Page 27 of Twisted Fangs

The sharp scent of my own blood fills the dank air of the dungeon. The dark elves torture me by peeling strips of skin from my body with a cruel, detached precision as I hang from chains. My vision swims, the torchlight casting long, distorted shadows across the walls.

The pain is a dull roar in my ears, but it's nothing compared to the agony I feel seeing Rhea suffering in front of me. She clutches the dagger they've given her. Her hand trembles profusely.

They've told her I've lied, that her parents are alive and dangling like bait just out of reach. I can see the shock and betrayal in her eyes, and it cuts deeper than any physical wound they've inflicted upon me. In my single-minded pursuit of revenge, I'd been reckless with her heart, assuming the worst when I saw her parents' likenesses among the dead at the dark elf celebration. I'd thought it a mercy to tell her they were gone, to spare her the pain of hope. But I'd been wrong—so wrong.

"Rhea," I manage to say, my voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Look at me."

Her gaze lifts to mine, her hazel eyes swimming with unshed tears, and says, "Valen, they said?—"

"I know what they said," I interrupt, my tone harsher than I intend. I soften it, adding, "But you know me, Rhea. You know who I am."

She swallows hard, the dagger still clutched tightly in her hand. "I thought I did," she murmurs, her voice barely audible.

I grimace, the movement pulling at my ravaged flesh. "I never lied to you intentionally," I tell her, my words carrying the weight of my regret. "I saw what I believed to be your parents, amidst the chaos. I was... careless with your pain. I'm sorry."

Rhea takes a step toward me,her eyes searching mine. "Why should I believe you?" she asks, her voice laced with hesitation. I see doubt cloud her gaze.

Aelith watches us with the satisfaction of a cat toying with its prey. He believes he has orchestrated the perfect tragedy, pitting us against each other in this macabre theatre.

The sting of her doubt cuts through me. Yet, I can understand it. I've lived centuries in the shadow of betrayal, my life irrevocably altered by the dark elves' treachery.

I remember the night my world burned. The night my family died plays before my eyes like a twisted puppet show. I see myself again, young and foolish, choosing to run when the dark elves breached our defenses. My father's voice rings in my head: "Save yourself, son. Live. Make them pay."

I flex my fingers, feeling the phantom weight of my sword from that night. I was a coward back then. I watched from the shadows as they butchered my family. My sisters.

Since that day, I've walked this earth alone, fueled by a singular desire for vengeance that has cost me everything—until I met Rhea.

The truth of it hits me like a physical blow. In all my years of existence, all the battles and blood and death, Rhea is the first person who made me feel something other than the burning need for revenge. She awakened something in me I thought had died with my family—hope.

I let out a slow breath, the heaviness of my past pressing down upon me like the chains that bind my wrists. "Because you are the only thing that matters to me," I confess, my words raw and honest. "You are the only light in the darkness of my existence."

Rhea's gaze turns to her parents as the dark elves drag them out of the room. She then turns back to me. The agony of her impossible choice is etched upon her face, a reflection of the torment I felt when I chose survival over sacrifice all those years ago. I see the conflict within her, the battle between love and duty, between the life she has come to know with me and the family she has long believed lost.

"Rhea,"I say, my voice firm despite the weakness that threatens to consume me. "Whatever you decide, I will accept. I have lived centuries, and if my life is the price for your freedom, for the chance to save your family, then so be it."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, I see a flicker of something deeper, something that transcends the pain and the bloodshed. It is a connection forged in battle, solidified by shared loss and a burning desire for a life unmarred by the dark elves' tyranny.

Rhea steps closer to me, each footfall echoing in the dungeon's oppressive silence. The dagger trembles in her grip. Blood drips down my chest from the torture wounds, but the physical pain pales against the ache in my chest as I watch her approach.

"I trusted you," she whispers, her voice breaking. "With everything I am."

My chains rattle as I shift, drawing myself up despite the agony coursing through my body. "And I trusted you with everything I've become," I say softly.

Her hazel eyes lock with mine, swimming with tears she refuses to let fall. The fire I first saw in her that night in the forest still burns there, but now it's tinged with something else—betrayal, confusion, desperation.

"My parents..." she stammers out. She grips the dagger tighter, her knuckles white against the hilt.

"Kill him now," Aelith calls from behind her, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "End his miserable existence and save your family."

I bare my teeth at him in a savage grin, and say, "Your victory will be short-lived, dark elf. Whether by her hand or another's, you'll meet your end."

Rhea's breath catches. She raises the dagger, its point aimed at my heart. My muscles tense involuntarily.

"Do it,"I tell her softly, my voice for her alone. "If you believe their lies, if you think I betrayed you, then end it. But know this—" I lean forward, letting the blade's tip press against my chest. "Everything we shared was real. Every moment. Every touch. Every promise."

A single tear finally breaks free, trailing down her cheek. She steps closer, close enough that I can smell the salt of her tears mixing with the leather of her armor—the armor I helped her learn how to move in.

"Valen..." she trails off. My name on her lips sounds like a prayer and a curse all at once.

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