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Chapter 49-Cold Mountain Final Battle
“How lovely, such stupid mortal.
Even as they fought, swiveled in the snow, sprang, fled, and rolled at tremendous speed, with her launch she wasn't tiring, yet she felt something inside her surge. It was a vigor that scorched through resentment and anguish, something that took over the rage, the threat of logic and reason. She was powerful. She was the daughter of the fire, that reason implied.
She was injured, losing strength, she could feel the pain twinge, she knew dimly that she was losing blood and lots of it, enough that she should be close to incapacitated, her courage and strength rush again, she never felt this way before, but she was also never this close to death either.
Catherine allowed herself to go wild, let the fire consumed her heart, and wash over the last willful part of her spirit that still battled for intention and restraint. With the predator unleashed, Catherine ripped into the creatures as if they were just like a piece of meat,
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Catherine felt nothing, yet she did not flinch as she took him apart. She did not feel his potent shadows; she did not even wince; She became animalistic, her eyes were blazing and finally, she summons her fire from the dept of her soul, she engulfed him until he was nothing but ashes. She was untouchable, like an island of the lantern in a murky sea of turmoil, and she thanked her good achievement that, out of all the people who wanted him dead, she was the one to finally bring him to his knees. Furthermore, she heard a whisper, “Catherine, please come back, please come back to me. He's dead, he won't hurt us again, come on love, fight it, battle for us, fight for our future.” Something caught to her mind, something comforting voice that ripped through the twilight mist in her mind, it brought her back from the edge of darkness. Everyone she had move again, yet no one moved. She held the strength so powerful that no one dared approach her. Even the birds in the trees and essence
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The half-moon hung flat on a wintry night in the Cold Mountains. Giving no hint of the bloodshed to come. But in this icy, barren territory, I felt it wash over my skin, the brisk wintry blast, simply to be greeted by the rhythm of my heart, repeatedly and again. However, everyone froze as he drew his sword. Its sharpness would injure the air apart from him. Pressing down with his power and superior strength, he dragged the blade backward towards her face. When she least expects it, he knocks the blade from her grasp until it lands just unreachable. He steered his elbow into her face, almost knocking her unconscious. He gets to his feet, standing over her. The tilt of the sword is pointed towards her heart in both hands-on grips. He plunges the sword into her rib cage. She gasped for air. The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard signaled her end. Something about his eyes captured m
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She saw a coin, an ancient-looking hand covered in dirt, the engravings worn and the head so stained from time. She held it in her left hand, staring at the mud that was dirtying her skin. Flipping it over and over. so close to her face that the coin had the aroma of musty blood and rustiness. She turned to her right palm and in the midst of the seizing was a new cloverleaf, fresh and beautiful. And as far as Catherine could remember, according to Irish tradition, those who found a four-leaf growth were destined for good luck, as each petal in the clover symbolizes good omens for faith, hope, love, and luck for the finder. A perfect sphere of clique dew crowned the leaf, reflecting a picture of Catherine's face: grated and peaceful, yet the sadness was recognizable. When she flipped back the coin, the form of the mysterious man had freed himself and journeyed over to the cloverleaf, stirring the growth of a powerful root and even blurrin
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Time Beyond A Dream Chapter 7-Land of Nod Cold Mountain
London Catherine woke up and howled in genuine misery, seeing her bitten mark with fiery veins encircling her arm. Her body was glowing from the inside out. She was frightened. For hours, she lay there alone, crying, and, worst of all, burning. The morning sun shines through the tiny window, adding light to her hell, and the burn was unbearable, as she had been there all night and no one had heard her screams for help.A sense of grief washed over her at the moment. She was going to die here unattended. Every minute her heart beat slower, and every second her slow death was near. The distress and burning hadn't ceased, but after being in agony for hours upon hours, her mind was no longer her own. The hardest part was that the burn took her to the verge of consciousness but never let her fall over into oblivion. She could still feel her body, yet she couldn't move it. So, she lay gazing at the window, awaiting death.
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