Lit Shadows

Not good. The words repeated in Sharzin's mind as she raced through the manor, trying to find somewhere decent enough to hide. Not good. Not good!

Having originally told Ishara that his initial design of the manor had been fine, Sharzin now kicked herself for not voicing how much the home lacked in the things she wanted. The walls were too thin. The corridors too straight. The interior lacked nooks to hide or crannies to tuck into. The arcane lights and windows gave off too much light. And, while that was nice for everyone else, for her, it left little space to disappear.

This led to that moment. The one where she ran for her life as a pair of deadly pursuers gained on her. For that reason alone, she wished she had been more forthcoming. That she had been more honest about her needs. But she didn't have time to worry about that. She needed as much distance as she could get from the angels before she could do anything.

Behind her, the foyer walls exploded inward. Glancing at the way the structure shook, she could tell that the powerful blast had caused massive damage to the building. She watched as walls quaked and listened as support beams groaned. But the rogue couldn't worry about that either. She hadn't gotten nearly as far as she had hoped. She still needed to escape. Needed somewhere to hide before they saw her.

Sharzin raced down the hallway to the back of the manor, relying on the lingering dust to shroud her small form. Then, finally reaching the side passage that connected to an external door, she ducked around the corner and loaded a bolt into her crossbow.

Then a sound caught her ear. From the direction she had come, she heard them. Heard the angels. Heard their clanking footfalls as they approached. With the roof of the halls too low to fly, they had no choice but to walk. It was at least one of the benefits of fighting in the confines of her new home.

Two targets... Sharzin's frantic thoughts echoed in her mind as she hastily scribbled runes onto her weapon. Approximately eight feet three inches. Moving roughly ten feet per second. At a distance of one hundred fifteen feet. Limited dodge range and a cranial circumference of twenty-seven inches. Fire in...two…one—

With an exhale, Sharzin stepped from her corridor and released two bolts in rapid succession. As the runes she transcribed on her crossbow flared, the arrows found their mark. The first struck the nearest angel between the eyes as the other, at the same moment, pierced the divine being's heart. The only problem was that this did little to stop them. In fact, as the holy figure ripped the projectile from the pristine plate they wore, they became emboldened. Then, with a flick of the flaming sword they wielded, they began moving faster.

Crap! Crap! Crap! Sharzin thought as she ducked back down her hallway. Okay, time to get out of here!

Grabbing the fabric draped over her shoulder, the rogue ripped at her cloak. Around Sharzin, the world twisted and spun for a moment before she reappeared once more on the veranda. There, she eyed the massive hole created by the angelic assault. It was much larger than necessary. Making enough room for twice as many angels to walk through. And, just as she suspected, at a glance she could see massive amounts of structural damage that would need to be repaired to make the manor livable again.

I'll tell them that I want more shadows next time. Sharzin thought as she peered through the opening to watch the now-distant pursuers turn the corner she had been hiding behind. I want more nooks. Maybe a secret passage that only I can travel...

Not wanting to waste her moment of freedom, Sharzin ripped her cloak once more. This time, as she stepped from the twisted world of magical teleportation, she arrived at the top of the manor. Immediately, the groundling stumbled forward, nearly tumbling from the top of the structure before she could grab at the accent piece added to the roof. 

As she grappled with a bargeboard, she stabilized herself in the shadows of the second-story ledge. There she took a moment to breathe and survey the battlefield. What she saw caused a pit to form in her stomach. Flashes of light. Sparks of combat. And in the distance, Tahvinstead aflame. And though Rionriv appeared to be holding her own as she flew through the sky, both Aesandoral and Ishara appeared to be at the ends of their lines.

The moment Sharzin's eyes locked on him, she watched as Ishara was forced to the ground by a mighty blow. Then, with a ferocious kick from the champion, the oracle was sent flying into the second-story room just beneath the rogue's hiding spot. The building shook once more as shingles slid from the roof and parts of the structure collapsed inward. In an instant, the bargeboard snapped, and Sharzin lost her grip as she tumbled over the edge. But before the rogue crashed to the ground, she again gripped her cloak and vanished from sight.

Stepping through the magical puff of smoke once more, Sharzin was now atop the manor’s tallest turret. Holding firmly to the weather vane that marked the apex of the steep roof, the rogue took her free hand and gripped at her racing heart. There she felt it. The terror that they all shared. A fear she had felt time and again, but was even more powerful this time. Stronger because of him. Because of Ishara's adrenaline.

Come on, dummy. She thought, holding at the spot on her breast where his heart beat the loudest. Control your breathing. You need to focus.

Then Sharzin heard it. A loud cry that snapped her thoughts back to reality. Back from him. A scream from Aesandoral that drew her attention to the stables. To the side, where the elf had been fighting. Where it had become clear she had slipped into dire straits. And, from her perch, Sharzin gasped as she watched her friend give up the fight before adjusting herself to flee. But no matter how fast she ran, the two angels nipped at her heels. It was clear she was injured, and before long she would be overtaken by the impossible foe that wouldn't give her the distance needed to use her bow.

But that was when Sharzin could see what Aesandoral was planning. Could see the calculated movements and the race up the emerald steps. Suddenly the flight made sense. But the elf would need more time to charge her powerful shot. So Sharzin adjusted her posture atop the turret, freeing her hands long enough to load a bolt. 

With steady breaths, she focused on that moment. Allowing the calculations to race through her head, she quickly estimated distances and angles. And then, only once she was sure of the shot, did she finally release the arrow.

From her perch, she watched as it instantly cut through the air. In a flash, the bolt struck the head of the targeted angel mere moments before Aesandoral’s arrows met their mark. Then, with a thunderous detonation, the body tumbled to the roof where it rested in a heap over the edge.

Loading a bolt once more, Sharzin prepared to strike the second target Aesandoral had engaged with. That was until she heard the tiles behind her whine under the pressure of footfalls. Until she realized that she had been found.