The massive loomed ahead, a jagged maw of rusted steel. Beyond it lay the Precipice, a narrow bridge of glass-slick stone suspended over a mile-deep chasm. Elara gripped the hilt of her shattered sun-sword. It was barely glowing, its celestial energy drained by the Spire's dampening wards, but it was all she had.
Below her, the Iron Spire shrank into a needle of black rock. She looked toward the horizon, where the first light of a true dawn was breaking over the . The Orcs could not follow her into the light. She had done the impossible: she had fled the Final Gate, and for the first time in a decade, she was free. Escape from Orc: Fleeing [Final]
"There! The human vermin!" a guttural roar erupted. , the Orc-Chieftain, stepped into the torchlight. He wasn't truly blind—he saw through the eyes of the carrion crows that circled the tower. He swung a flail made of dragon-bone, shattering a stone pillar near Elara’s head. The Leap of Faith The massive loomed ahead, a jagged maw of rusted steel
For a heartbeat, there was only the cold rush of the wind and the fading snarls of the Orcish horde. Then, the she had hidden beneath her cloak snapped open. The enchanted silk caught the updraft, jerking her skyward. It was barely glowing, its celestial energy drained
The rhythmic drumming of iron boots against the obsidian stone of the echoed like a death knell. Elara didn't look back; she knew the Shadow-Orcs were gaining. The air in the fortress was thick with the smell of sulfur and ancient rot, a sensory reminder of why no one had ever escaped the Orcish Highlands before. The Final Gate
