26. Thalos

26

THALOS

T he night is still, save for the soft crackle of the fire outside the minotaur lair. My sleep is light, as always, my instincts honed by years of battle. But something—an unfamiliar scent on the wind, a distant murmur—pulls me awake.

Then, I turn to Laia by my side. She’s stirring, her eyes opening slightly. “Thalos? Why are you up already?”

She’s naked beside me, the memories of our lovemaking still fresh in my head. It was magic. The most beautiful thing that occurred in my existence.

Suddenly, footsteps interrupt us. Irix comes into my cave, his eyes drifting to Laia for a second before he turns to me.

“Get up, Thalos.” Irix is ready, his broad frame tense, eyes glowing in the dim light of the lair. “Orcs.”

I’m up in an instant, heart pounding as I grab my axe. The air hums with the scent of smoke. Stepping outside, my gaze hardens. The forest is alight, the distant roar of flames licking at the night sky.

Irix stands beside me, his grip tight on his weapon. “They’re close,” he mutters.

“Kael,” I call out sharply. He emerges from the shadows, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight before us. Laia follows close behind him, her face pale but resolute.

“We need to move,” Kael says, his voice calm despite the tension crackling in the air.

“Stay with her,” I order, my gaze locking onto Laia’s. She nods, clutching a dagger tight against her chest.

We move as one unit. The heat from the approaching flames grows more intense with each step. The scent of burning wood and orcish stench fills my nostrils.

“I’ll take point,” Irix says, already moving ahead.

“Stay close,” I warn Kael and Laia as we follow Irix through the dense underbrush.

The glow of the fire reveals figures moving through the trees—orcish raiders, their crude weapons glinting in the flickering light. They’re setting fire to everything in their path.

I raise my axe and signal to Irix and Kael. We spread out, flanking our enemies with practiced precision. The first orc charges at me with a guttural roar. I sidestep and swing my axe in a wide arc, cleaving through its armor and flesh with ease.

Chaos erupts around us as we engage the orcs in battle. Each strike of my axe feels like a hammer blow against an anvil. Beside me, Irix fights with wild ferocity, his movements a blur of muscle and steel.

Kael remains close to Laia, protecting her from any orcs that break through our line. She’s fighting too—quick and agile—but it’s clear she’s not used to this kind of chaos.

“Keep moving!” I shout over the din of battle.

We push forward through the flames and smoke...

“Why are the orcs attacking?” Laia, her hair disheveled and eyes wide with confusion, asks with a voice that is barely audible over the rising chaos, “Why are the orcs attacking?”

Before I can answer, a shout echoes through the trees. The guttural bellow of orcs calling my name. “Thalos! Show yourself, coward!”

My face darkens, grip tightening on my weapon. I step forward, chest rising and falling with barely-contained rage. “Stay back,” I tell Laia, my voice a low snarl.

The orcs emerge from the tree line, their armor gleaming with firelight. At their head, a hulking brute steps forward, a sneer twisting his scarred face. “Eryndor wants the girl,” he spits, pointing a jagged blade toward Laia. “Hand her over, and we spare your miserable lives.”

I laugh; the sound is cold and dangerous, echoing through the burning forest. “You’re nothing but a dark elf’s lackey now?” I taunt, stepping closer, my broad shoulders casting a shadow over the orc. “Is this what your honor has come to? Following his leash like a dog?”

The orc’s face twists in fury, his tusks bared in a snarl. “Enough! Hand her over, or we’ll burn your precious forest to the ground!”

My eyes flash with defiance. “Come and try,” I growl, raising my axe. “But know this—you’ll never touch her.”

The orc snarls a command, and the ground trembles as they charge. I roar, meeting them head-on, my axe cleaving through the first attacker like a blade through water. The battle begins.

The clash of steel rings out as we collide. Irix’s roar echoes beside me as he slams into an orc, his blade cutting through armor and flesh with savage precision. Kael stays close to Laia, his movements a dance of lethal grace as he deflects blows aimed at her.

An orc lunges at me, its eyes filled with bloodlust. I swing my axe in a brutal arc, the blade biting deep into its shoulder. It falls with a gurgled scream, but there’s no time to savor the victory. Another takes its place almost instantly.

As the fight continues, I can’t help but glance at Laia. She fights beside Kael, her dagger flashing in the firelight. She moves with surprising agility, ducking under wild swings and striking with precision. She’s learning—adapting to the chaos around her.

A massive orc barrels toward me, its axe raised high. I meet it head-on, our weapons clashing with bone-jarring force. The impact reverberates up my arms, but I hold firm, pushing back with all my strength.

“Is this all you’ve got?” I shout over the din of battle, my voice dripping with disdain.

The orc snarls, trying to overpower me, but I twist my grip and drive my axe into its gut. It crumples to the ground, and I pull my weapon free with a grunt.

Around me, the forest is a blur of fire and blood. We fight on, each strike fueled by determination and rage. We will not let these invaders take what is ours—not our home, not Laia.

I will make sure that Laia remains with us. With me. My enemies will pay the price if they try to take her away. Irix and Kael won’t let anything happen to her; so am I.

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