43. Irix

43

IRIX

I rush through the darkened halls, my ax gripped tightly in my hand. Each step echoes with purpose, every breath a growl. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless drumbeat driving me forward. The only thought consuming my mind: finding Laia.

A dark elf appears from a side corridor, eyes wide with surprise. He barely has time to draw his blade before my ax cleaves through him. His scream is short, cut off by the wet thud of his body hitting the stone floor. Blood splatters across my chest, warm and sticky, but I don’t slow down. Each kill only fuels the fire burning inside me.

Another dark elf lunges at me from behind, but I swing around, my ax slicing through flesh and bone. His body crumples to the ground, lifeless. I keep moving, not sparing a glance at the carnage left in my wake. These vermin are nothing but obstacles in my way.

The halls twist and turn, each one looking like the last. My rage simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. I think of Laia—her strength, her defiance—and it pushes me harder. I will find her. I will save her.

A group of dark elves—three of them—cross my path. They’re surprised to seem, and I take that short time to destroy them. I smash my axe into the closest elf and pull out my hunting knife to stab the other on the neck.

As for the third one, he scrambles on his feet, fear taking a hold of him. “Monster!”

I grin savagely and bring down my axe to slice his body in half. Blood gushes, bathing me in it. I wipe the crimson liquid from my eyes and continue on my mission.

As I round a corner, a flicker of movement catches my eye through a narrow window. I stop dead in my tracks, my heart freezing for a split second before roaring back to life with pure fury.

Laia.

She hangs from a pole in the courtyard, her body limp and battered under the cruel moonlight. The sight tears through me like a blade, igniting a primal rage that explodes from deep within.

A roar of pure fury erupts from my throat, echoing through the darkened halls like thunder. The sound is raw and wild, shaking loose stones from the walls.

I surge forward, my mind singularly focused on one thing: saving her and making Eryndor pay for every ounce of pain he’s caused her.

Laia, hold on. We’re coming for you.

My vision goes red. Rage blinds me as I smash through the enemies that stand between me and Laia. Dark elves rush at me, blades flashing, but I don’t feel the pain when they cut me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting to her.

I swing my ax with brutal force, cleaving through flesh and bone. Blood sprays on my skin, hot and metallic, but it only fuels the fire burning inside me. The dark elves fall like leaves in a storm, their screams echoing in the night air. They’re nothing—mere obstacles in my path.

“Irix!” Her voice reaches me, weak but filled with desperation.

Laia.

I push harder, my muscles straining as I cut down another dark elf who dares to stand in my way. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a thunderous roar driving me forward. I see her hanging there, her body battered and bruised, and a savage fury grips me tighter.

I charge forward, every fiber of my being focused on reaching her. But before I can get close, the ground beneath me gives way. A trap—a hidden pit lined with spikes.

I tumble into it, the sharp metal tearing into my side as I crash to the bottom. Pain explodes through me, white-hot and searing. But even as blood pours from the wounds, even as agony wracks my body, one thought blazes brighter than the rest: Laia needs me.

I grit my teeth against the pain, forcing myself to move despite the agony. I have to get out of here. I have to save her.

But for now, all I can do is roar in frustration and pain as the world spins around me.

Pain explodes through me, radiating from the spikes embedded in my side. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to my feet. My blood drips down my arms, pooling at my feet.

I look up, my vision swimming with red. Eryndor stands at the edge of the pit, his lips twisted into a cruel smirk. His eyes gleam with malice as he looks down at me.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Eryndor taunts, his voice dripping with condescension. "You minotaurs are always so predictable."

A snarl rips from my throat as I try to climb out of the pit, but my strength is fading fast. Each movement sends fresh waves of agony through me, and the edges of my vision blur. I can't let him win.

Just as Eryndor steps forward, ready to gloat over his victory, a roar echoes through the courtyard. Thalos and Kael burst onto the scene, their weapons drawn and eyes blazing with fury.

Thalos’s voice is a low, deadly growl. “Get away from him and Laia.”

Eryndor’s smirk falters as he turns to face them, but he quickly regains his composure. “Ah, Thalos,” he says smoothly. “You’re just in time to witness your brother’s demise.”

Kael steps forward, his eyes locked on mine. “We’ll see about that.”

_________