Outside the tavern, the morning sun casts long shadows across Mira's modest herb garden. Lena hums softly to herself as she kneels among the fragrant plants, her basket already half-filled with sprigs of feverfew and bundles of dried nettle. The young woman's fingers move with practiced efficiency, selecting only the healthiest specimens for the travelers' journey ahead.
She reaches for a sprig of nightshade, its purple flowers nodding in the gentle breeze, when something causes the hair on the back of her neck to rise. The birdsong that had accompanied her work suddenly ceases. The air grows unnaturally still.
Lena pauses, her hand hovering above the herbs. Something is wrong. The shadow stretching across the garden is too tall, too still to be cast by the swaying trees. And it's growing longer by the second.
Slowly, she turns her head, eyes widening as they meet the gaze of a figure cloaked in darkness. The morning light seems to bend around it, as if reluctant to touch its form. Beneath the hood, a smile spreads—too wide, too sharp to be human.
"Such a lovely garden," the figure purrs. "Tell me, Lena is it..."
The figure's voice is like honey poured over broken glass—sweet on the surface but with an edge that cuts deep. As she kneels beside Lena, the morning light finally catches her features, revealing a woman of unsettling beauty. Her skin is alabaster pale, her hair as black as a moonless night, falling in perfect waves past her shoulders. But it's her eyes that freeze Lena in place—amber irises with vertical pupils, like those of a predatory cat, seeming to glow with their own inner light.
Lena's basket slips from her trembling fingers, herbs scattering across the ground. Her mouth opens, but no sound emerges.
"Oh, don't be frightened," the woman continued, reaching out with long, elegant fingers to touch a nearby rosemary plant. The herb withers instantly at her touch, curling in on itself as if decades of decay had been compressed into seconds. "I'm simply passing through. Looking for some... old friends."
She plucks a nightshade flower, twirling it between her fingers as she studies Lena's face. Unlike the rosemary, the poisonous plant seems to flourish in her grasp, its purple hue deepening to an almost unnatural violet, the petals unfurling further as if reaching toward her.
"I'm looking for three travelers," she continued conversationally, as if they were merely two acquaintances discussing the weather. "A young human man—quite handsome, I'm told—and two Elven women. Sisters. One light, one dark." Her smile widens, revealing her sharp teeth once again. "I believe they might be guests of this establishment."
Lena swallows hard, finding her voice at last, though it emerges as little more than a whisper. "I—I don't know who you're talking about."
The woman tilts her head, studying Lena with those unnerving amber eyes. She reaches out suddenly, her icy fingers brushing against Lena's cheek in a gesture that might almost be tender if not for the way the young woman's skin blanches at the contact.
"Now, now," she chides softly. "Let's not begin our acquaintance with lies. It makes things... messy.
Meanwhile, inside the tavern, unaware of the danger lurking in the garden, Oreon, Celestia, and Sylvanie gather around a worn map that Mira has spread across the table. The tavern keeper's weathered finger traces a winding path across territories that have become increasingly hostile to their kind.
"The Northern Route through Aldermere is heavily patrolled," Mira explains, her voice low and urgent. "The Order established a new garrison there just last spring. You'll need to skirt around it, through these foothills." She shows a narrow passage between two mountain ranges.
Celestia leans forward, her sapphire eyes studying the map intently, committing every detail to memory. Her pale blonde hair falls like a curtain of silk as she points to a dense patch of forest.
"The Mistwoods," she murmurs. "My people spoke of strange magics there, even before the Blighting. Creatures that were ancient when elves were young."
"Perfect," Sylvanie interjects, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though her eyes gleam with interest. "This journey just keeps improving, doesn't it?" As she stared at the map on the table. "First, The Holy Order, The Dragonspine Mountains, and now you want us to wrestle with ancient beings." She huffed. "A mighty busy list we're racking up here don't you think?" She casually glanced at her sister.
"We'll only fight if we have to Sylvanie, besides; the Ancient beasts are more docile. We should be fine in that area so long as we don't appear as a threat." She ended.
Oreon stroked his chin thoughtfully, lost in contemplation. "We're going to need to stop, though. The provisions that you've given us, Mira, is only going to last for a couple of days at most. We may have to make a stop in Aldermere. Although, it's one of the order's strongholds, if we can take it down, that may work to our advantage later, plus become a base if we need to get back to town." Oreon brought up.
Mira's expression grows grave as she considers Oreon's words. The lines around her eyes deepen with concern. "Aldermere isn't just any stronghold," she says quietly. "It's become the Order's northern command center. The garrison there houses over three hundred of their elite warriors, not counting the regular militia and those blessed with divine powers." She shakes her head slowly. "Three travelers, even ones as capable as yourselves—could not hoped to take it down."
Celestia's delicate brow furrows as she studies the map more closely.
Perhaps we don't need to confront them directly," she suggests, her melodious voice thoughtful. "If we disguise ourselves, we might be able to enter the town, acquire what we need, and leave without drawing attention.
Sylvanie lets out a short, harsh laugh.
"Disguise ourselves? Have you forgotten what we are, sister?" She gestures to her crimson eyes and pointed ears. "I don't think there's a way to hide my eyes and our ears are a dead give away. The City of Aldermere wouldn't hesitate to turn in an elf the second they see one. Besides, the Order is looking for us. Our faces are probably on posters plastered on a stone wall by now."
Oreon's expression remains determined as he traces an alternate route with his finger.
"Besides, the three paladins we left behind are still hunting us as well. I bet gold that one of them will be stationed there." Oreon pondered, "The axe-wielder or the crimson-caped swordsman with the flaming blade? Either way, we'll need a respite soon. Aldermere is a town we can't avoid, at least not completely." He looks over at Celestia. "If we can disguise ourselves and lie low enough to restock and rest, then that's what we're going to have to do. His eyes fall back down to the map. "Mira, are there any smaller towns that we cross before we hit Aldermere? The Order's influence is absolute in this region, so I know there's no town that isn't somewhat influenced by them, but still a small town could work in our favor as well."
Mira looked down at the map, before her fingers started tracing a path on the map. The winding roads and paths that connect the scattered settlements of the northern territories. Her expression brightens slightly as she indicates a tiny marking just east of their planned route.
"Willowbrook," she says. "It's little more than a village—a few dozen families, farmers mostly. They have a small inn for travelers and a modest market." Her voice drops lower. "The Order maintained a presence there, but it's minimal—just a tax collector who visits once a month and perhaps two or three soldiers stationed permanently."
Celestia studies the location, her blue eyes calculating distances. "How far from our path would this detour take us?" She asked softly.
"A day, perhaps a day and a half," Mira replies. "The road is poor, especially after the spring rains, but passable."
Sylvanie leans against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, her crimson eyes narrowed in thought
"A small village means fewer eyes, but also fewer places to hide if we're recognized," she points out. "And small communities talk. News travels."
Oreon nods, considering all angles. "True," he acknowledges, meeting Sylvanie's gaze. "But small villages also tend to be more concerned with their own affairs than with the grand politics of the Order. If we're careful and don't draw attention to ourselves, we might pass through unnoticed."
He turns to Mira, his expression serious. "What can you tell us about the people of Willowbrook? How likely are they to turn someone in that doesn't belong there?"
Mira's battered face softens slightly. "They're good folk, mostly. Hardworking. The war and the Blighting hit them hard. They lost sons and daughters to both. They keep their heads down and focus on surviving." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "The Order promises protection, and in these dangerous times, that means something. But I wouldn't say they're zealots."
"Why not take the southern roads through the old forest and bypass the towns?" Lena's voice, a warm alto, drifted from the kitchen as she stepped out, slightly catching the group off guard.
"The old forest?" Oreon repeats, unsure and confused. "The one that allows people to enter, but never allows them to leave?"
Mira's head snaps up at Lena's suggestion, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and alarm. The young woman stands in the doorway to the kitchen, her basket of herbs clutched tightly against her chest. Something about her demeanor seems... different.
"Lena," Mira said carefully, her voice measured, "You know better than to speak of the Old Forest. No one has successfully traversed those woods in generations."
With a growing sense of worry, Celestia's sapphire eyes narrowed as she studied the young woman. Quickly glancing at Sylvanie, she sees her straighten from her relaxed pose.
"The tales say the trees themselves move," Celestia said softly, her gaze never leaving Lena's face.
"That the paths shift and change, leading travelers in circles until they succumb to hunger or thirst... or to things that hunt in the shadows."
Lena smiled—a smile that seems just slightly too wide, too knowing.
"Tales," she said dismissively, stepping further into the room. Her movements are fluid yet somehow wrong, as if her limbs are being guided by unfamiliar hands. "Superstitions meant to keep the common folk in line. The Order spreads such stories to ensure people stay on their approved roads, under their watchful eyes."
Oreon narrowed his gaze slightly. "Even if that is true. If the Order is false claiming tales, then that just means that the forest could also be a trap for us." He finished as he crossed his arms. "I'm not willing to bet our lives on a whim." He slightly tilted his head at Lena.
"And why," Sylvanie pushes herself away from the wall, her eyes fixed on Lena, her voice deceptively casual, "Would you suggest such a route, little one? Especially when your mom clearly thinks it unwise?"
Lena blinks rapidly, as if momentarily confused by the question. "I just thought...It might be safer from the Order," She said, her voice oddly flat. "They don't patrol there."
Oreon exchanges a quick glance with Celestia, a silent communication passing between them. He shifts his position subtly, placing himself between Lena and the door to the kitchen.
"That's thoughtful of you," he said carefully. "But I think we'll stick to Mira's plan and go to Willowbrook. The known dangers seem preferable to unknown ones."
Mira steps closer to her daughter, concern etched deeply in her features. She reaches out to touch Lena's forehead. "Are you feeling well, dear? You look pale." Mira reached out placing a gentle hand on her forehead, which caused Lena's smile to quickly transform into a sinister smirk.
"And thus, the Keeper falls." Lena speaks, but not in her own voice as Mira felt something sharp penetrate her, causing her to look down in shock to see a sharp knife in her stomach, before Lena pulled it out, her eyes changing color to a bright crimson as Mira stumbled backwards.
"MIRA!" Oreon screams as he quickly lung forward catching the stumbling Mira as he placed his hand over the wound, turning his attention to Lena as she slowly begins to transform into the woman that approached Lena in the garden prior, her eyes quickly turning to the elves as if she was familiar with them.
"Long time, no see Celestia, especially you Sylvanie;" She licked her lips.
Celestia quickly rushes towards Oreon and Mira, as she began to use her healing magic as Oreon quickly gives Mira to her and stands in front of them, quickly unsheathing his twinned daggers.
The air in the tavern grows heavy, charged with malevolence as "Lena" transforms. The illusion melts away like wax under flame, revealing the true form of another female Dark Elf—tall and elegant, with that alabaster skin and those predatory crimson eyes. Her black hair seems to absorb the light around her, and her smile is as sharp as the bloodied knife in her hand.
Sylvanie's reaction is immediate and visceral. Her crimson eyes widened in shock before narrowing to dangerous slits, her body coiling like a spring ready to release. Dark energy crackles at her fingertips, shadows gathering around her hands.
"Desirae," she hissed, the name itself seeming to taste like poison on her tongue. "I thought you'd be rotting in whatever pit the Order threw you in after your betrayal."
A slight laugh escapes Desirae's lips. "Well, unfortunately for you former princess. The Holy Order values the uses of...Special talent." She licked her lips as she eyed her quarry.
With Oreon standing guard, Celestia's golden-lit hands gently tend to Mira's injury. The tavern keeper's face is ashen, her breathing shallow, but the bleeding begins to slow under Celestia's healing touch.
"Stay with us, Mira," Celestia whispers urgently, her voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them. "Focus on my voice. Your daughter needs you to be strong."
A laugh like shattering glass escapes Desirae as she nonchalantly wipes Mira's blood from her blade.
"Oh, how touching," she mocks, her gaze sliding from Sylvanie to Celestia. "The royal sisters, reduced to healing tavern wenches and running from the very humans they once thought beneath them." Her crimson eyes gleam with cruel amusement. "How the mighty have fallen."
Oreon's stance is perfectly balanced, his twin dragon daggers catching the light as he faces Desirae. His expression is cold, calculating. "Where's Lena?" He demands.
Desirae's smile widens, revealing those too-sharp teeth. "The girl? Still in the garden, I believe. Sleeping. For now." She tilts her head, studying Oreon with newfound interest. "So, you're the human who's the center of attention. The one that broke into their father's domain. Freed both sisters and managed to escape alive." She smiled darkly. "My, I must admit, you're meeting all my expectations...So far,"
She takes a step forward. "The Order has place quite the bounty on your heads. Especially yours, son of the purifier. They say you stole something precious from them." Her eyes flick to his pocket where the dragon shard is hidden. "Something they want back very badly."
Sylvanie's magic intensifies, shadows coiling around her arms like serpents read to strike. "How did you find us?" She gritted her teeth, her voice tight.
Desirae laughs again, tracing a pattern in the air with her knife.
"Oh, darling Sylvanie, always so direct. No pleasantries, no catching up with old friends?" She sighed dramatically. "If you must know, I've been tracking you ever since I got word that you turned up in this backwater of a town. You'd be surprised how much information one could get by staying hidden. Besides, the Order's dogs may be zealots, but they pay well for results. And I do so love results.
Behind Oreon, Celestia's healing magic continues to flow into Mira, the golden light pulsing steadily. The tavern keeper's color beings to return, her breathing growing stronger.
"You were never our friend," Celestia says quietly, her voice carrying a weight of sorrow and betrayal that fills the room. "You were one our father's advisor, trusted with the secrets of our kingdom. And you sold those secrets to the Order for gold."
Desirae's smile never wavers, but her eyes harden to crimson stones.
"For power, former queen. Not gold." She gestures dismissively. "Gold is for peasants, something to give meaning to their meaningless wealth. Me? I wanted what your father promised me but never delivered. A seat at the table of immortals."
Oreon shifts his stance. "You'll find no power or immortality here," he growled. "Only justice for what you've done."
"Justice? from a thief, a fallen princess with a short reign as a queen? and her low-class sister who still pretends that she's part of royalty?" She shakes her head in mock disappointment. "How far the mighty have truly fallen."
With a sudden flick of her wrist, Desirae sends the knife flying, not at Oreon or the sisters, but at the wounded Mira.
"Oh no you don't!" Oreon roared, the sound echoing through the cavern as he deflected the knife with a sharp clang, his muscles tense as he returned to his fighting stance. "If you want to take out Mira, you'll have to go through me."
The dagger clatters against the wall, Oreon's lightning-fast reflexes having saved Mira from a second attack. Desirae's expression shifts from amusement to something colder, more calculating as she assesses the human warrior before her.
"Impressive," she purred, though her eyes have lost their playful gleam. "The rumors of your skills weren't exaggerated after all, but then again. All you did was a block a knife."
Without warning, she lunges forward with inhuman speed, drawing a second blade from within her sleeve—this one a short-sword, physically corrupted, and etched with runes that pulse with sickly green light. The surrounding air seems to warp and distort.
Sylvanie moves in perfect synchronization, shadows coalescing around her hands as she throws herself into Desirae's path.
"Oreon, get Celestia and Mira out!" She shouted, her crimson eyes blazing as she meets Desirae's attack with the stolen sword she unsheathed.
The two women clash in a blur of motion, blades of shadow and steel striking against each other with sounds like thunder. Furniture splinters as they crash through tables, neither willing to give ground.
"You always were the better fighter," Desirae hissed through clenched teeth as their blades lock together, her face inches from Sylvanie's. "But I've learned new tricks since our last encounter."
With a twist of her wrist, the runes on Desirae's blade flare brighter, and Sylvanie staggers back, her arm suddenly numb where the weapons connected. Desirae presses her advantage, her movements fluid and rapacious.
Behind them, Celestia has managed to stabilize Mira, the wound now partially closed though still serious.
"We need to move her," Celestia says urgently to Oreon, her hands still glowing with healing light. "And find Lena—the real Lena."
Oreon nods, his eyes never leaving the deadly dance between Sylvanie and Desirae. He sheathed one dagger to help lift Mira.
"Can you walk?" *He asked Mira, his voice tense with urgency. Before she can answer, Desirae breaks away from Sylvanie, leaping onto a table and then launching herself directly at Oreon and Celestia.
"Shit..." With a roar of frustration, Oreon lunged at Desirae, their blades meeting in a shower of sparks, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and sweat as he desperately tried to keep pace with her impossible speed. His breath hitched, "What...the...hell are you?" The air crackled with energy as his blade deflected each blow, buying Celestia precious moments to get Mira to the relative safety as she walked her off to the room Mira had given the three to rest in. Oreon's blade whistled down, but Desirae moved with impossible speed, her knee slamming into his stomach with the force of a battering ram, sending jolts of agony through him and widening his eyes in disbelief. He gasped, "Wha...What the hell..." a desperate, strangled cry as he's seized by the scruff of his neck and hurled through the tavern's front door, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs and sending a shower of sawdust flying.
"What the..." Oreon grumbled, as he barely lifted his head up to see another figure standing beside Desirae.
"Hello, Thief..." Oreon's blood ran cold as the chilling tone sliced through the air, and he saw Desirae and the dark elf, Vexes, striding towards him; their shadowed forms somehow amplified.
Oreon groaned, muscles screaming in protest, as he saw the two figures approaching, their menacing silhouettes halting a short distance away while he painfully hauled himself upright.
Meanwhile, Sylvanie slowly picked herself up, a gasp escaping her lips as her eyes shot up in shock at the new figure silhouetted in the broken doorway; the only sound was her ragged breath, catching in her throat.
At the same time, Celestia quickly and silently ushered Mira into the room, concealing her from view.
"Child," Mira rasped, the words catching in her dry throat.
"Shh," Celestia shushed gently. "Don't try to talk. I've healed you, but you need to rest." She spoke softly.
"Lena..." Mira breathed slowly, turning her head towards Celestia as she was guided to the bed. "Where's Lena?" Mira asked.
"Don't worry, I'll go find her. You just stay here and rest." With a declaration, Celestia immediately sprang to her feet and bolted out the door, rushing downstairs to the main floor of the tavern.
The world seems to slow down as Oreon faces the two figures before him. Desirae's crimson eyes gleam with satisfaction, but it's the newcomer who draws his full attention. Vexes stands tall and imposing, his obsidian armor absorbing the light around him, making him appear as if carved from the darkness itself. His silver hair contrasts sharply with his midnight- dark blue skin, and the cruel smile that plays across his lips reveals teeth filed to points
"The infamous Oreon," Vexes said, his voice like velvet over steel. "I expected someone... more impressive."
"Yea," Oreon struggled a bit as he tightened the grip on his daggers. "I get that a lot." He commented, glaring at the two figures in front of him.
Inside the tavern, Sylvanie's expression shifts from shock to cold fury as she recognizes the dark elf in the doorway. Her hands tremble slightly—not from fear, but from rage so intense it threatens to consume her.
"Vexes," she whispers, the name itself a curse on her lips.
Memories flash through her mind—the fall of their kingdom, the betrayal that led to their capture, the faces of those who died because of this man's treachery.
Celestia, her mind races as she searches throughout the Tavern to find Lena. She burst through every door she could. "Lena!" No response. "Lena!" She called out as she opened another door. "Le... Wait... What did Desirae say just before..." Celestia reflected on what Desirae had said when she revealed herself.
-Flashback-
"The girl? Still in the garden, I believe. Sleeping. For now." She tilts her head, studying Oreon with newfound interest.
-Flashback Ended-
"Garden?" Celestia repeated her thoughts, then her eyes snaps open. "Outside!" She said to herself as she ran towards the back door of the Tavern, bursting through it to find Lena's body lying unconscious in a bed of flowers. "Lena!" Celestia shouted as she runs towards the fallen girl, cradling her head gently, checking for injuries. The girl is breathing steadily, though a dark bruise blooms across her temple. Celestia's healing magic flows into her, golden light seeping into the wound.
"Lena, can you hear me?" she whispered urgently, her eyes darting to the doorway where she can hear the confrontation unfolding.
Outside in the front of the tavern, Oreon shifts his stance, ignoring the pain radiating through his body as he faces the two deadly adversaries. His daggers readied in his hands.
"Sorry to disappoint," he replied to Vexes, his voice steady despite the danger. "I'll try to make my death more spectacular for you."
Vexes laughs, the sound devoid of warmth.
"Oh, we're not here to kill you, thief," he said, drawing his own weapon—a long, curved blade that seems to drink in the light. "The Order wants you alive. The shard, too, of course."
Desirae circles to Oreon's left, creating a pincer movement.
"Though they didn't specify what condition you needed to be in," she added with a cruel smile. "Just breathing."
Inside the tavern, Sylvanie's fury crystallizes into deadly purpose. The shadows around her deepen, responding to her rage as she moves silently toward the shattered doorway. Her crimson eyes lock onto Vexes' back, and memories of their kingdom's fall fuel her magic. Dark tendrils of energy curl around her fingers as they began to form her signature dark black and red scythe in her hand.
Meanwhile, Celestia feels Lena stir beneath her healing touch. The girl's eyelids flutter, and a soft moan escapes her lips.
"Wh-what happened?" Lena whispers, her voice barely audible. "My head..."
"Shh," Celestia soothed, continued to channel healing energy into the girl. "You're safe now. Rest."
Her attention, however, is divided. Through their bond, she can feel Sylvanie's rage building like a gathering storm. The darkness of her sister's magic calls to her, a warning of what's to come.
Back to the battle, Oreon stands his ground between the two predators, his mind racing through options. The dragon shard pulses in his pocket, its energy responding to his elevated heartbeat.
Oreon could only grit his teeth as Vexes appeared before him with impossible speed, the hiss of steel a prelude to the almost invisible slash of his sword. "Dammit!" A grunt of frustration escaped Oreon as his dagger barely deflected the blow, the impact jarring his arm. As he tried to counter the strike, Vexes quickly returned with a spinning elbow, the sound of bone meeting bone echoing, followed up with a spinning roundhouse kick that sent Oreon sprawling to the ground.
"Save some for me!" A wild laugh ripped from Desirae's lips as she charged, leaping into the air, short sword raised high above her head, aiming for Oreon's chest just as he rolled away, narrowly avoiding the blow. Steel shrieked against steel as they clashed, a flurry of motion and immediate counterattacks. A deafening ring of steel cut through the air as Oreon parried, his muscles screaming in protest against the inhuman speed of his adversary. "Come on!" Desirae chided. "I know you can do better than that!" Oreon's attack came fast, but she reacted faster, leaping back just as his dagger sliced the air. With a powerful knee strike, she dropped him, the impact echoing, before grabbing his shirt and throwing him with surprising force.
Oreon's body slammed against the crumbling brick of the old building, a jarring thud echoing through the alleyway, before bouncing slightly; pain contorted his features as he hung suspended in midair for a heart-stopping moment before Vexes's flying kick sent him hurtling through the weakened structure.
The ancient brick wall crumbles under the impact, dust and debris billowing outward as Oreon crashes through it. He lands hard amidst the rubble, his body a canvas of pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His daggers remain clutched in his hands, though his grip has weakened.
"Yep, that hurt." Oreon winced as Vexes steps through the hole in the wall, his silhouette menacing against the cloud of dust.
"Is this truly the man who's given the Order so much trouble?" Vexes asks, his voice dripping with contempt. "The thief who stole their precious shard and escaped their most secured fortress?
"Yep, that..,Was me." Oreon struggles to his knees, spat blood onto the dusty floor. His vision blurs, but his hand moves instinctively to his pocket, feeling the warm pulse of the dragon shard still within it.
"Still there..." Oreon breathed to himself, the pain excruciating as he tried to stand. "Just what the hell are these two?" Oreon thought to himself. "I know they're not human, but damn; could they hit any harder?"
"The shard, thief; I won't ask again. "Vexes stood in front of the hole in the wall that he knocked Oreon through.
"The shard, thief; I won't ask again." Oreon mocked as he glared at Vexes. "Yea, well..." Blood trickled down Oreon's forehead, straining his bruised and battered skin as he finally pushed himself upright. "That's just too bad, because I really don't feel like giving it to you." Vexes lunged for Oreon, his hand outstretched, but stopped dead as Sylvanie rose from the earth's shadows, the air growing heavy with her arrival. She erupted from the ground, scythe already a deadly arc toward Vexes' head, the whoosh of its movement filling the air. His desperate leap saved him; she landed beside Oreon, the metallic clang of her scythe echoing as she prepared to fight.
"You always did have a flair for dramatic entrances," Vexes remarks, his voice cool despite the near miss. The edge of Sylvanie's scythe had sliced a thin line across his cheek, a trickle of dark blood now running down his face.
Sylvanie's eyes blazed with hatred as she stood protectively before Oreon, her body tensed like a spring.
"And you always were a traitorous snake," she spat, her voice trembling with fury. Pointing our scythe towards him. "How many of our people died because of you, Vexes? How many suffered while you drank wine with the Order's generals?
The metallic tang of blood-filled Vexes' nostrils as he wiped his cheek, his smirk widening at the Dark elf's scowl. "Drank wine with the Order generals?" He repeated the phrase slowly, the silence amplifying the weight of each carefully chosen word. "One of my finest moments." He brought the blade to his lips, his tongue tracing its edge, a strange glint in his eyes.
"Finest moment?" She repeated. "Don't you dare," Sylvanie retorted, her scythe still pointed at Vexes, the glint of steel catching the light. "Don't you dare elevate yourself off the deaths of our kind you slithering snake. "She hissed as she kept her Scythe pointed at him. "You betrayed our people? My father trusted you to be his advisor and you sold us out to the Order!" She shouted at him while he remained silent. "For what? Power? Gold? What the hell could the Order have possibly offered you to turn your back on us!" Her voice rose in anger with every second that passed. "Answer me Vexes!" Vexes stared impassively at the Dark Elf Princess. "I SAID ANSWER ME!"
Vexes stared at her intently before commencing to speak. "You think too little princess. Your family always did." With a slow, deliberate pace, he began to circle the pair, the rustle of his clothes the only sound besides his quiet words. "Survival princess, survival from being extinguished under the heels of time." With an indistinct murmur, he twirled his dark blade, the polished steel glinting ominously in the dim light.
"Your father was a fool," he simply said. "Clinging to old ways, old alliances. The Order offered progress, power. Something your weak-minded father couldn't fathom. A future for the elves, at least for those who would take it." A cruel grin stretched across his face as Sylvanie's eyes narrowed, her face darkening with a furious hate, while Vexes's hateful words spewed forth like venom.
"You damn monster." Sylvanie responded her stance unwavering, but tears slowly formed, threatened to spill down her cheek. "You led the Order right to our gates, showed them every weakness in our defenses." A sharp intake of breath preceded her glare; the scythe gleamed dully as he circled, the palpable tension filling the air.
"The age of Elves was ending, Princess." Vexes continued. "Your father only offered false promises, while the Order represented the future. I simply secured my place in it." Vexes tongue licked his lips again. "Albeit, at the cost of your father's foolish dreams." Vexes finished his statement; Sylvanie's crimson eyes blazing with furious hatred, she vanished in a blur of motion, reappearing before him with a guttural snarl, her scythe clashing against Vexes's blade with a deafening clang.
"I'll kill you..." breathing hard, she swept her blade back, and then launched into a ferocious attack, the sounds of metal clashing echoing through the air. "I'LL KILL YOU!" With a furious cry, she slashed and slashed, her blade a blur, while Vexes expertly dodged and parried, the clang of their swords echoing through the air.
"You betrayed everything!" Sylvanie hissed, her scythe cutting through the air in a vicious arc that Vexes dodged. "Our kingdom, our people, our trust!"
Vexes laughs, the sound hollow and cold as he parries her next attack with his curved blade. "I just chose the winning side princess! Don't be mad that you didn't do the same!" He dodged another blow from her scythe, the sharp metal whistling past his ear as he kicked her away, her legs skidding against the rough cobblestones before she lunged again, a feral glint in her eyes.
Their weapons clashed again, a shower of sparks erupting as steel met steel. Each blow resonated with the bitter taste of betrayal; the air thick with tension as former allies fought.
Their battle continues, Sylvanie a blur of motion, faster than the untrained eye could follow, each movement a deadly threat. Her scythe is a blur of motion as she attacks Vexes with relentless fury. Yet, Vexes mirrored her speed, his heavy obsidian blade deflecting her attacks with perfect precision.
"You fight well for a slave." Vexes taunts, his silver hair whipping around his face as he spins away from Sylvanie's strike. "But you lack discipline. You always did."
With a snarling retort, Sylvanie summoned shadowy tendrils from the ground, lashing out like whips to force Vexes to retreat several steps. "And you lack honor." She spat.
"Shadow casting, eh?" Vexes smirked cruelly as he charged forward, his speed a blur, easily dodging the whipping tendrils that lashed out. Electrified air vibrated as the tendrils hit the ground, just where he'd stood an instant earlier. Vexes' curved blade sliced through Sylvanie's shadow tendrils like butter, the metallic *shink* of steel on shadow echoing as his cruel laughter filled the air. "Who would have thought you would have regained your magic so quickly, princess!" His voice, thick with astonishment, was almost physically felt as their blades clashed again; this time, her struggles against his superior strength were evident.
A powerful thrust of his blade shattered Sylvanie's guard. He swiftly kneed her in the gut, forcing her to her knees before grabbing her head and ramming her face into the earth. "Your father could have allied himself with the Order!" He exclaimed. "But he wanted to continue spouting that nonsense!" He forced her head down onto the cobblestones, eliciting pained grunts. "Outdated traditions." He gritted his teeth. "Meaningless alliances!" He pressed harder. "Tell me princess, why do you still stand by your pathetic father's folly of a dream to align with the lesser races!" Vexes screamed at her.
"You mean like this one!" With a battle cry, Oreon's blade flashed as he attempted to strike Vexes face, but Vexes barely dodged, springing away from the falling Sylvanie, and Oreon positioned himself protectively before her.
A low growl escapes Vexes lips as he eyed the two, but mainly Oreon. "Ah, the thief plays the hero." He remarks, twirling his curved blade with casual expertise. "How noble of you to defend her. Tell me, human, do you even know what you're protecting? What she is? What her kind has done?"
Oreon stood his ground, daggers raised defensively as he positioned himself between Vexes and Sylvanie. His breathing was labored, his body battered from the earlier fight, but determination burned in his eyes.
"I know enough," *Oreon replied, his voice steady despite his injuries.* "I know the Order slaughtered her people. I know they enslaved survivors. And I know you helped them do it."
From behind him, Sylvanie rose, brushing blood from her lips with the back of her hand. With renewed fury, her crimson eyes blazed as she held her scythe tightly.
"Stand aside, human," she growled, her voice low and dangerous.
Oreon didn't move. His stance remained firm between Sylvanie and Vexes.
"This isn't your fight," Sylvanie continued, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "He's mine to kill."
"Not a chance," Oreon replied, his grip held firm on his daggers. "Besides, he literally just had you eating dirt." He glanced over at her.
"Smart-ass" Sylvanie glanced back at him as they both looked at each other for a moment, a small smirk appearing on both of their faces.
Vexes laughed. "How touching," he mocked. "The fallen princess and her human pet. The Order would be amused."
Sylvanie brushed against Oreon's shoulder as she stepped beside him, rather than staying behind. Her crimson eyes never returning Vexes, but her words were for Oreon.
"Together," *she conceded, her voice softer than before. "But when the moment comes, his heart is mine to stop."
"Round 2 then?" Returning his gaze to Vexes, Oreon spoke, his hands tightening around his pair of daggers.
Sylvanie nodded, her eyes still remained on Vexes as she glared hatefully at him. "Let's punish the bad Elf." As the three locked in a tense standoff, she growled, Vexes smirking.
While their battle resumed, Desirae circles the building, the sounds of the confrontation muffled but audible through the shattered wall, her amber eyes glinting with calculation as she watches. A sly smile played on her lips as she saw her chance—an opening, not for an assault, but a quiet escape toward the shadowed back entrance of the tavern.
Inside, Celestia helps Lena up to the same room that she hid Mira in, her healing magic having reduced the girl's injury to little more than a dull ache.
"Miss," Lena whispers, her eyes wide with fear, "There's something wrong with that woman—the one who looked like me. When she touched me, I felt... I felt like something was being pulled out of me. Like she was drinking my memories."
Celestia's brow furrows with concern as she helps Lena inside the room. "Don't worry, she won't touch you again." Celestia assured, "You'll be safe in here with your mother," she states gently. "I must aid my sister and Oreon."
Closing the door with a soft click, Celestia pressed her hand against the smooth wood, her eyes flickering as light magic pulsed beneath her fingertips, causing the door to glow softly with an inner light before fading back to its normal brown. She quickly turned, the wooden stairs creaking under her feet as she descended to the now-empty main floor of the tavern, the silence heavy in the air. As she prepared for battle, a sudden movement—a dark shadow sliding through the back entrance—stopped her, her senses heightened by the looming fight. Desirae.
"I know you're there," Celestia calls out, her voice steady despite the danger. "You won't find the keeper. I've hidden her well."
Desirae emerges from the shadows, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Always the protector, aren't you, Princess? Even now, when you've lost everything, you still try to save everyone."
"Not everyone," Celestia replied, her blue eyes hardening. "Just those who deserve it." Celestia stands firm as Desirae approaches, amber eyes gleaming with predatory intent.
"Where is the keeper?" Desirae demands, "I wasn't finished with her yet."
"Safe from you," Celestia replied, the golden light emanating from her hands creating a shimmering aura of protection. "I won't let you hurt anyone else."
As Desirae slowly circled her, a laugh like broken glass escaped her lips. "Such noble words from a slave." She giggled. "Did you forget what you were reduced to? What they did to you in those cells? Have you not realized that you don't have the power to protect anything?"
"I haven't forgotten." Celestia remained stern. "I haven't forgotten how it felt when I couldn't protect my kingdom. How I couldn't protect my father from being betrayed by you, and the other Elves who took the Order's hands out, like lost puppies begging to put on a leash." Celestia's eyes slightly narrowing.
"Oh, snappy, aren't we?" Desirae replied. "I guess losing your royalty would do that to you, but then again, it's not like you've earned any of it."
Watching Desirae slowly circle around her, Celestia's eyes narrowed. "Celestia, the once renowned princess of the great Elven Kingdom, is now reduced to lowly peasant protecting humans. Such a huge step down from wearing the crown on your head, huh, Princess? Or should I call you, former Queen?" Desirae's taunts, punctuated by widening smirks, failed to deter.
"You've fallen far, Desirae." Celestia began. "Once a prominent figure at the round table of Elves to now being nothing but a dog who barks for the Order." Celestia returned the smirk. "Out of all people, I would assume you would feel the most shame."
"I remember how you look in your cell," Desirae hissed, stalking forward with measured steps. "So proper, so dignified, even as they stripped everything from you. It was pathetic."
Celestia's expression remains serene, though her eyes harden like sapphires.
"And I remember you," she replied, her voice steady. "So eager to please your new masters. Tell me, did licking their boots fill the emptiness inside you?" Celestia pressed back, her golden light shining brighter. "If I knew you were so fond of groveling, I would have happily let you lick mines." She ended, another taunt added to the battle of words before a fight.
"I may have lost my crown," Celestia said, her voice gaining strength, "but I never lost myself. Can you say the same, Desirae? Or are you content being just another puppet for the Order?" Desirae's smile falters, replaced by a flash of genuine anger.
"Shut up!" Desirae moves with unnatural speed, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat, her short sword aimed at Celestia's throat. But Celestia is ready—a shield of golden light materializes between them, the blade striking harmlessly against it with a shower of sparks. "I was always so sick of that high and mighty act you put on." Desirae jumped back as Celestia remained on her guard. "You always looked down on us, that cold, uncaring stare that you give your subordinates, even now you still try to act like you don't belong in chains!"
With remarkable speed, Desirae lunged forward, her sword flashing out in a rapid series of attacks against Celestia, who, with a display of skill and grace, deflected each blow with the shimmering golden light that surrounded her. Seeing that she couldn't get around Celestia's defenses, Desirae jumps back, standing up straight as she smirked at Celestia again.
"Look at you. Despite your current pathetic state, you still cling to that former elegance you once had.," Desirae said, a swirling vortex of dark, sinister energy coalescing beneath her.
Celestia's eyes narrowed at the sight, preparing herself for what was about to come. "I see you noticed it." Desirae smirked, her energy almost mimicking that of Celestia's, but darker. "You're surprised, aren't you? Not knowing what I truly am now, what the Order has done for me." Another small giggle escaped from her.
"Do you know what I can do, princess?" Desirae purrs, her voice changing pitch and tone with each word. "I could become anyone. Your sister, perhaps? Or maybe..." Her features shift, rearranging into a face that makes Celestia's heart stop—her father's face, looking exactly as he had the day the kingdom fell.
"My darling daughter," *Desirae said in the Elvin King's voice, perfect in every inflection. "Always so dutiful, even in exile."
Celestia's hands tremble, but her magic doesn't waver. Golden light pulses around her fingers, growing brighter.
"You dishonor his memory," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the pain in her eyes. "My father died protecting our people from monsters like you."
"And what did he get for his troubles?" Desirae returned to her normal self, her eyes wide and crazed. "Dead in his own throne room, left to rot while his daughters became slaves!"
With that, Desirae launched another attack; a dark aura crackled around her as she pulled back her blade, ready to strike the former queen, whose eyes narrowed in anticipation of the impending blow, the air thick with tension.