Blood

Chapter Forty Eight: Elves against Shifters

The air in the strategy chamber was thick with tension, the kind that settles before a storm. Ethan leaned against the heavy oak table where maps and scribbled notes lay sprawled, trying to appear calm as Eliza outlined their attack plan to a handful of trusted soldiers. The flickering light of the torches cast shadows on the stone walls, making the room feel smaller, more suffocating.

Eliza, her voice steady and commanding, gestured to the map pinned to the table. "The shifters' camp is located here," she said, tapping a cluster of trees marked on the parchment. "They've been moving supplies, which means they're preparing for something big. We strike tonight—while they're still getting organized."

One of the soldiers, a broad-shouldered man named Darian, frowned. "Are you certain it's wise to attack them on their turf?"

Eliza's gaze hardened. "If we wait for them to strike first, they'll catch us off guard. This is our best chance to weaken them. We take out their heavy hitters first—those who lead and inspire the pack. Without them, the rest will falter."

Ethan nodded, his palms resting on the table's edge. "It's better to deal the first blow than wait to defend against theirs." His voice sounded more confident than he felt.

Eliza continued, pointing to the map. "We'll split into two teams. One will take the eastern flank, and the other will target the heart of their camp. The goal is to create chaos. Their leaders won't be able to rally their forces if we hit them fast and hard."

Darian crossed his arms. "What about their numbers? We'll be outnumbered."

"We're not here to win the war tonight," Eliza replied sharply. "This is a calculated strike to destabilize them before dawn. Every advantage we take tonight will save lives tomorrow."

Ethan added, "And remember, the shifters thrive on intimidation. Don't let them see your fear. They'll try to divide us—don't let that happen."

After a few more adjustments to the plan, Eliza stepped back, scanning the room. "We move in silence. No unnecessary risks. If any of you hesitate, you'll put the entire mission in jeopardy." Her eyes landed on Ethan for a moment, and he felt a pang of self-doubt.

The soldiers exchanged glances and nodded. Eliza began picking her team: Darian, Maris, Kellan, Farin, and three others whose names Ethan didn't catch. Adding herself and Ethan made their number ten.

While the other soldiers were picking their swords and axes, Ethan just sat back and stared at them. He's never gone into a fight with weapons before, when he was only a vampire, his fangs and claws were his weapons. Now that he has magic, he can easily make a sword or spear out of pure energy. He was still curious about what magical powers the elves possessed though. He knew about the visions that Eliza had but he had a feeling that was a power unique to only her. The other elves should have a general magical power right? Like vampires with their super speed, claws and stuff, Werewolves with their agility, super strength and claws, even witches with their spells and Alistair, whatever he was. When the troops were all well armed, they proceeded with their plan.

---

The night was dark, with thick clouds muffling the light of the moon. The forest stretched before them, its towering trees casting long, jagged shadows that seemed to breathe with the wind. The air was crisp and carried the earthy scent of pine and damp moss. Crickets chirped in the distance, their rhythm punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl.

Ethan, dressed in black like the others, adjusted the collar of his tunic. The fabric was snug, designed for stealth, but he still felt exposed under the vast canopy of stars hidden behind the clouds.

The soldiers moved like shadows themselves, their steps silent on the forest floor. Leaves barely rustled as they passed, their breath measured and controlled. Eliza led the way, her movements precise and confident. Ethan stayed close behind her, his senses on high alert.

The forest was alive with subtle sounds—branches creaking, distant animal calls, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. Every shadow seemed to shift, every noise a potential threat.

Ahead, Eliza raised a hand, signaling for the group to halt. She crouched low, scanning the dense undergrowth. Ethan followed suit, his heart pounding in his chest.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Eliza didn't answer immediately. Her sharp eyes swept the terrain, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword. After a tense moment, she motioned for them to continue.

---

When they reached the shifters' camp, it was eerily quiet. The clearing where tents and makeshift shelters should have been bustling with activity was deserted. The faint embers of a dying fire glowed in the center, casting a weak, flickering light. They were planning to get to the camp together before splitting up according to the plan but from the looks of it, there was nothing here to attack.

Eliza frowned, scanning the area. "I don't understand. They were just here."

"Yes I know. They should be here."

"And we still are," a voice said, smooth and mocking.

From the darkness, figures began to emerge—dozens of shifters, their forms shifting between human and beast. Their glowing eyes gleamed like embers, and their movements were unnervingly fluid.

Ethan instinctively stepped closer to Eliza, his body tense.

The soldiers quickly formed a defensive circle, their weapons raised. Darian barked orders to hold the line, his voice steady despite the overwhelming odds.

The shifters began to close in, their low growls rumbling through the clearing. Ethan's heart raced, but he forced himself to stay calm.

Ethan stretched his hand and materialized a sword of pure energy.

"They knew we were coming. How?"