Escape From Orc: Fleeing [final] ❲PRO❳

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.

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. Escape from Orc: Fleeing [Final]

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 Below her, the Iron Spire shrank into a needle of black rock

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. She had done the impossible: she had fled

Elara sprinted. Her lungs burned as she reached the edge of the bridge. The wind here was a physical force, howling through the canyon. Korgath was mere feet away, his heavy breathing a wet, raspy sound behind her.