Page 35 of Red Queen

Our small group pushes forward with unwavering resolve. We’re not just fighting for our own survival—we’re fighting for the very existence of our kind. And I won’t rest until every last traitor lies at our feet. For the realms, for our very existence, we will not falter.

Nicolai and Marianne brawl like demons themselves, decapitating anything that stands in their path.

The vampire I’m sparring grabs at me with pale and clammy skin, and veins protrude from its temples and neck. Its eyes are dark and sunken, dripping with malice and hunger.

I pierce my blade through its eye socket, and the vampire writhes in agony, its other eye widening in shock and fear. The sword glows with a bright, otherworldly light as it absorbs the vampire’s life force. The creature’s mouth opens in a soundless scream, blood trickling from its lips.

As soon as I turn to help Henry, the glint of metal catches my eye as another vampire plunges his sword into Henry’s chest. Henry’s face contorts in pain, his hand desperately trying to stop the bleeding from his wound.

My heart races with fear and adrenaline as I cover the distance to save my companion. His once bright eyes are now dull and pained as he crumbles to the ground in the red blood pooling around him.

A cold fury settles over me, freezing me to my core.

“Henry!” I roar, my anguish echoing off the very trees themselves.

Another surge of vampires blocks my path, and I charge into the fray, my blade a blur of vengeance, hacking and slashing my way through Catarina’s minions.

Ivan, ever faithful at my side, slices through our foes with grim efficiency, his eyes as cold as the winter wind.

“We... must avenge him, my liege!” Ivan says, his very words dripping with bloodlust.

I grunt. “We’ll bathe their damnable stronghold in their own accursed blood.”

Nicolai and Marianne, their faces a mask of fury, lay waste to anything in their path, their swords whirling in violent arcs.

The tide of the battle shifts. The remaining traitors turn, fleeing like the cowards they are.

A part of me wants to give chase, to hunt them down to their very last breath, but I know it would be foolish. No, we have inflicted enough damage today.

“Henry, my friend.” I sheathe my blade, my hands shaking with the adrenaline still coursing through my undead veins.

“General Amanar, we must retreat,” Ivan says softly, his hand on my shoulder.

I nod, my heart as cold as the snow that crunches beneath my boots.

“We...we have...won this...small battle,” Nicolai pants, sheathing his sword.

We gather our breath, and the echoes of battle slowly fade into the frigid air around us. The fallen lie still, their once fierce presence now reduced to lifeless husks in the aftermath of the skirmish.

“We must regroup. This is but a small victory in the grand scheme of things.” Marianne cuts through the somber silence, scanning the field for any signs of lingering danger.

Nicolai nods, his expression grim as he wipes the blood from his blade. “Aye, the war is far from over. Catarina’s minions will regroup and strike again. We must be prepared.”

Ivan scans the horizon, his keen eyes searching for any movement among the trees. “We should seek shelter for the night. Rest and tend to our wounds before they return with reinforcements.”

I turn my back on the carnage we’ve wrought and walk toward where Henry’s lying.

Snow whispers against my boots as I approach Henry, whose lifeblood tints a crude scarlet stain on his clothes. My heart might be dead to the beat of mortal life, but in this moment, something hollow echoes within its chambers. Ivan, Nicolai, and Marianne form a somber circle around him, their faces etched with a grief that runs deeper than any blade.

“General?” Henry’s voice is a raspy whisper, barely carrying over the frigid breeze. His hand gropes for mine, his grip weakening with each fleeting second.

I look down at Henry, his breaths shallow and labored. “We will not leave you behind, my friend.”

I kneel in the snow, the cold seeping through the layers of my armor, irrelevant against the chill of impending loss. Grasping his hand, I lock eyes with him, searching for words that won’t come, for comfort I cannot give. His pale lips curve into a semblance of a smile, a final act of defiance against the shadow of death that looms.

“Fight on. Defeat Catarina and save the realm, my General...” His breath fogs in the air, then his lifeless eyes stare blindly at the snow-filled sky.

The world narrows to the silence that follows, the absence of a heartbeat that once fought alongside mine. A deep growl rumbles in my throat, raw and primal—a vanquished cry for afallen brother-in-arms. The taste of vengeance is bitter on my tongue.

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