Page 3 of Condemned to Love

Finally, I see the entrance to the underground tunnels. It's hard to spot, which protected us for so long, but I see the shimmer of magic against the rock. I know it's the portal.

Relief floods me as I stagger inside, darkness swallowing me whole. My wings fold painfully against my back as I navigate the twisting passageways leading deeper into our domain. For solong, it was all any of us knew, and it's disorienting to be back here.

The familiar hum of magic in these tunnels offers a small comfort. Here, we’re stronger—safer. We were made from the magic of the wildspont — pockets of intense magic scattered across Protheka — and we are always better off in them.

Or I thought. Until the dark elves found a portal and our bases.

We thought the wildsponts would hide us, that the dark elves wouldn't sense our magic. For centuries we stayed buried deep in the tunnels after a lost war against the creatures.

But it seems we were foolish. We built above ground bases hidden in the pockets of magic, planning an attack. And this whole time, they knew we were there.

It makes me wonder how many other things I've been wrong about.

2

ELOWEN

"Wait!" I scream. "No!"

My family is right in front of me, bleeding on the floor, and there is nothing I can do to save them. I swipe at them, trying to grab them, to help, to dosomething. But before I can reach them, I'm yanked back.

Gasping, I sit up. "It was just a dream," I whisper to myself as I try to calm my racing heart. My room is dark — though there are no windows so I'm not sure what time it is. Still, it doesn't help keep the images from flashing before my eyes again.

Though the light wouldn't either.

The echoes of the past never leave me. They cling like shadows, whispering in the quiet moments. I remember the smell of the forest after a rain, the way sunlight dappled through leaves, and the laughter of my family. We were happy once, nestled in our small village, far from the reach of dark elves.

My father taught me to hunt. He'd laugh when I missed a shot, but his eyes always held pride. "You'll get it next time," he'd say, ruffling my fiery hair. My mother, with her gentle hands and soft songs, made every day feel like a blessing. My little brother's mischievous grin still haunts my dreams.

But that life shattered in an instant. The dark elves came without warning, their magic lighting up the night with deadly beauty. Screams filled the air as our village burned. I tried to fight back, grabbing a knife from our kitchen. It was useless against their power.

I remember the cruel laughter as they cut down my father. My mother’s pleading eyes as she shielded my brother. They took them all, leaving me alone in a sea of blood and fire.

I was dragged away, bound and gagged, a prize for their twisted games. Days blurred into nights as they transported me to their city, a place of dark grandeur and cold beauty. The chains around my wrists were more than just metal; they were a symbol of my stolen freedom.

Life as a slave was harsh. Every day was a battle for survival, but I refused to break. I learned their ways, watched them with keen eyes, and waited for any chance to escape. The scars on my body are reminders of those years—proof that I survived what should have destroyed me.

I don't remember how long I was chained up and left at their mercy. Time lost meaning. The only thing that kept me going was the memory of my family's faces and the burning desire for revenge.

One night, as the darkness seemed to press in on me from all sides, I heard a commotion outside my cell. The heavy door creaked open, and in walked a figure I’d never seen before. Pale skin, dark eyes, and an air of otherworldly power. A vrakken.

“Come with me if you want to live,” he said, his voice low and commanding.

I didn’t hesitate. I scrambled to my feet, wincing as the chains clinked against the stone floor. He snapped his fingers, and the chains fell away. Magic. The same force that had imprisoned me now offered a chance at freedom.

We moved quickly through the dark corridors of the dark elf stronghold. The vrakken moved with a grace and speed that left me struggling to keep up.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked between gasps for breath.

“No one deserves to be left with these monsters,” he replied curtly. “And I want to give you the chance to get away from them.”

He led me through hidden paths and underground tunnels until we reached a place that felt alive with magic—a wildspont base. It was there I was introduced to Raziel and Selene, a vrakken and his human mate that led the base. The air thrummed with energy, making my skin tingle.

Once there, my struggle wasn’t over. Finding a place among the vrakken proved more challenging than escaping my captors. They were an insular race, driven by apathy rather than malice, but they had little use for someone like me — a human with no magic.

Not to mention, it was startling to learn they only drink blood. It made them more dangerous than the dark elves in my eyes. But I haven't been attacked — yet.

I learned as much as I could about them, initially wary of trusting them. But they are the opposite of the dark elves. The gray-skinned bastards were created to flaunt the vrakken, and while a lengthy war was waged, the vrakken eventually escaped underground, finding it better to have their own place than to war with the dark elves.

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