Page 50 of The Dark Elf's Secret Twins

The mere mention of my scar is enough to ignite within my head the bloody memory of the day I got it. But this is it. I have to prove to her – and myself – that I am not going to keep shutting her out.

I take a deep breath and begin speaking, keeping my back turned to Cyra.

“It was all laid out so well,” I say reflectively. “The mission was to encircle and capture an orc encampment on the continent of Tlouz.”

Cyra shifts on the bed behind me and crawls up. She envelopes me in her arms and rests her chin on my shoulder, planting a reassuring kiss on my cheek. Internally, I feel a small surge of comfort. I need as much as I can get as I recall the painful memory.

“I was leading my fifteen man squad through a valley. For us, it was just going to be another day. We never once failed a mission you see, and we were always running on good reconnaissance. One could say I had a good reputation as a leader.”

I pause for a few moments, momentarily focusing on the comfort of Cyra’s touch. In it, I find the serenity I need to counteract the trauma of that one fateful day.

“We saw the orc encampment from the hills, prime as ever to attack. Usually, I would have made the call to scope the place out some more, but as squad leader I had grown overconfident in myself. Little did I know it would spell certain doom for the rest of my men.”

“What happened?” whispers Cyra, rubbing my chest in circles.

“The men… they looked to me for guidance, you know? I was their mentor, their protector, they followed my command without question. That’s how much they trusted me. I should never have taken their lives for granted…”

At that moment, an internal urge arises for me to shut my mouth, to shove the memory back into the deep crevices of my mind. Cyra then plants another kiss on my cheek, pulling me away from my anguish just enough for me to continue.

“The position we had was perfect for an ambush, but I made the call to lead a full frontal attack. We breached the gate no problem but…”

I stumble over my words with difficulty but a gentle reassurance from Cyra gets me back on track.

“That’s when it all went to shambles. The encampment was empty but we realized it far too late. By the time I made the order to pull back, the enemy orcs were already spilling in from the only exit point.”

I feel Cyra’s hand tighten around my chest.

“They had us right where they wanted, completely surrounded in enemy territory. Surrender is never the way of a dark elf so the only option we had was to fight our way out. The battle was long and intense in our efforts to make the escape.”

“How many of you made it out?” asks Cyra.

I turn to her, looking into her eyes with intensity.

“You’re looking at the only survivor.”

She gasps in shock.

“Lykan… I’m so sorry.”

“This scar that you see on my back, I got that trying to save all of my men. The orcs outnumbered us two to one, so inevitably some of my soldiers fell victim to their brutal tactics. I watched them take my youngest man and rip him apart limb from limb.”

I want to stop again, pausing for a moment. Cyra gently shakes me, grabbing my attention.

“You don’t have to say any more if it’s too much.”

“No,” I reply. “I should tell it all to you. As much as it pains me to do so, I cannot keep it hidden from you the reason why I’m the way I am.”

She takes my hand and squeezes it.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she whispers.

“I thought I could have gotten at least some of us out there but within two minutes it was down to me and one man. As we sprinted for the exit, I felt a world of pain ignite across my back. I fell and hit the ground, which I thought was going to be my death bed.”

“How did you get out of there?”

“My only remaining man turned around when he should’ve just kept going. He fought off the two orcs who cut me down, and hurled me toward the exit. Somehow I found the strength to keep running, despite the amount of blood pouring from me. I opened the gates and turned around in time to see what must have been five orcs bringing down their axes and warhammers on him.”

“Fuck,” mutters Cyra.

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