Page 56 of Chained to the Horned God
But above it all, louder and clearer than anything else, I hear Barsok’s voice echoing fiercely through the chaos.
"Valoa!"
My heart leaps painfully, and with every ounce of strength left, I run toward him, toward freedom, toward whatever comes next.
Smoke coils thickly around us, choking, bitter with ash and burning flesh, filling my lungs until every breath is agony. The screams ring louder, piercing and shrill, echoing through the chaos, blending with Scar’s deep, guttural laughter as flames lash the stands. My heart pounds furiously, threatening to burst through my ribs, and still, I push harder, legs pumping, body propelled by raw desperation and the urgent, unbearable need to reach him.
I spot Barsok through the smoke and dust, standing like an immovable force amidst the madness, his eyes searching wildly. His fur is streaked with soot, bloodied and matted, yet even battered and bruised, he's magnificent, the very essence of defiance. Our gazes lock fiercely across the space, sparking something bright and unstoppable within me. I surge forward, every muscle screaming in protest, ignoring pain, ignoring fear—ignoring everything except the need to reach him.
"Valoa!" His voice is a harsh rasp, raw with emotion, barely audible above the roars and screams surrounding us. He closes the remaining distance swiftly, his powerful strides devouring the sand until he crashes into me, arms encircling me so tightly I gasp. He kisses me fiercely, desperately, his lips hot and urgent against mine, tasting of smoke, blood, and the iron tang of survival. The world tilts sharply, dissolving into a whirlwind of sensation, every nerve electrified, hyper-aware of his rough fur, the solid muscle beneath, the fierce pounding of his heart pressed tightly to my own.
“Barsok,” I whisper urgently against his lips, voice cracking. “We have to?—”
“Run,” he finishes, pulling back sharply, eyes blazing fiercely, determination radiating from him in powerful waves. “Now.”
He grabs my hand tightly, fingers intertwining with mine, and suddenly we’re moving, sprinting blindly toward the massive gates looming ahead, impossibly far yet tantalizinglyclose. My robes tangle around my legs, tripping me, nearly sending me sprawling, but Barsok steadies me, never breaking stride, his grip fierce, unyielding.
The world explodes around us, chaos reigns unchecked—Scar’s flames torch the stands mercilessly, turning stone to molten ruin, sending nobles and guards scattering like rats. Shrieks of pain and terror blend into a cacophony, deafening, monstrous, a symphony of destruction. My eyes burn fiercely, blurred by tears and smoke, but I keep running, propelled by sheer, stubborn will and Barsok’s relentless momentum.
At the gates, Durk and Sharonna fight ferociously, their weapons flashing brightly, crimson-stained blades singing through the air. Durk roars defiantly, one-handed, a deadly dance of violence and rage. Sharonna moves with deadly grace, precise and efficient, dispatching guards swiftly, eyes glinting coldly. Behind them, others battle desperately, the air thick with the sharp clang of steel, cries of pain, the wet splash of blood.
“MOVE!” Durk bellows, voice booming fiercely, commanding obedience. “We’re clear—move now!”
Barsok surges forward, pulling me tightly alongside him, his body a shield, an immovable force protecting me from harm. My heart hammers painfully, adrenaline surging wildly, each step drawing us nearer to freedom, nearer to a future that’s finally ours to claim. Every sense sharpens fiercely, capturing every detail—the gritty taste of ash coating my tongue, the metallic tang of blood hanging heavily, the blistering heat licking fiercely at our backs.
A deafening roar splits the air, deep, thunderous, shaking the ground beneath our feet. My head jerks instinctively, eyes widening in shock as the great stone walls crumble violently, massive blocks crashing heavily to the ground, sending clouds of dust billowing upward, choking and blinding. Scar’s laughterrings triumphantly, flames cascading from his open jaws, engulfing everything, painting the sky in searing reds and golds.
“KEEP RUNNING!” Barsok bellows fiercely, dragging me forward, his voice ragged yet determined, unyielding. “Don’t look back—don’t stop!”
But instinct forces one last glance, my heart seizing painfully as flames dance wildly, consuming everything, devouring the oppressive stone walls, the brutal arena that’s imprisoned us all. Through the haze, I spot Lotor’s panicked face, twisted grotesquely, mouth open in a scream lost amid the chaos. My chest tightens fiercely, fierce satisfaction tempered by horror, by the raw, brutal savagery of this moment.
Yet Barsok’s grip tightens, relentless, insistent, dragging me forward, away from darkness, toward freedom. We burst through the shattered gates, the jungle looming ahead, wild and tangled, thick with green shadows and humid promise. The sudden shift from burning chaos to vibrant life sends my senses reeling—the lush, earthy scent of foliage and damp soil replaces smoke and blood, the cool shadows enveloping us instantly, washing away blistering heat, offering sanctuary.
“Go, go!” Sharonna urges breathlessly, sprinting alongside us, her voice sharp yet fierce, driving us forward. “We have to disappear—now!”
Branches whip harshly against my face, leaves catching in my tangled hair, the jungle clutching greedily, desperately trying to hold us back. My lungs scream painfully, muscles quivering violently, yet determination fuels every step. Behind us, the screams slowly fade, swallowed by distance and greenery, replaced by the chorus of birds and the distant, eerie howl of unseen creatures.
“Barsok,” I gasp raggedly, voice trembling, unable to fully express everything boiling wildly inside me—relief, fear, hope, disbelief. “Did we?—?”
“Yes,” he growls fiercely, pulling me closer, voice thick, hoarse with emotion. “We made it, Valoa. We’re free.”
Tears spill uncontrollably, hot and unchecked, mixing with sweat and dirt, blurring my vision, yet a laugh escapes me, breathless and wild, bubbling from deep inside my chest. Barsok’s laughter joins mine, rough and joyous, a sound so unexpected, so beautiful it makes my heart ache painfully.
“Gods,” I choke out through tears and laughter, gripping his hand desperately, needing the grounding reassurance of his touch. “We’re free. Barsok, we’re finally?—”
“Together,” he finishes fiercely, stopping abruptly to pull me close, his eyes blazing fiercely, filled with raw, unspoken promises. “And nothing—no one—will ever tear us apart again.”
I nod shakily, unable to form words, too overwhelmed, heart too full, emotions too chaotic, powerful and all-consuming. Around us, the others slow, breathing heavily, eyes wide, dazed yet fiercely hopeful, their gazes fixed firmly on Barsok, waiting silently for direction.
“We need to keep moving,” Durk grunts quietly, casting wary glances backward, body taut, tense. “They’ll regroup quickly.”
Barsok nods sharply, jaw tightening in determination. “Let them try. We’ll fight again if we must. But for now, we run. Deep into the jungle, somewhere safe. Then we plan.”
Sharonna steps forward, wiping sweat from her brow, face flushed yet fiercely defiant. “I know a place. Mike’s camp—it’s hidden, well-protected. They’ll shelter us.”
Barsok hesitates briefly, eyes flicking uncertainly to me, wary. I squeeze his hand reassuringly, nodding slowly. “We don’t have many choices. At least until we know what’s next.”
He exhales sharply, reluctant yet resigned, shoulders squared resolutely. “Fine. Lead the way.”
