9. Irix

9

IRIX

T he wind cuts through my fur like a blade, cold and biting. I crouch low on a slope, eyes fixed on the movement below. Dark elves.

My fingers tighten around my axe, knuckles cracking in anticipation.

"They've come for her," I mutter. My voice sounds more like a growl, even to my own ears. My eyes narrow, watching their every step.

They move with caution, their dark armor glinting in the patches of light filtering through the trees. The air around them seems to chill further, tainted by their presence.

One of them steps forward, his helmet adorned with twisted horns. He looks around, suspicious but not yet aware of my presence. Good. Let them come closer.

I flex my muscles, feeling the tension coil within me like a spring ready to snap. These bastards think they can just waltz into our territory? Think again.

Thalos's words echo in my mind: "She's trouble."

Maybe she is, but she's our trouble now. And I'll be damned if I let these dark elves take her back to that hellhole she escaped from.

I inch forward, my movements silent and deliberate. Each step brings me closer to the edge of the ridge, closer to them. I count their numbers—five—scouting party, light armor but well-armed. They won't be an easy kill.

But then again, nothing worth fighting for ever is.

One of them stops suddenly, raising a hand to signal the others. He sniffs the air, his eyes narrowing as if sensing something off. A trickle of unease runs through me. Do they know I'm here?

I grip my axe tighter and roll my shoulders back. If it's a fight they want, it's a fight they'll get.

Their leader motions for them to spread out, searching for any signs of disturbance. They’re methodical but not infallible.

A branch snaps beneath one of their feet—a tiny sound in this vast forest but loud enough to betray their position to me completely.

I smirk and take one last breath of the crisp air before pushing myself off the slope with a powerful leap.

"Surprise," I whisper to myself as I descend upon them like a force of nature.

The first elf doesn’t even see it coming—my axe swings down with brutal efficiency, cleaving into his shoulder before he can react. His scream cuts through the forest air as his comrades whirl around in shock.

Too late for them now.

I stand, rolling my shoulders, my weapon familiar and comforting in my hand. The metallic smell of blood and adrenaline lingers in the air, a testament to the brief but violent encounter. For a moment, I debate my next move, eyes scanning the forest for any signs of more dark elves. But there's nothing. Just the stillness of the wilds and the soft rustling of leaves.

Thalos needs to know.

Turning back toward the lair, I move with swift, powerful strides. The forest parts for me as if sensing my urgency, branches and underbrush yielding to my passage. The distance melts away under my determined pace, every step bringing me closer to our stronghold.

As I approach the entrance, the familiar scent of home—earthy, musky—fills my nostrils. The firelight flickers within, casting dancing shadows on the rough-hewn walls. I step inside, my brothers looking up at my arrival.

“Dark elves,” I say, my voice laced with disdain. “They’re close. Probably looking for the girl.”

Thalos’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and calculation. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, his muscles tense beneath his fur. For a moment, he says nothing, just staring into the fire as if seeking answers in its flames.

“We’re not using her as bait,” Thalos finally says, his voice firm. “At least, not yet.”

Kael looks up from his place by Laia’s side, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. My gaze flicks between us all, a smirk playing at my lips.

I cross my arms as well, waiting for Thalos’s next command. The tension in the lair is palpable, but there’s also an unspoken understanding among us: we protect our own.

For now.

My eyes flick to Laia, who’s standing nearby with a pale face. She overheard the conversation, her hands trembling slightly. A wicked grin spreads across my lips.

“Maybe she should decide,” I say, my voice dripping with challenge. “If she wants to prove herself, this would be the way to do it.”

Laia steps forward, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. “I don’t want to be abandoned,” she says quietly. “I’ll help. However I can.”

Is that so? I cross the room in a few swift strides, looming over her. The scent of fear mingles with determination radiating off her. It’s intoxicating.

“Then prove it,” I growl, my gaze darkening as I lean closer. “Kill for us. It’s the only way.”

Laia’s breath hitches, but she doesn’t back down. She meets my gaze head-on, defiant and resolute despite the tremor in her limbs. This girl… there’s something about her.

Something about her drives me to the brink of my sanity.

She nods, her jaw set with grim determination. “I’ll do it.”

We move out quickly, the dense forest swallowing us whole. The smell of pine and earth hangs thick around us, mingling with the dampness of the night air. My steps are silent, predatory, each movement deliberate and controlled. Laia follows close behind, her heart pounding loud enough that I can almost hear it over the rustling leaves.

Another group of dark elves are close now, their voices low and hushed as they scan the area. I signal for Laia to stay back, a quick gesture that she acknowledges with a tense nod. I creep forward, every sense attuned to the slightest movement.

I see them first—a trio of dark elves moving in a loose formation. Their eyes dart around, searching for any sign of disturbance. They don’t notice me until it’s too late. My axe swings in a brutal arc, cleaving through the first dark elf’s neck with a sickening crunch.

Blood sprays across the forest floor, dark and gleaming in the moonlight. The second elf lunges at Laia, his blade flashing dangerously close to her throat. For a moment, she freezes, terror paralyzing her limbs.

But I’m faster.

I step in front of her, blocking the blow with my axe. The impact jars through my arms as metal meets metal, but my grip holds firm. With a swift motion, I twist and drive my axe into the elf’s chest. He gasps, blood bubbling from his lips as he collapses at my feet.

I turn to Laia, my eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and expectation.

“You’re next,” I growl, voice low and intense.

Her face is pale, eyes wide with shock and fear. But there’s also something else—determination flickering beneath the surface. She swallows hard, her gaze locking onto mine.

“Show me,” she whispers, her voice trembling but resolute.

I nod curtly and step aside, pointing to the last remaining elf who stands frozen in horror at the sight of his fallen comrades. “He’s yours,” I say.

Laia hesitates for only a moment before stepping forward, hands trembling but steadying as she grips the dagger I hand her. This is it—her chance to prove herself that she’s now one of them.

And she takes it.