Page 55 of Eluvonia
He huffs, and we move forward, sticking to the shadows. I crouch low, the rough bark of the wooden platform digging into my palms as I steady myself. The treetop village reeks of sap and rot, the humid air clinging to my skin like a second layer. Beside me, Declan moves with predator-like precision, his golden eyes scanning each hut as if willing Aeris to appear behind one of the flimsy wooden walls.
“Not here,” he mutters, his voice barely audible.
“Brilliant deduction,” I murmur dryly, shooting him asideways smirk. My hands twist in the air, tugging at the surrounding shadows. The darkness responds eagerly, cloaking us like a living shroud. “Maybe keep your voice down. Your flashy hair is loud enough on its own.”
Declan’s glare could peel bark off a tree, but he keeps his mouth shut.Smart choice.We slip to the next hut, our footsteps silent as a whisper of wind. I lift a hand to stop him mid-step when low voices seep through the thin wooden walls ahead.
I glance at him, then gesture for him to follow as I hunch lower, creeping under the elevated hut. The structure is propped up on thin stilts, creating a shadowy haven beneath it. Perfect. The voices are clearer now, each word dripping with tension.
I crane my neck, tilting my head just enough to peer through the gaps in the floorboards above. Inside, the silver-haired Fae male paces the cramped room, his movements sharp and deliberate. Across from him stands Esra, her golden hair loose and wild around her shoulders.
Even from here, I can feel the frustration radiating off her.
The silver-haired Fae stops pacing and leans against the wood wall of the hut, his gaze fixed on Esra with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “I still don’t understand why you hate her so much,” he says, his voice low, almost questioning.
Esra scoffs, frustration boiling over as she paces in tight circles. “Because she had it easy, Geralt!” she spits, her voice rising with barely-contained rage. “She got to run around, do whatever she wanted! No responsibilities, no consequences. Why? Because her father hated her. She was free to float through life. Meanwhile, I was the one stuck cleaning, scraping by, serving everyone—never more than anafterthought!” She throws her hands out as if to encompass all the years of resentment, her fury growing with each word.
“Even Leynard—the only male of our age in the clan—had a thing for her. FOR HER!” She stops abruptly, shaking with rage, her hands sweeping down over her body in disgust. “Do you see me? How could anyone choose her over me?”
Geralt’s dark laugh interrupts her tirade, his tone amused. He steps toward her, his eyes glinting with something darker than just humor. “I agree,” he says flatly, though there’s no real sympathy in his voice.
Before Esra can protest, Geralt moves in, pulling her close with a firm, almost possessive grip. She squeaks in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden proximity.
His voice drops to a low, cold murmur as he leans in, biting lightly at her ear before pulling back just as quickly. “But that’s in your past,” he says, his voice colder now, calculating. “I saved you from the Dragons when they enslaved you.Ichose you.”
Esra freezes in his grip, the anger in her eyes turning to something sharper, a simmering frustration, but she doesn’t push him away. Instead, she stands there, her jaw tight, her eyes hard. He holds her at arm’s length, his gaze almost predatory now. “But your little revenge plan? It’s changing. She’s staying with the Fae. I need to know how she has magic—elemental magic. Our kind has never had that power. And you, Esra… you need to be patient. She’s a weapon. Don’t let your own anger cloud your judgment.”
Esra’s hands ball into fists at her sides, her breath shallow as she seethes, “I won’t stop until she suffers, Geralt,” she hisses, her voice low and full of venom, as if each word is a promise. “She’ll regret ever thinking she was free of me.”
I duck back down, my breath shallow, my mind racing. So, this is the bastard pulling the strings. The one who set Aeris up, who fed his people half truths to fuel Esra’s petty vendetta. My fingernails dig into the wood, my knuckles white with tension. I don’t know what I feel—rage, disgust, or something darker. But one thing’s clear: I’ve underestimated this Fae.
The thought of Aeris suffering at the hands of these two makes my blood burn hotter than it ever has before.
This will not stand. Not while I’m still breathing.
Declan nudges me, his golden eyes questioning. My lips curl into a grim smile. “Got it all?” I mouth.
He nods once, his expression hard. I motion for him to move, and we slip away, retreating like shadows melting into the night.
As we crouch behind the next hut, Declan leans in close, his voice a low rumble. “We’re running out of time. If she’s alive—”
“She’s alive,” I cut him off, my voice sharp and certain. “Geralt needs her alive, remember?”
He doesn’t argue, but his jaw tightens, his fists clenching so hard his claws dig into his palms. I don’t blame him. Every second we waste feels like a dagger twisting in my gut.
Then we hear it—a muffled cry, faint but unmistakable. My heart seizes, and I meet Declan’s gaze. Without a word, we move, faster now, but still careful, our steps silent as death.
We slip under the next hut, and I peer through the slats above. My breath catches.
Aeris.
She’s bound to a chair, her head hanging low. Blood streaks her face, dripping onto her torn clothes and pooling beneath her. A Fae guard stands over her, his hand raised to strike.
“Talk!” he barks, his voice harsh and commanding. “What do you know about the shadow commander? About the Dragon army?”
Aeris lifts her head, her breaths shallow but steady. Her voice comes out hoarse, raw. “I don’t… know anything.”
The guard’s hand comes down, the slap echoing in the still night. Aeris lets out a pained cry, but when she lifts her head again, defiance burns in her eyes. “Kill me or stop. I have nothing to tell you.”
