The sounds of battle came before the figures.
Dull impacts. Choked groans. The crack of branches snapping like bones.The purple mist trembled with every strike, as if the forest itself relished the violence.
Lusian raised a hand.
"Silence."
The humans pressed themselves against twisted trunks; children bit their fists to stifle their cries. The entire forest seemed to hold its breath, watching them.
Thunder tensed, muscles coiling to charge, until Elizabeth—astride him—soothed his fury.Adela's white tiger growled low. Dayana smiled as though already tasting чужую кровь.
Then something burst from the undergrowth.
A young dark elf tumbled forward, slamming into a trunk covered in pulsing fungi. He coughed up dark blood and struggled to rise, swaying.
Behind him, the mist tore open.
Eight… ten… twelve corrupted elves staggered into view, dragging their feet, their eyes pitch black, veins crawling across their skin like dead roots. Their movements were jerky, animalistic.
But they weren't coming only for him.
Three elven women tried to form a circle around two children—a trembling girl and a boy silently sobbing. None of them had weapons. None of them knew how to fight.
The corrupted advanced.
The humans held their breath.Even without sympathy for the elves, the sight of children cornered was too much.
"Stay back!" the young elf rasped, dragging himself away. "They'll kill you! All of you!"
From the left, a corrupted lunged at one of the women.Near the center, another seized the boy by the arm.
Everything was purple. And noise.
The corrupted hand tightened around my sister's arm.I wanted to scream, but no sound came.
Selvryn was fighting. She was strong. She was always strong. But this time… she moved slowly.
Then a human stepped forward, and the mist tightened—as if it feared him.
I wish I could take a step like that.
A third dark elf appeared from behind, driving clawed fingers into the fungus-covered trunk where the young elf tried to hold himself up.
The mist shuddered with every impact. Selvryn blinked to keep her vision steady; blood ran from her forearm down to the slick hilt of her blade.
When the corrupted lifted the girl by the throat, something knotted in her chest. She couldn't let it happen again.
Then she saw him: Lusian. One step forward. Nothing more.
No, she thought. He can't intervene. Not like this.
But the forest roared, her people were falling, and her strength was slipping through her fingers like sand.
"No…" she whispered, choking on her pride. "Don't let them… touch them."
A cry tore through the mist:
"BACK!"
A figure staggered out of the chaos—Selvryn.
Not a hero entering the scene.A leader on the verge of breaking.
Two corrupted clung to her arms, dragging her down as her chipped sword struggled to hold them off. Blood ran from her forearm and from the corner of her mouth. Her breathing came in ragged bursts.
"HOLD THE LINE!" she roared—but her voice cracked.
Keryn and four others appeared behind her, just as exhausted—some carrying infants, others barely able to stand. They weren't soldiers.
They were a fleeing clan.
The forest intervened without choosing a side.
A root snared a corrupted's ankle.Another tried to drag a mother into the earth.Near the humans, the girl screamed as a corrupted lifted her higher, tearing her from the fragile circle.
Lusian frowned.
To the right of the clearing, Elizabeth urged Thunder forward.Beside her, Adela leaned low over her mount.
The thin line between watching and intervening tightened.
As the corrupted drew back its arm to hurl the girl against a rock—
Chaos didn't disturb him.It was information.
Impacts. Distances. Screams. Fluctuations of energy in the purple mist.
He calculated. Ten corrupted. Two children. Three unarmed women. Selvryn—bleeding, unsteady—still holding the line.
When the corrupted lifted the girl, he measured trajectory, speed, angle of impact.
He stepped forward.
The mist reacted.
Selvryn looked at him as if he were another threat.
"Don't let them touch them," she whispered.
At last. A request.An opening.A price to be claimed.
Lusian took a single step.
The mist shuddered.The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Selvryn's face tightened—pride cracked open by fury and fear.
She didn't want to ask.But she needed to.
"No…" she whispered, forcing the words out. "Don't let them… touch them."
Lusian did not strike.
He did not draw his blade.
He simply said:
"Elizabeth."
She moved at once. Thunder reared as he charged into the fray.Adela and her white tiger lunged toward the trapped boy.Dayana bared her fangs, enjoying it far too much.
Lusian raised his hand.
A silent spark fell like a drop of light, deflecting the girl's trajectory, softening the impact before her bones could shatter.
The corrupted turned toward him, roaring.
And then—only then—Lusian spoke.
"I can keep them from dying," he said, his voice calm, not even looking at the elves.
"But not for free."
Selvryn leaned on her sword, gasping. Her golden eyes burned with hatred… and desperation.
"What… do you want?"
"Routes. Safe zones. A place where my people can settle without being devoured by your forest."
Keryn stumbled behind her.The girl sobbed.A corrupted fell dead under Adela's spear.
Selvryn clenched her jaw. She looked around:
The infant wrapped in a filthy cloth.The mother trapped by a root.Her entire clan bleeding out.
And she understood—pride would not save the dead.
"I accept," she spat. "Only until we leave the forest. After that… nothing."
"Perfect," Lusian replied, as if discussing a trivial contract.
And then the battle surged again.
Humans and elves fought side by side,surrounded by purple mist,among roots that attacked and saved without distinction.
Not out of friendship.Not out of trust.
The forest wanted them dead—and every root seemed to remind them.
They needed something stronger than hatred to keep breathing.
Necessity.
For the first time in centuries, two opposing races fought together.A fragile, uneasy agreement, born at the edge of an abyss.
And in the heart of the forest…it was the only way to survive.