Where the Blood Lies

Previously

…His eyes widened in fury. “No!” he roared, lunging towards the opening. It was the distraction I needed. I scrambled away, my legs pumping, my lungs burning. I didn’t look back. I ran, the sound of his enraged roar fading behind me, swallowed by the mournful sigh of the river and the endless, indifferent hum of the city. The journal was lost, but the knowledge it contained, the truth it had revealed, was etched into my mind, a permanent scar, a guiding light in the encroaching darkness. The Weaver’s game had reached its climax, but my fight, I knew, was far from over. I had lost a piece of my past, but I had found the strength to face my future.