The whine of my lungs was like a rusty bellows, scraping with every labored breath as I hauled myself up the last of the stairs. Each step was a jolt, rattling through my bones and the dull ache in my head bloomed, throbbing like it was ready to crack my skull open. The migraine thudded in rhythm with my heartbeat, drowning out my own ragged breaths.
"Fucking low stamina." The curse escaped between pants, my chest rising and falling. Felt like something was about to break.
When I finally reached the landing, the metallic taste on my tongue was so sharp, I gagged. But relief? Gone in an instant. Replaced by that twist of apprehension. The kind that sinks deep and gnaws.
Where were the sounds? Shouldn't there be clashing swords? Cries? The rooftop should have been echoing with battle.
Something was wrong.
