Solomon and Declan crashed against a menagerie of jagged rocks as they tumbled down the side of a deep gorge.
Within seconds, they were out of sight of the academy. The rocky walls of their current landscape obscured their vision of safety.
Declan felt a pain so desperate that it caused black spots to dot his vision.
He struggled to look at the spot in his arm where Solomon's horn pierced him. A hole allowed him to see clearly the ground through his bicep.
The rest of his arm wasn't much better. It was badly broken, bruised, and mangled. It was a miracle that it is even still attached.
But Declan had no time to lie around complaining.
Solomon was already getting up. And unlike him, he was absolutely no worse for wear.
His armor, his damned unsettling armor, had developed eyes. They stared at Declan unblinkingly, sending a brutal chill down his spine.
