My lungs were screaming. Every breath felt like inhaling liquid glass, searing its way down my throat and into my chest. But I didn't stop. I couldn't.
I was a human torch, a literal wildfire in a silk dress. Or whatever remained of it.
My hands were still wreathed in my unstable, flickering orange mana, and everywhere I brushed against a leaf or a low-hanging branch, it ignited instantly. I wasn't just running; I was leaving a breadcrumb trail of destruction. Great job, Emily, I thought hysterically, if the bandits don't kill you, you're going to start a literal forest fire and win the 'Worst Environmentalist of the Year' award.
My feet, bare and bleeding, slapped against the damp earth. Behind me, the shouting hadn't stopped. It was getting closer.
"Get back here, you little brat!"
