Vol. III Chapter VI: The Border of Vinfalas

The landscape changed noticeably the closer they came to Yashar’s western border.

The barren, dusty steppe gave way to rolling hills, covered in low shrubs and the first signs of denser vegetation.

The wagons moved slowly. The animals were exhausted, and the refugees even more so. They were still suffering from the hardships of their long captivity.

At last, Liviana gave the signal to stop.

“This is far enough. We’ll wait here until you give us the sign,” she said, jumping down from the wagon.

Melissa stepped up beside her.

“So, you agree?”

Liviana nodded.

“I’ll stay with the others. Someone needs to look out for them while you’re gone.”

Findergwyn joined them without a sound. His eyes were alert.

“The outpost is just beyond the next ridge,” he said. “I know a path, one that the patrols rarely use.”

Liviana gave the elf one last skeptical look before he and Melissa set off.

“This stretch of the borderlands,” Findergwyn whispered, “was once a trade route between Vinfalas and eastern Yashar.”

He pushed aside a low-hanging branch.

“Since the war, it’s become a no-man’s-land. Contested. The Yashari don’t tolerate us and we don’t tolerate them.”

They reached a small rise. From there, they could see the border outpost: a wooden palisade, a watchtower, a few tents, and several armed Yashari.

Melissa narrowed her eyes.

“Not many.”

“Hmm… strange,” Findergwyn murmured. “This area is usually heavily guarded, at least a hundred soldiers.”

“Then I guess today’s our lucky day,” Melissa said, already tensing her muscles.

“Wait! Something’s not right…”

But Melissa was impatient. She didn’t want to waste another second. She’d already been forced to make too many detours. She wanted to cross the border as soon as possible.

“Don’t be paranoid. They probably just redeployed most of their troops for the attack on Tiberun. Just like in Shazar-Zul”

Findergwyn rubbed his pointed chin.

“Maybe… Still, it feels off.”

Melissa was already descending the hill, while the dark elf remained, eyes narrowed on the outpost below.

“Don’t worry,” she said softly. “I’ll take care of them.”

Her amber eyes flashed. Her muscles coiled with tension. Then she vanished silently into the trees.

It took less than two minutes.

A terrified scream tore through the night, followed by a heavy thud. Then another. A third. A clash of steel. Blood sprayed into the air.

Findergwyn counted. Four. Five. Then number six.

He descended the hill.

Melissa stood in the middle of the camp, hands on her hips, unharmed.

The firepit had been trampled, blood soaked the earth. Two of the bodies lay entangled. A third had been hurled into the palisade by a single hoof-strike.

“Well, that’s done,” Melissa said. “We should go get the others and move on before...”

A sharp hiss cut her off. A whip-like spear slammed into the ground at her feet, shattering the soil and throwing dust into the air.

Findergwyn leapt aside, coughing, just barely making it behind a rock.

From the nearby woods, a red mist began to rise. Thick, heavy, like steaming blood.

“Qah’lim as-durah… Sanguis Feroce!”

A vial shattered. The blood inside expanded, forming into a glowing orb that shot toward Melissa, exploding in front of her and slamming her backward against the hillside.

“What in Zeus name...” Melissa gasped as she forced herself upright.

A figure emerged from the darkness.

A wide, crimson cloak draped over him, his face hidden beneath a hood. In his right hand, he held a vial from which a crimson thread dripped to the forest floor.

“A blood weaver,” Findergwyn muttered, face grim. “The Yashari’s sorcerer elite.”

Suddenly, he turned and ran toward the woods, just behind the outpost.

Melissa stared after him, stunned.

“Hey! Get back here, damn it!”

The bloodmage laughed softly, triumphantly.

“Your friend is smarter than he looks. Running is certainly the most reasonable choice right now. But for you, it won’t help.”

Melissa gritted her teeth. Her muscles tensed. Crimson lightning flickered around her as she extended her claws and her eyes colored red.

“Don’t worry. I’m staying.”

The mage smiled, unbothered.

“I am Seral Varza, blood magus of the fifth rank, Keeper of the Essences of Mazzahir, Inquisitor of the Priests of Shazar-Zul. And you… you’re an anomaly I intend to erase.”

He drank an essence, then sliced his hand with a dagger. The blood evaporated midair, leaving behind shimmering glyphs. His voice dropped to a whisper:

“Jurah men’ar. Vox Umbrae.”

He hurled the blood into the air. It morphed into jagged spears that hurtled toward Melissa.

She ducked, spun, leapt in a powerful arc to the side and landed with a thunderous crash. The earth trembled.

Then she charged.

Seral muttered another spell, threw another essence. A wall of frozen blood rose before him, but Melissa broke through it like a battering ram. Her fist crashed into his ribs, hurling him backward into a tree.

He slid down, laughing.

“You’re strong. But Selvarin shouldn’t be this strong. You were born to serve.

And that’s why… I must destroy you.”

A new essence burst.

Dark mist spread, filled with voices and screams: An illusion, but barely distinguishable from reality.

Melissa staggered, clutched her ears. Her eyes burned.

Seral was already preparing his next spell.

“Ferru’nar al-Qhazim!”

The ground beneath her turned soft. Quicksand. Melissa sank, first her hooves, then her entire body.

“Damn it…” she groaned before her head slipped beneath the surface.

For a moment, there was only silence.

The blood mage raised his hand in triumph.

And then, the earth beneath him split open.

With a tremendous force, Melissa shot out of the quicksand, launching herself forward, straight at him.

A brutal hoof strike sent him flying. He crashed into a rock, slid down, and one of his vials shattered, hissing as its contents ate into the stone.

Coughing blood, he staggered to his feet, drank two vials at once, and raised his hands toward her.

“Shah men’ar! Sangscuris!”

A massive beam of burning blood burst forth, glowing like a current of dark red energy.

Melissa braced herself. Her skin burned. Her knees buckled. The tips of her fur smoldered.

She roared, an animalistic bellow that tore the air apart. A last surge of divine power erupted within her.

The ground quaked. Her teeth clenched. One of her horns cracked. Her hair whipped around her like fire.

And then she moved forward.

Step by step, she pushed. Meter by meter. The beam shrank before her will. Her skin scorched, her shoulders smoked.

Terror filled Seral’s eyes as he saw her coming, unstoppable, wrath incarnate.

In desperation, he shattered the last of his essences, bit into his own flesh, blood spreading, and poured all remaining power into the blood-red energybeam.

Melissa staggered, pushed back. Blood dripped from her hands, and only strengthened his spell.

Seral laughed hysterically.

“No matter how strong you think you are, Selvarin! You will always be inferior to the power of our blood! To our gods! To our great Yashar! ALWAYS!”

An arrow hissed through the air. A gust of wind. A single breath.

And the laughter stopped.

The spell collapsed.

His body crumpled to the ground, motionless.

Melissa stood panting, eyes wide. She stared at her enemy: A golden, spiraled arrow buried in his forehead.

Then, from the shadows, Findergwyn stepped out of the trees. Silent.

In one hand, a bow. In the other, another arrow.

Melissa looked up at him, disbelief in her eyes. Her pupils faded. The glow vanished as she transformed back to normal.

“Why so surprised?” he asked casually. “Dark elves don’t miss.”

Melissa snorted, spat out some dirt…

Then collapsed to her knees. Exhausted, but victorious.

“I... need a drink.”

Rain began to fall, just as the final echoes of battle faded.

A fine, cool veil washed the scent of blood from the earth.

Melissa sat in the mud, her face marked, her hair drenched and wild. Her shoulders rose and fell heavily. Her hands still trembled with the aftershock of unleashed power.

Findergwyn stood a few steps away, bow relaxed in his grip. His eyes rested on the mage’s lifeless body, calm, almost thoughtful. Then he slung the weapon over his shoulder, turned, and walked toward her.

“Come,” he said softly. “We need to get back to the others. And cross the border while we still can.”

Melissa nodded, forced herself to her feet. Every step ached, but she smiled, tired, yet unbroken.

“I thought you’d run away,” she murmured.

Findergwyn gave her a crooked grin.

“I would’ve, if I hadn’t found that bow I was looking for.”

And together, they vanished into the rain, back toward the others, while behind them the blood pooled quietly into the soaked earth.

The road to Vinfalas now finally lay ahead of them.