7. Rhea

7

RHEA

I wake to a warmth that's foreign, yet not unwelcome. It's a stark contrast to the chill of the forest floor that I expected to claim me. It appears that I'm in some kind of hideout cavern. I'm lying on a bed of moss and furs that smell of earth and the metallic tang of blood. My body aches, but the wound on my leg has been tended to, the bandages snug against my skin.

Confusion fogs my mind as I try to sit up, a hiss escaping through my clenched teeth. The world spins, and I sink back onto the makeshift bed, my heart pounding out a frantic rhythm. That's when I see him. His crimson eyes seem to pierce the gloom of the cave. He stands at the edge of my vision, a dark silhouette against the dimly lit interior.

"You're awake," he says, his voice a deep rumble that echoes off the cavern walls.

My instinct is to recoil, to put as much distance between myself and this creature of darkness. But there's something in his gaze, a flicker of something I can't quite place. It's not the cold, cruel glint I've come to expect from the dark elves. It's... different. There's a depth there, a well of understanding that I hadn't anticipated.

I try to speak, but my throat is parched, the words dying before they can reach my lips. He steps closer, and I catch the scent of leather and steel, mingling with the faintest hint of pine. He crouches beside me, his movements fluid and silent.

"Here," he says, offering a waterskin.

I eye it warily, my hand trembling as I reach out to take it. Our fingers brush, and a jolt of surprise courses through me at the warmth of his touch. There's a pulse of life within him that I hadn't expected.

I lift the waterskin to my lips, the cool water a balm to my dry mouth. I drink deeply, the liquid coursing down my throat and spreading warmth throughout my body.

My voice is a mere croak when I finally find the strength to speak. "Who are you?" I ask.

He pauses, his crimson eyes holding mine. "I'm a Vrakken," he says, the title hanging in the air between us, a shroud of mystery that does little to quell the turmoil within me.

He soon recounts the events of the hunt, his words painting a vivid, terrifying picture. I was a breath away from death's door, he explains. My consciousness slipped like sand through fingers as the dark elves closed in on me. He tells me of the cruelty he witnessed. The senseless violence that claimed Mari's life, her final moments marked by a desperate attempt to save me that was so cruelly snatched away.

My heart, already a fragile thing, threatens to shatter as he begins to speak of my parents. He describes their final moments with a detached precision that somehow makes it more real, more painful. They pleaded for their lives for the sake of their child. And then, silence.

I suddenly can't breathe. The air in the cavern feels too thick, too heavy. My parents, gone. Mari, gone. The life I knew, the future I dared to dream of with them, gone. All that's left is a gaping maw of loss that threatens to consume me entirely.

His voice softens slightly, the first hint of gentleness I've heard from him. "They seemed to worry more about you than themselves, Rhea," he says.

The sound of my name on his lips is jarring. It's a reminder that I'm not just a survivor of the hunt. I'm a daughter, a friend, a human being who has been forever changed by the cruel whims of the dark elves.

I don't know how to process the grief that's threatening to drown me. So, I do what I've always done when faced with overwhelming pain—I push it down, lock it away in the deepest recesses of my heart. There will be time for mourning later, when I'm not lying in the dark with a creature I barely know.

He seems to understand my need for silence, for space to grapple with the news of my loss. He retreats to the edge of the cavern.

The silence stretches on, a comfortable companion that allows me to sift through the chaos of my emotions. I watch him, the way he moves with a predator's grace, the way his eyes seem to see right through the darkness. There's a sense of coiled power about him, a quiet strength that's both intimidating and strangely comforting.

I find my voice again, the words barely above a whisper. "Why did you save me?" I ask.

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable. "I saw something in you—a fire that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of death. It reminded me of those I once knew," he says in a low voice.

Those he once knew. The unspoken words hang between us, a shared understanding of loss and survival. In this moment, we're not so different, despite the vast chasm of experience and power that lies between us.

I let out a shaky breath, the weight of my new reality settling heavily on my shoulders. I'm alive, but at what cost? My family, my friend—they paid the ultimate price for my survival. And now, I'm left to navigate a world that's been irrevocably altered.

A fire soon kindles within me, a blaze fueled by my loss and a seething need for retribution. I feel it crackling in my veins. It's a heat that scorches away the numbness of my grief. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

"I want to fight. I want to kill the dark elves," I say, the words tasting of ashes and iron resolve. My voice, usually soft-spoken, now carries an edge.

His eyes narrow slightly. There's a silence that stretches between us, taut as a bowstring.

"If you fight, you fight to win," he finally says, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in the hollow of my chest. "I can teach you, but you must be willing to let go of everything else."

Everything else. The life I knew, the dreams I cherished, the people I loved—all turned to dust by the dark elves' cruelty. There's nothing left for me to hold onto but this burning desire for vengeance.

I hesitate, the heaviness of my decision pressing down on me. But as I meet his gaze, I see a reflection of my own fervor mirrored back at me. He understands this path I'm choosing, for it's one he's walked himself.

"I'm ready," I say, the words a vow that seals my fate.

He gives a curt nod, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Very well. I am Valen," he introduces himself formally.

He soon begins to speak more about his past, of the family and clan he lost centuries ago. I listen with rapt attention. His story is filled with sorrow and vengeance. There's a depth to his loss that I'm only beginning to comprehend, a chasm of time and suffering that I can't fully grasp.

Valen's crimson eyes are distant, focused on a time I cannot see, but the flicker of a flame reflected within them draws me closer, not in proximity, but in understanding. It's the same flame that burns within me—the fire of revenge, of a desire for justice that transcends time and space.

I soon find myself opening up to him in return, my own tale spilling forth, the words tasting of bitterness and longing. I tell him of the unyielding stone walls that have been my world for as long as I can remember, the harsh sting of the dark elves' derision, and the tiny sliver of sky I cherished as my only glimpse of freedom. I confess my fear and despair during the hunt, the hopelessness that clawed at me as I lay on the forest floor, resigned to my fate.

"And now, look at you," he says, his gaze intense, as if trying to decipher the thoughts racing behind my eyes. "You are not the same woman who was dragged into that forest."

His words stir something within me, a truth that's been struggling to emerge from the shadow of my former self. "No, I'm not," I admit.

Somehow, in this dimly lit cavern, we find common ground. Our enemies are the same, our goal a shared vision of retribution.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the journey ahead. My grief is still there, but it's overshadowed by the fierce determination that now fuels my every breath.

Together, we will make the dark elves pay for their sins. Together, we will rewrite the story of our lives, not as victims, but as victors. The path ahead is fraught with danger, but we will face it head-on, with steel in our hands and fire in our hearts.