Raelion's POV
Night was the only reason I was still breathing—the only reason I wasn't lying somewhere with a knife buried in my guts.
I ran beneath the black canopy of the forest, my boots slipping on damp roots, my breath burning in my lungs, hot. Just as it's always been since I escaped the guild.
I'd had no time to rest. Even a minute's rest could cost me everything, and by everything, I meant my life. With Valek's claim to the guild, it was the only thing I had left.
The snap of branches and the low chant of spellwork carried too clearly through the dark, behind me.
I grind down on my jaw, fueling the bursts to my speed.
This new batch of hunters was different. They weren't like the previous ones. They were the Amaleks. Hunters who knew how to sniff anything out of the deepest holes on the earth.
They were a little far away, but they made their presence felt. Magic breathed in the forest, so much that I could almost taste it. And it smelled too awfully close to death.
I swore under my breath and veered sharply left, throwing a shard of illusion behind me.
It shattered into a dozen false silhouettes, each sprinting in a different direction.
That should keep the Amaleks busy.
"Persistent bastards," I muttered beneath my breath.
The forest thinned ahead, the ground sloping downward toward the ravine caves. I'd marked them weeks ago on my map.
At some point, I'd have to rest, and there could be no better shelter. It was dark and invisible, a place to disappear before dawn rose and the day morphed into another enemy for me...
A sudden sound cut through the night just then, burrowing through my thoughts.
It wasn't just a sound. It was a scream.
I skidded to a halt, dirt scattering around my boots.
The scream wasn't human. It was too sharp with fear or fury, or both.
While I was still trying place it, it came again—closer this time—followed by harsh voices barking orders in a strange language.
It wasn't Amalekite, nor was it the language of the guild. It was more ghostly, yet melodic.
Who are they?
By impulse, I turned toward the sounds, and then I stopped. Why should I even care? It was not my fight. Minding my damn business was what kept me alive until now.
Another scream came again. This one broke into a wet, choking gasp. Obviously, someone or something was in danger.
I turned away from it, but somehow, I returned to it. Damn it. My kindness was my own enemy.
I needed to find a way to be ruthless, like Valek, or I'll ruin myself soon.
I pivoted toward the sound, and I broke into a silent walk as I neared the voices. I slipped through the shadows of trees until I reached a clearing.
I spotted the five men in dark armor first. They towered on the ground and bore a strange sigil, likely of a kingdom.
Elves. Their pointed ears and the sharp lines of their armor. Yeah. Elves.
I adjusted around the thin trees to get a better view, and then I spotted her.
Smaller, pointed ears also, and delicate curves. Female elf. She has a face like that of a teenager's, and the curves of a woman. Obviously, Elven royalty. An assessment confirmed by her skin, a smooth, shining, pale gold. She looked superbly beautiful, especially with the long silver hair flowing past her small shoulders.
One of the men struck her with the flat of his blade, sending her to her knees.
She didn't beg. She just clutched her stomach, blood trickling between her thin fingers, and she tried to rise again.
She glared at her attackers, chin tilted in defiance.
There. None of my business. She looked quite capable of defending herself.
Against five men, that stupid voice in my head began again.
Yeah. Five. I answered myself beneath my breath. A woman who could take that kind of strike to the face and still stand should be able to handle five males.
I spun around at a louder smack, just to witness a strangled cry from extreme pain wrung from her throat.
The female staggered on her feet, one hand clutching her head, another clutching her face. She wobbled unsteadily, whispering whimpers of pain. The next moment, she was free-falling to the grass,
That tightened my jaw.
"End this," one of the men snarled. "Before the curse worsens. And cut off her head, Queen Briana wants proof."
Cut off her head. That was it. Rage flooded me in the form of adrenaline.
I stepped out of the dark, letting the night feel my wrath.
I flexed my hands, and when the mass of lights bubbled in my palm from my spell, I sent it straight to their torches, killing off the lights.
It was common courtesy to keep a female from seeing blood.
Darkness swallowed the clearing, and I swam fast into their midst, fast like a bullet, and brutal like a hurricane.
One made to grab me, and I slipped past his arm with excellent footwork and the grace of a cat.
A spell produced sabers on both hands, and I made the man a cripple.
A wail of pain thrummed violently in the air around me, jarring my eardrums. Damn. I swung the sabers high, and his head came down cleanly, blood spraying into the night.
That ended the wail, and furious grunts took its place as the others lunged for me.
It should have ended quickly, but it didn't. One of them caught my shoulder, his grip so tight, pain exploded white hot through me. I did my best to wriggle free before they encircled me, and I ended up their nice little prey.
I sharpened the edges of my sabers, and I swept mercilessly through them, cutting cruelly through bones and flesh, until I was left with bleeding and wailing bodies around me.
I pulled out my sabers from the chest of the last man, and a soothing silence rang loud in my ears. I exhaled what could only be relief, my chest heaving.
The sabers dissolved back into nothing, while blood dripped from my knuckles where magic backlash had bitten me.
Then I turned to her.
She was slumped against a fallen log now, one hand pressed to her side. Blood soaked through her pale fingers, dark against a skin too light, the silvery moonlight cascaded over her skin in heavenly waves.
Up close, her elven features were unmistakable. The faint, silvery glow to her skin beneath the moonlight. Her hair—pale as frost—tangled and streaked red.
Her eyes lifted to me. Silver. Wide. Unafraid, carefully assessing me, trying to place if I was an enemy or a friend.
I gave her a smile that said I was neither. I was just a man with a shitty conscience that would someday be the end of me.
"Are they all dead?" she asked hoarsely.
I blinked. "If that also means 'Thank You,' then you're welcome," I said dryly.
She tried to speak, but her strength seemed to leave her all at once. She sagged, breath hitching.
I crossed the distance between us in two strides and caught her before she hit the ground.
She was lighter than she should have been, lighter than the woman I saw standing her ground against five elven giants.
"Stay awake," I ordered, lowering her carefully. I pressed my hand near the wound at her side, already murmuring a diagnostic spell.
I was no healer, but knowing a problem was halfway to solving it, metaphorically.
She hissed in pain, grinding her teeth, her jaw busy.
"Easy," I said. "I won't—"
My words cut off, as her skin beneath my fingers… wavered. Not shimmered. Not blurred, but thinned out, until I was touching nothing instead of skin. Like a smoke stretched too far.
I jerked my hand back, and I watched her form flicker, her edges unraveling into strands of shadow. The moonlight passed through her where flesh should have been.
"What in the nine hells—"
Her gasp turned soundless as her body collapsed inward, dissolving into a dark, shifting silhouette.
Where an injured elf had been moments ago, there was now only a living shadow pressed against the earth, trembling as if in pain.
I reached for her instinctively, and again, my hands passed straight through.
Cold surged up my arm. Just what the hell is she? A shadow elf?
The shadow stirred. Her face was barely visible, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"Don't touch me," she whispered. Her voice sounded distant, as though carried through water. "Please. It hurts when you do."
I froze. I tried not to look panicky or shocked, but it was hard not to.
"Just what are you, female?" I asked quietly.
Her teeth rattle with a low, painful, and bitter laugh. "Cursed," she muttered simply.
Curses. That kind of explains it. Curses were the source of so many absurdities in the world right now. I know. I was speaking from experience.
The moon slipped behind a cloud, and she faded further, almost nothing now but a darker patch of night.
"How long?" I demanded. "How long does it last??"
"Until dawn," she said. "That's if I survive it."
Dawn. That's when my own… I swore under my breath. Even if I could, I couldn't heal her like this. Couldn't even stabilize her properly.
And she was bleeding.
I glanced down at the blood around her, much of which had faded into darkness to match her new form. If she could last the night with that much leaving her, then she was damn lucky.
But she had no choice. Luck was the only thing she had right now.
I glanced at the horizon, where the faintest hint of grey threatened the black. Dawn was still hours away—but it was coming. And with it, my own curse.
Curse that bastard Valek, I growled under my breath, jamming my fist into my palm angrily.