to repair my broken cranium and stop my brain from hemor-rhaging. When my vision finally returned and my skull became solid once again, it was too late, the attacker was already standing over me, stomping his thick boot down forcefully on my throat, cutting off the oxygen once again.
Forcing my nerves under control and taking one final breath, I sent a rush of all the magic I had 157/711
left through my veins and shivered under the force of it. And thankfully, finding that when my magic was full force, I didn't actually need to breathe. I grabbed his foot as strongly as I could, my delicate hands seemed miniscule next to his thick calf and steel toed boot. I pushed with everything I had, pushing him thirty feet the opposite direction and finally giving myself plenty of room to breathe.
With a quick intake of breath, I was on my feet and next to him. I raised my left foot and brought it down heavily onto his face, both feeling and hearing his nose shatter underneath the sole of my navy blue clog. Seemingly immune to pain, however, he reached up and grabbed my arm, pulling me down on top of him. I struggled and flailed my appendages but still he wrestled me underneath of him. I let out a scream of frustration, exhausted from the effort and unwilling to lose my life to such a brutal assassin.
"What do you want?" I shouted into his recovered face, fighting to keep his hands away 158/711
from my exposed throat. Sweat poured down my beaten face, despite the icy rain that had begun to descend from the sky.
"I know who you are," he growled menacingly.
I didn't doubt that he did. There was pure hate behind his eyes. My magic was dissipating from my veins in a steady stream into his open palms.
Wherever his skin touched mine, there was a portal to withdraw my life's blood.
"And you think by killing me, what? You think by draining my magic you'll what? You'll have eternal life?" I mocked harshly, downplaying what was probably the truth.
"I know that I will," he replied with frightening certainty.
As I struggled for breath and consciousness under his iron grip, my short life as an Immortal began to flash before my eyes: my confusion, meeting Kiran, Amory's guidance, Avalon, Lilly, the Resistance, my first fight. My first fight. I drained those boys of their magic without touching them once. This man, whoever he was, 159/711
seemed to need physical contact in order to take my magic. I didn't.
I focused what little energy I had left on taking his magic. I concentrated on whatever I could find, pulling magic from remote places I didn't know existed, willing him to give up what was rightfully mine, but it was no use. I was too weak. Whatever advanced skill I used in that first battle had been drained from my blood and the attacker now possessed it.
He was really starting to piss me off.
And then it dawned on me. He could take my magic by touching me, but I was also touching him. I didn't have to take his energy remotely; I could take it back the same way he was.
I sucked in another labored breath and focused this time, not on an idea or concept, but on his actual flesh. I focused on his knees that were digging into my thighs to keep me pinned to the ground. I focused on his hands holding my shoulders tightly to the concrete and I focused on the tips of his boots digging into my ankles.
160/711
Slowly, almost unnoticeably at first, I began to reclaim my magic.
At first our struggle resembled something like tug-of-war. I pulled a little magic back and he re-took the electricity again. I held my breath, not even allowing the effort of breathing to weaken my attempts. I pulled again, holding the small amount of magic in place for a second, and then a second longer and then two seconds longer.
A drop of sweat from his forehead landed on my nose and I realized, finally, that he was weakening. With renewed vigor I pulled another miniscule amount of energy from his veins into mine, holding onto it until I was sure it belonged to
Forcing my nerves under control and taking one final breath, I sent a rush of all the magic I had 157/711
left through my veins and shivered under the force of it. And thankfully, finding that when my magic was full force, I didn't actually need to breathe. I grabbed his foot as strongly as I could, my delicate hands seemed miniscule next to his thick calf and steel toed boot. I pushed with everything I had, pushing him thirty feet the opposite direction and finally giving myself plenty of room to breathe.
With a quick intake of breath, I was on my feet and next to him. I raised my left foot and brought it down heavily onto his face, both feeling and hearing his nose shatter underneath the sole of my navy blue clog. Seemingly immune to pain, however, he reached up and grabbed my arm, pulling me down on top of him. I struggled and flailed my appendages but still he wrestled me underneath of him. I let out a scream of frustration, exhausted from the effort and unwilling to lose my life to such a brutal assassin.
"What do you want?" I shouted into his recovered face, fighting to keep his hands away 158/711
from my exposed throat. Sweat poured down my beaten face, despite the icy rain that had begun to descend from the sky.
"I know who you are," he growled menacingly.
I didn't doubt that he did. There was pure hate behind his eyes. My magic was dissipating from my veins in a steady stream into his open palms.
Wherever his skin touched mine, there was a portal to withdraw my life's blood.
"And you think by killing me, what? You think by draining my magic you'll what? You'll have eternal life?" I mocked harshly, downplaying what was probably the truth.
"I know that I will," he replied with frightening certainty.
As I struggled for breath and consciousness under his iron grip, my short life as an Immortal began to flash before my eyes: my confusion, meeting Kiran, Amory's guidance, Avalon, Lilly, the Resistance, my first fight. My first fight. I drained those boys of their magic without touching them once. This man, whoever he was, 159/711
seemed to need physical contact in order to take my magic. I didn't.
I focused what little energy I had left on taking his magic. I concentrated on whatever I could find, pulling magic from remote places I didn't know existed, willing him to give up what was rightfully mine, but it was no use. I was too weak. Whatever advanced skill I used in that first battle had been drained from my blood and the attacker now possessed it.
He was really starting to piss me off.
And then it dawned on me. He could take my magic by touching me, but I was also touching him. I didn't have to take his energy remotely; I could take it back the same way he was.
I sucked in another labored breath and focused this time, not on an idea or concept, but on his actual flesh. I focused on his knees that were digging into my thighs to keep me pinned to the ground. I focused on his hands holding my shoulders tightly to the concrete and I focused on the tips of his boots digging into my ankles.
160/711
Slowly, almost unnoticeably at first, I began to reclaim my magic.
At first our struggle resembled something like tug-of-war. I pulled a little magic back and he re-took the electricity again. I held my breath, not even allowing the effort of breathing to weaken my attempts. I pulled again, holding the small amount of magic in place for a second, and then a second longer and then two seconds longer.
A drop of sweat from his forehead landed on my nose and I realized, finally, that he was weakening. With renewed vigor I pulled another miniscule amount of energy from his veins into mine, holding onto it until I was sure it belonged to
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