"Machia, Guardian of the Northern Mountain. I won't let you take me."
I take one last glance at the creature nearing me with its face, my pulse quickening every second before I swiftly turn around, running in the direction of the cliff. I shut my bag that fell on my waist and jumped without having to rethink my decisions.
I'm sure I left the creature stunned with my actions as I heard it let out an inaudible sound. But I could care less; the fall is deep enough to give me this opportunity.
Popping the lid of the bottle, I chugged down every last drop that the bottle contained. I feel my stomach grumbling, my sight blurring.
I pray that Ducan gave me the right potion, or this would be the worse decision I've made. For the first time, I put my trust in Ducan's work to save my life.
