Chapter 35

When Adara found her reason - and what was left of her sanity chose to return - she was perched upon the steeple of a church. Just like a gargoyle, her bare feet curved over the edge, the street yawning far below her.

Somewhere along the way, she'd found clothes. Not very good ones. They lay in tatters upon her body, streaked with blood and other fluids that would have made her shudder if she'd had the energy. What happened after I escaped the necromancer?

Did it matter?

She was alive.

The night's events already seemed like a distant memory - horrifying, yes, but nothing compared to the truth. She remembered too much of that painful, terrifying, humiliating time spent among the demons as their prisoner. It made the necromancer's games seem puny in comparison. She also remembered some parts of her time in the asylum with Dr. Forrester, drug-induced hazes of pain and despair, but it was more than she'd had before.