Branches whipped across my face as Leyina and I sprinted through the dense forest, our breaths ragged in the thick air.
The elves were closing in— I could hear their boots pounding the earth behind us, relentless and precise.
Leading the pack was that towering brute of an elf with his broad shoulders and gleaming sword,
Elandor, they called him.
And his little sister Lirael right on his heels, her staff glowing with that cursed magic.
We'd been running for what felt like ages, ever since they ambushed us at the river crossing.
My arm throbbed from an earlier slash, but I ignored it, focusing on Leyina's hand clutched in mine.
"Noah, they're catching up!" Leyina gasped, her eyes wide with panic.
She squeezed my hand tighter, her skin flushed from the exertion.
Even in this chaos, she looked at me like I was her whole world.
A sharp crackle split the air.
I twisted my head just in time to see Lirael thrust her staff forward, a bolt of azure magic hurtling straight toward Leyina's back.
No time to think— I yanked her aside and threw myself in front of her, raising my arm as a shield.
The magic bullet slammed into my flesh like a hammer forged in lightning, searing through muscle and bone.
Pain exploded up my arm, hot and blinding, blood spraying in an arc as I staggered but didn't fall.
"Noah!" Leyina's scream pierced the night, raw with terror.
She spun toward me, her hands hovering over the wound, eyes brimming with tears.
"You're hurt— oh gods, why did you—"
"Keep running!"
I snarled through gritted teeth, shoving her forward with my other arm.
The wound pulsed, dark blood soaking my sleeve, but I couldn't let them take her.
Not my Leyina, the one who held me through nightmares, who whispered promises of forever while tracing my skin with her fingers.
"Go! I'll hold them off!"
She hesitated, her face crumpling, but the elves' shouts grew louder.
With a choked sob, she bolted ahead, her lithe form weaving through the underbrush.
I followed, every step jarring the injury, but the forest narrowed, trees pressing in like a trap.
We burst into a clearing—a sheer rock wall loomed ahead, a dead end that mocked our desperation.
Vines choked the stone, but there was no way up, no escape.
"Shit,"
I muttered, scanning the shadows. The elves' voices closer now, their pursuit unyielding.
Leyina skidded to a halt beside me, panting, her white hair plastered to her sweat-slicked skin.
"Noah, what do we do now?" Her voice trembled, but she pressed close, her body warm against mine even now.
I grabbed her shoulders, meeting those golden eyes.
"Hide. Use your stealth magic—now. Cloak yourself and prepare that massive explosion spell. The one that levels everything in range. Wait for my signal, then unleash it when they're bunched up. Got it?"
Her horns seemed to gleam as she nodded fiercely, though worry etched deep lines on her face.
"Be careful, Noah. Come back to me." She leaned in, pressing a quick, desperate kiss to my lips—soft, tasting of salt and fear—before murmuring the incantation.
Her form shimmered, fading into invisibility like mist dissolving in wind.
I didn't wait to see her vanish completely.
Turning on my heel, I sprinted in the opposite direction, crashing through bushes and low branches to make noise.
"Hey, you pointy-eared bastards! Over here!"
My voice boomed, drawing their attention like a lure. Footsteps thundered after me, Elandor's deep blow cutting through the dense forest.
The forest blurred as I ran, my lungs burning, the wound in my arm a constant fire.
But worse was the thirst—gods, the thirst.
It clawed at my throat, dry and insatiable, building like a storm in my veins.
Ever since that curse took hold after the crash, it hit like this during fights, a hunger so primal it made my teeth ache, my fingers itch to tear into flesh.
I wanted to rip someone apart, to sink my fangs into warm skin and drink deep. The thought made my mouth water, even as I dodged roots and leaped over fallen logs.
A glint of steel flashed in front of my eyes.
I twisted mid-stride, but it was too late—Elandor's sword descended in a blinding arc, whistling through the air toward my neck.
Instinct surged.
I poured my energy into a flicker-step, vanishing from sight in a puff of shadow essence.
The blade cleaved empty air, embedding in the dirt with a thud.
I reappeared behind him, the big elf's back a wall of muscle and leather armor.
Without pause, I drove my boot into the side of his head, channeling force through my leg.
The impact reverberated up my spine, a shockwave rippling the leaves around us—but his head didn't budge.
Not an inch. He was like striking ironwood, unyielding.
"Fuck," I hissed, landing lightly and backing away.
Elandor whirled, his emerald eyes narrowing, sword ripping free from the ground.
The other elves fanned out, encircling me—four of them, lithe and deadly, bows nocked and blades drawn.
Lirael stepped forward, her staff humming with power, her silver hair tied back in a warrior's braid.
She was smaller than her brother, but her gaze burned with the same fanatic eyes.
My vision swam, edges blurring as the thirst intensified, mixing with the poison from the magic bullet.
Blood loss, maybe, or the curse feeding on my weakness.
The world tilted, trees leaning in like accusatory fingers.
They closed the net, Elandor at the forefront, his presence a looming threat.
Lirael raised her staff, the tip glowing faintly.
"Any last words, demon spawn? Before we end this abomination?"
One of the archers spat, his voice laced with venom.
"No mercy. Kill him quick—before the prophecy twists fate against us."
Elandor grunted agreement, hefting his sword.
"The lady warned of this boy. End it fast, Lirael."
I bared my teeth, fangs elongating involuntarily as the thirst peaked, a red haze clouding my sight.
My body screamed for release, for blood to quench the fire.
They advanced, weapons poised—
Then, chaos erupted from behind them. Leyina's stealth shattered in a burst of demonic energy, her form materializing like a vengeful specter.
"Get away from him!"
she roared, golden eyes blazing, hands weaving threads of explosive magic that crackled in the air.
The elves spun toward her, shock rippling through their ranks. Elandor barked orders, lunging at her—
It was my moment. Vision tunneling, I exploded forward in a blur, seizing Lirael by the waist.
She gasped, staff clattering as I yanked her off her feet, her body light and fragile against my grip.
Her scent hit me—sweat, magic, and the pulse of life beneath her skin.
The thirst overwhelmed everything; I wrenched her head to the side, exposing the pale column of her neck.
My fangs sank in mercilessly, piercing flesh with a wet tear.
Hot blood flooded my mouth, coppery and vital, surging down my throat like liquid fire.
She screamed, thrashing wildly, her nails raking my arms, but I held fast, drinking deep as the world sharpened around me.
The thirst ebbed, power flooding my veins, her struggles fueling the savage rhythm of my pulls.
Elandor's roar shook the trees, but it was too late—her life essence poured into me, raw and intoxicating.