Page 159 of Godbound
I risk a glance past Kaelzar’s shoulder. Zyrel crouches beneath his dragon’s belly, the beast shielding him completely. Glass shards rain down on them, clattering against thick scales. Most bounce harmlessly off, but some sink deep where the scales thin—at the joints of its legs, the base of its neck, along its tail.
That’s when I understand. The part of Zyrel’s magic that was taken is the magic of Transformation. If he still had it, he could have turned the glass into water, dust, anything.
Suddenly, there’s a deafening quiet. For a few moments, we wait.When it becomes clear that the last shard has fallen, Kaelzar lowers his arm, and the wall of shadow crumbles into mist. In its place, smaller shadowy shapes rise from the ground—dozens of slender, twitching silhouettes. I blink, realizing what they are.
“Brooms?” I breathe.
Kaelzar shrugs as they sweep the glass away in neat, brisk strokes, clearing a path before me. The sight would almost be comical if not for Zyrel’s sudden roar across the arena.
“Take her head off, you useless beast!” he bellows, kicking his dragon’s leg. The blow barely makes the creature flinch. But I do on the dragon’s behalf.
Any trace of pity vanishes when the dragon’s manic, dark eyes lock onto me.
Before it can lunge, Kaelzar is already moving, charging straight at it. Two shadow-forged blades extend from his arms, and a swirling mass of darkness rises at his side, taking form. The audience erupts into a roaring frenzy, hungry for the spectacle.
I don’t wait to see what kind of creature my Godbeast calls forth. He’s doing his part—holding off the dragon—while I do mine. I run.
Out of the corner of my eye, Zyrel bursts forward too, his leather boots crushing the glass shards under his weight.
We move in unison, both sprinting toward our thrones. The distance isn’t far. If I’m fast enough, I can reach my magic before he even tries to stop me.
But I’ve barely gained a few feet when something shoots from the ground—a thin, writhing spike of metal, like a silver worm. I twist to dodge it and keep running until pain flares around my ankle.
I’m yanked backward so hard I crash face-first into the floor, air exploding from my chest. The ground quakes with the clash of dragon and shadow somewhere behind me as I scramble to understand what just happened.
Then I see it. The ‘worm’ is no creature, it’s a wire, thin and barbed, coiled tightly around my ankle. Blood already slicks the metal. I grab at it, trying to pull it free, but the spikes slice into my fingers.
The wire seems almost alive, its other end buried deep in theground.
When I try to pry it open, it tightens, cutting deeper into my skin.
The memory of Kaelzar’s chains biting into his flesh flashes through my mind, and I can’t help but wonder if the Sphere knows. Did it take his pain and turn it into ours?
Zyrel is a few strides ahead, wrestling with two wires. One coiled around his thigh, another cutting into his wrist. He yanks and twists with all his strength, but the more he fights, the tighter they bind.
A deafening snap rings out to my right, and I dare a glance. Kaelzar is locked in his own battle. His shadows form a swarm of dog-sized spiders, flinging thick webs that pin the dragon’s limbs to the ground.
The dragon roars, and in its fury turns the second part of Zyrel’s magic—Beast magic—against them.
It rips scales from its body with its teeth and lets them fall. As each scale strikes the ground, it twists and lengthens into a writhing silver serpent that slithers toward me, tongue flicking, hissing warnings.
It’s grotesque magic—the counterpart to his Transformation magic. It seems that to make it work, Zyrel would have to use parts of himself to turn into beasts—a self-wounding price he hasn’t yet been willing to pay.
Kaelzar pivots, his shadow blades slicing through the snakes faster than my eyes can follow. Heads roll, and the clash of beasts continues.
I push myself upright, breathing hard, careful not to jerk my trapped leg. Maybe if I move slowly, the wire won’t pull so hard. For a moment, it works. One step. Two. Six.
But then the barbs tighten, digging deeper, tugging me back. Not enough to stop me, just enough to slow me, to cause me more pain.
I do my best to ignore it, just as I ignore the crowd’s shouts—cheers, screams, and boos alike.
Five more steps, and another wire shoots up from the ground. Before I can react, it lashes around my upper arm, the barbs biting into bare skin. I grit my teeth, wishing I’d worn sleeves, any fabric might’ve dulled the sting.
Ahead, Zyrel strains against five wires now. They drag at him with brutal force, but I notice something: mine aren’t pulling nearly as hard.So I keep moving just as slowly as I have been, eyes scanning for the next trap.
It comes without warning. A third wire bursts upward and wraps around my thigh, tearing through my pants. The barbs rake my skin, drawing more blood. I can’t stop the cry that rips from my throat.
Instantly, black fires spark across the ground and leap toward me. My Godbeast’s shadows ignite at the base of every wire holding me down.
