Blood

Chapter Fifty: On the Brink

The air crackled with tension as Ethan and the other elves faced off against the shifters. The two sides clashed violently, weapons clanging, bodies colliding, and snarls filling the forest. Shifters, taller and more muscular, wielded curved blades and axes that cut through the elves' ranks with brutal efficiency.

Ethan swung his glowing sword, arcs of pure energy slicing through the attackers, but it wasn’t enough. For every shifter they brought down, two more seemed to take its place. The elves fought valiantly, arrows flying and swords flashing, but exhaustion soon took hold. Sweat dripped from their faces, their movements slowing, while the shifters seemed tireless, relentless in their assault.

Eliza fought alongside them, her own blade spinning as she defended against a shifter's strike. She moved fast, ducking and slashing, but it was clear that her strength was fading. A shifter's axe narrowly missed her, the wind from the swing rustling her hair as she stumbled back.

It wasn't fair.

One by one, the elves fell, beaten down and dragged away. Blood stained the forest floor, the groans of the defeated elves echoing through the chaos. Soon, only Ethan and Eliza remained, standing amidst the carnage, their weapons still raised though their arms trembled from fatigue.

The shifters circled them like predators, their yellow eyes gleaming with victory. The largest of them stepped forward, towering over the others with an air of command. He grinned, revealing jagged teeth, as Ethan placed himself protectively in front of Eliza, slowly backing up.

"What are you really?" the larger shifter asked, turning to Ethan, his voice deep and gravelly.

Ethan’s grip on his sword tightened. “Why do you care?”

"Just curious, that's all," the shifter replied with a dark chuckle. "It'd be cool to know what creature you are before I take you out."

Ethan’s eyes glinted dangerously, his muscles tense as he swung his sword of pure energy in a wide arc. The glowing blade hissed through the air, forcing the shifters to step back a few paces. "And you think I'd let you take us out?"

The larger shifter didn’t flinch. “It doesn’t look like you have much of a choice.”

Eliza, from behind Ethan, glared at their enemies, her breathing ragged. “Why are you doing this?”

The shifter laughed, low and guttural. “One, because we hate elves. Two, because we need more land to expand our population. And three…” He flashed a cruel smile. “Because we can do whatever we want. Hope that answers your questions, princess.”

Ethan stiffened as the shifter continued, his tone mocking. “Your parents were much tougher to kill. It must be embarrassing to call yourself their child when you’re this weak.”

The words struck Eliza like a whip. Her eyes burned with fury as she pushed against Ethan’s back, trying to step forward. “Don’t talk about my parents like that!” she shouted, her voice sharp with rage.

Ethan reached back with one hand and caught her arm effortlessly, holding her in place. “Stop,” he murmured lowly, his voice calm but firm.

Eliza struggled against his grip, desperate to punch the smug look off the shifter’s face. “Let me go!”

Ethan ignored her. His eyes remained locked on the shifter as he let out a slow breath. Then, without warning, he dropped his sword. The weapon hit the ground with a deep thud, and a small explosion erupted from the point of impact.

A thick fog burst outward, rolling through the battlefield like a stormcloud. The shifters stumbled back, shielding their eyes as the dense haze swallowed everything. The hum of energy reverberated in the air, disorienting them.

When the fog finally cleared, Ethan and Eliza were gone.

The large shifter let out an enraged roar, his face contorted in fury. He hurled his weapon to the ground with enough force to crack the earth beneath it. “Cowards!” he spat, his voice echoing through the silent forest.

---

Back at the castle, the quiet was broken by a soft groan.

Gregory’s eyes fluttered open, squinting against the darkness that surrounded him. His head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing at the back of his skull. “Where… am I?” he croaked, his voice hoarse.

A slow, mocking voice answered from somewhere in the shadows. “Oh, you’re awake. That’s nice.”

Gregory’s head jerked toward the voice, his heart sinking. “That doesn’t answer my question. Where am I?”

He tried to move, only to realize that his wrists and ankles were bound tightly to the chair he sat on. Panic flickered in his chest as he glanced down, confirming his predicament. Ropes coiled around him like serpents, digging into his skin.

“Where you’ll be for a long time,” the voice replied, calm and unbothered.

Gregory’s jaw clenched, his mind racing as he strained against the restraints.

“Shit.”