Page 12 of Twisted Fangs

I glance at her, noting the way her hands shake ever so slightly. "You're doing fine," I assure her. "This is your first real battle. It's normal to feel overwhelmed."

Before she can respond, a sharp cry splits the air. I turn just in time to see another dark elf barreling toward us, his swordraised high. I push Rhea out of the way, my body taking the brunt of the impact as I collide with our attacker.

We go down hard, the ground shaking beneath us as we grapple for control. My vision blurs with the effort, my muscles straining under the weight of my opponent. I can feel the cold kiss of steel as his blade nicks my side, a searing reminder that I'm not invincible.

Rhea's scream pierces the fog of battle, her fear for my safety spurring me into action. With a roar, I summon all my strength and twist the elf's wrist, forcing him to drop his sword. A swift elbow to the face sends him sprawling, unconscious before he hits the ground.

I stagger to my feet, my side throbbing with pain. Rhea rushes to my side, her hands fluttering over the wound as she assesses the damage. "You're hurt," she says, her voice laced with worry.

"I'll be fine," I grunt, waving away her concern. "It's just a scratch."

She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't argue either. "You saved my life," she murmurs, her gaze locked with mine.

I shrug, a nonchalant gesture that belies the turmoil churning inside me. "It's what I do," I say, my voice gruff. But the truth is, I would lay down my life for her without a second thought. And that realization shakes me to my core.

As we continue our further assault on the dark elves, I can't help but notice the protective instincts that surge to the forefront whenever Rhea is in danger. She's more than just a weapon in my quest for vengeance. She's becoming a part of me, her fire and passion breathing life into the cold, desolate wasteland that was once my heart.

The battle rages on, but my thoughts are consumed by the woman fighting at my side. I tell myself it's because she's a valuable asset, a crucial part of my plan for revenge. But deepdown, I know it's more than that. She's not just my tool for revenge. She's... important to me. More important than I care to admit.

As the last of the dark elves retreat, I glance over at Rhea, her face streaked with sweat and blood. She meets my gaze, a fierce smile curving her lips. "We did it," she says, her voice filled with triumph and relief.

9

RHEA

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, a silver sentinel watching over the darkened forest. My heart thrums in my chest. It's a relentless drumbeat echoing the tension coiling in my muscles. Valen is a silent shadow beside me. His presence is a comforting weight in the otherwise oppressive silence. We crouch behind a thicket of trees. Our eyes fixate closely on the winding path that cuts through the woods like an open vein.

A caravan of dark elves soon approaches, their armor gleaming under the moon's glow. They're arrogant, these nobles, parading through the night as if they own the very air we breathe. In a way, they do. But not for long.

Valen's gaze flicks to me, his crimson eyes the only hint of color in the monochrome night. He nods, a silent signal that sets my blood alight with anticipation. I tighten my grip on the dagger he gave me—a slender blade that feels like an extension of my will.

"Remember," Valen whispers, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. "Strike fast, strike true."

I nod. I've trained for this moment, honed my body and mind into weapons of retribution.

The caravan draws closer, the clinking of armor and the soft whinny of horses filling the air. Valen's hand finds mine, squeezing it in a silent show of support. It's a small gesture, but it grounds me, reminds me why we're here.

"On my mark," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the approaching enemy.

I swallow hard, my free hand itching to wipe the sweat from my palms. But I don't dare move, don't dare break the spell of stillness that cloaks us. The dark elves are within striking distance now, their laughter carrying on the wind—a chilling sound that reminds me of all the pain they've inflicted.

Valen's hand releases mine,and he moves with a predator's grace, melting into the shadows. I follow suit, my body reacting on instinct, my training taking over. We flank the caravan, unseen specters ready to strike.

"Now," Valen breathes.

My heartbeat quickens. But Valen's presence is a reassuring constant at my side.

We strike, and the world erupts into chaos. My dagger finds its mark, the blade biting into the dark elf's throat with a sickening ease. His eyes, wide with disbelief, lock onto mine. It's a moment suspended in eternity, a snapshot of shock and suffering that sears itself into my memory. He crumples to the ground, and I'm left standing amidst the carnage. My breath hitches in my throat.

The taste of bile fills my mouth, hot and acrid. I've dreamt of this moment, imagined the sweet release of revenge, but the reality is a bitter pill to swallow. The dark elf's blood, dark as ink, spreads across the forest floor. My hands tremble.

Valen materializes at my side, his touch on my shoulder a grounding force amidst the storm of my emotions. "It getseasier," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that barely penetrates the fog of my shock. "They're the enemy, Rhea. They took your family, your life. This is the price they pay."

I nod mechanically, my gaze still riveted to the lifeless eyes staring back at me. Valen's words should bring comfort, a validation of my actions, but all I feel is a gaping void where my triumph should be. The significance of what I've done settles on my shoulders, a heavy mantle of guilt and regret.

Soon, the sounds of battle gradually fade as Valen moves with deadly precision, cutting down any who dare to resist. It's a brutal display of power.

When Valen'skilled the last dark elf, he comes and crouches beside me, his crimson eyes scanning my face with unsettling intensity. "Rhea," he prompts, his voice now laced with concern. "Talk to me. How do you feel?"

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