Before we can even flinch, one of the figures hurls a fireball straight at us. The spell burns a trail through the night, heat prickling my skin. I stretch my fingers and call the wind—air swirling, answering my will. With a sharp gesture, I wrench the fireball downward, twisting its path. It crashes into the cobblestones with a thunderous roar, bursting into a spray of embers that light up the alley. Through the haze and the splitting flames, Arael bursts forward, dagger flashing in her grip, boots pounding stone.
She's quick, but not quick enough. I shape another gust—air swirling invisibly, gathering beneath my control. Flexing my will, I slap the wind against her back. She surges forward, feet barely touching stone, momentum doubling. I pivot, eyes locking onto the cloaked figure who flung the fire. He chants low, arcane sigils swirling around his hands—fiery glyphs igniting the air. Amateur, I think. The other figure crouches, palms pressed to the earth, lips moving in silent command. I can feel the ground tremble, magic coiling beneath the surface. Arael is almost on him.
She lunges, dagger poised—but the earth convulses. Stone erupts in a jagged wall between her and her target. Her blade smashes into it and snaps, shards spinning away. Dust clouds her vision. Suddenly, the wall shudders and bursts apart. The crouched figure barrels through, stone fused to his skin like living armour. He swings a fist—rock meeting flesh—and hammers Arael in the chest. She flies backward, blood spraying from her lips, body bouncing hard off the stones.
With a surge of wind magic, I launch myself forward—world blurring, heart pounding. I skid to a halt, nearly chest-to-chest with the cloaked mage. I thrust my hand forward, so close I can see the panic in his eyes.
No words. No hesitation. I unleash the spell—a jet of fire bursts from my palm, roaring over his face. Flames devour his hood, licking up his hair and beard. He collapses in a steaming heap, smoke curling from scorched flesh. But the stone-armoured brute is already pounding toward me, massive fists raised, every step cracking the cobblestones.
I fling my arm up, channeling raw magic—an inferno bursts forth, a wave of white-hot fire. The flames wash over the stone titan, swirling and snapping, but he pushes through with a guttural roar. Molten rock drips from his armor, yet he barely slows, relentless.
Blood still streaking her chin, Arael sprints in from behind. She leaps, clinging to the stone man's back, broken dagger clenched in her fist. I clamp down on my magic, cutting the flames just in time. The brute thrashes, trying to shake her off, but Arael drives the shattered blade into a seam in the rock plating. It won't pierce. She grits her teeth, screams, and jams the blade down with all her weight. With a sickening crunch, it bursts through his throat. Blood sprays. He staggers, arms clawing uselessly at the air.
From the short distance away, I can hear the man gargling on his blood, and I see his arms no longer trying to grab Arael but fall limp. He drops to his knees, and the stone peels away from his body, Arael left standing above him.
Arael spits, wiping blood from her mouth. "Damned cultist broke my blade." Her voice is ragged.
"We'll get you another. But first, we need to move—sewage line's this way."
She hesitates, wrinkling her nose. "The what? Oh, hell no."
I'm already moving, glancing over my shoulder. "It's the only way out, unless you want to storm the main gate."
We break into a run, boots echoing on the stone as we wind through shadowed alleys. The sounds of the fight fade behind us. Soon, the sharp stench of sewage hits—Arael groans, but doesn't slow. We reach the water's edge, filthy and black, the only escape route left. Without hesitation, we plunge in. The steel gates loom ahead, rusted and thick, separating us from freedom.
I press my palms to the cold, rusted steel. Arael watches, nose wrinkled at the stench. Focusing my will, I spark a thread of Iskra—lightning crackling between my fingers, energy humming. Power surges, and with a boom, the bars explode outward, molten metal raining into the dark water.
Gasping and soaked, we haul ourselves through the broken gate, the city of Ansmery shrinking behind us. For the first time, there's only the open road ahead—and Arael at my side.