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Description
Embers and ash floated to the ground like snow, searing his skin on contact, as seventeen-year-old Fiearius Soliveré lay sprawled on his aching back on the floor, his limbs laying at odd angles. Every inch of him felt bruised and beaten. Slowly he blinked his eyes open, letting the ceiling swim into view, wincing as he tried to grasp just exactly how he and Dez had gotten to this point.

He eased slowly to a sitting position, but as soon as he put pressure on his left arm, he let out a yell that no one could hear; sharp pain rocketed through his wrist, straight to his shoulder. Broken bone, probably.

The support beams of the building around him were creaking, ready to give up. And the smoke. It filled his lungs, his throat, his eyes. From what he could tell, Rowland -- their target -- was gone. He’d probably knocked Fiearius out and run off before the whole place collapsed on itself.

Dez was nowhere in sight either. Maybe Dez had gone after him. Maybe he was caught in the fire. Maybe he too was knocked unconscious and left in the thick layer of smoke to choke to death.

Again, Fiearius tried to right himself, but again the roaring pain from his arm was too much. And he was exhausted. That scuffle had taken a lot out of him, as had the lack of oxygen in here. Even if he could sit up, he didn’t know what he’d do. Last he’d seen, the stairwell was blocked by flames. Rowland had made sure of that. It was beginning to seem that the only option he had was to lie here in this crumbling structure and wait for death. He had always assumed he’d die young, but never had he imagined dying before his eighteenth birthday.

Never had he imagined dying like this.

You really should read chapter 25. You really should. Read it, really, do it.

Description
Embers and ash floated to the ground like snow, searing his skin on contact, as seventeen-year-old Fiearius Soliveré lay sprawled on his aching back on the floor, his limbs laying at odd angles. Every inch of him felt bruised and beaten. Slowly he blinked his eyes open, letting the ceiling swim into view, wincing as he tried to grasp just exactly how he and Dez had gotten to this point.

He eased slowly to a sitting position, but as soon as he put pressure on his left arm, he let out a yell that no one could hear; sharp pain rocketed through his wrist, straight to his shoulder. Broken bone, probably.

The support beams of the building around him were creaking, ready to give up. And the smoke. It filled his lungs, his throat, his eyes. From what he could tell, Rowland -- their target -- was gone. He’d probably knocked Fiearius out and run off before the whole place collapsed on itself.

Dez was nowhere in sight either. Maybe Dez had gone after him. Maybe he was caught in the fire. Maybe he too was knocked unconscious and left in the thick layer of smoke to choke to death.

Again, Fiearius tried to right himself, but again the roaring pain from his arm was too much. And he was exhausted. That scuffle had taken a lot out of him, as had the lack of oxygen in here. Even if he could sit up, he didn’t know what he’d do. Last he’d seen, the stairwell was blocked by flames. Rowland had made sure of that. It was beginning to seem that the only option he had was to lie here in this crumbling structure and wait for death. He had always assumed he’d die young, but never had he imagined dying before his eighteenth birthday.

Never had he imagined dying like this.

You really should read chapter 25. You really should. Read it, really, do it.