—barely.

Five rocks down, the closest litalf slams his blades into the cracks, then propels himself up higher.

Below him, on the overhang, is another light one. This one doesn’t climb.

She crouches.

Her sight is locked onto me, a bow in her hands, an arrow notched and ready to fly.

Panic flares my eyes.

A shuddering breath cuts through me.

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