No Chains for Me

Seraphine moved first.

She drove the edge of a candleholder into the figure's side, using their surprise to twist free. The manuscript pressed against her chest—she couldn't lose it.

The figure staggered but recovered quickly, lunging for her. She ducked, spinning behind a toppled bookshelf. A dagger gleamed in their hand now, deadly and deliberate.

"You're making this difficult," they murmured.

"Good," she shot back.

She feinted left, then went right, knocking over a stack of scrolls to block their path. The exit was just ahead.

But the figure was fast. Too fast.

Seraphine barely avoided the next strike, the dagger slicing through the fabric of her sleeve.

She had no choice.

Summoning every ounce of strength, she slammed into them, sending them crashing into a desk. The manuscript slipped from her grasp—but she didn't stop. She seized a bronze candlestick and struck.

One blow.

Then another.

The figure slumped, dazed but alive.

Seraphine grabbed the manuscript and ran.

To be continued…

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