I’m finally able to concentrate enough to float myself up the slope. I hurry back towards the beech tree—to Ella and my Chest—and I hear the cannon’s blast a split second before I’m shot. The pain is double anything I’ve felt before, and all I can see is red and flashes of white. I roll around uncontrollably, writhing in agony.

“Marina!” I hear Ella scream.

I roll onto my back and stare at the sky. Blood drips out of my mouth and nose. I can taste it. I can smell it. A few birds circle overhead. As I wait to die, I watch as the sky is taken over by a colossal group of dark, heavy clouds. The clouds crash and roll on top of each other, pulsing as if they’re breathing. I think I’m hallucinating, seeing visions before I die, when a massive drop of water hits me on the right cheek. I blink as another hits me above my eyes, and then a bolt of lightning splits the sky in two.

A huge Mogadorian in gold-and-black armor stands over me smiling. He presses a cannon against my temple and spits on the ground; but before he pulls the trigger, he looks up at the looming storm. I quickly place my hands on the gaping wound in my abdomen, feeling the icy familiarity surge under my skin. Then the oncoming rain washes over me as the clouds become a solid wall of darkness.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

BY THE LOOK ON SAM’S FACE I CAN TELL HE’S just about lost all faith in getting out of here alive. My own shoulders sag as I stare into the massive white eyes of the beast that’s rising to its feet in front of us. It takes its time, stretching its muscular neck, veins as thick as Roman columns protruding on both sides. The dark skin on its face is dry and cracked like the stone jutting above its head. With its long arms, it has the look of an alien gorilla.

By the time the giant has pushed itself into a full standing position, fifty feet tall, the handle of my dagger has melted itself around my right hand.

“Flank it!” I yell. Sam runs left and I dart right.

Its first move is towards Sam, who immediately turns and runs along the circular edge of the moat. The beast lumbers after him, and that’s when I sprint towards it and slide my dagger right and left, cutting small chunks from its calves. It rears its head and smashes its nose against the ceiling, and then swings a hand down at me, one of its fingers connecting with my back leg. I’m sent spinning into the wall, where I land on my left shoulder, dislocating it.

“John!” Sam yells.