As soon as I feel the sun, I wake. With a little practice, we can ask the trunks of these mushrooms to cover us and provide camouflage while we sleep. We Dark Elves are not all magic users, but we do have closer communication with all magical creatures.
While scanning the surroundings for any dead or enemies, my eyes catch a small figure. He was very well hidden in the night—so much so that I scolded myself for not seeing him. I reached for my quiver, ready to put an arrow between his eyes before he advanced further. The beings that attacked us were like that—overconfident. We had made them pay dearly for that mistake. Just then, a gleam reflected off his armor. It was unlike any other. I was sure I recognized it. It belonged to the one who had saved my life.
Several nights ago, my team was eliminating humans. They were not very smart. In a dark place, only idiots wear black—black stands out against black. We were the first hunters of the Dark Elves. Our armor was leather to avoid being heard and to keep us fast. Our arrows had claimed more than thirty enemies when chaos erupted. Several bodies began to rise—it did not matter where they were, in how many pieces they lay, even if their entrails still hung. At that moment, we were not afraid. Not yet. But I saw my people fall at the hands of bodies belonging to both enemies and allies. The shadows made them terrifying. Some humans joined and fought against them. I was ready to leave them when I found myself surrounded by the enemies of my enemies.
Several bodies were close. In such places, using a bow was stupid. I drew a saber—not of the same quality as what humans carried, but sharp enough. With one slash, I cut the nearest one's throat. I only felt a wet impact. The head fell back, but the enemy kept coming after me. The others were close. I could hear their gurgling. They were not speaking—not anything I recognized. Slow but sure, they were surrounding me. My unit had turned them into pincushions. All had managed to climb into the trees—at least I hoped so. I shouted for them to stay there. It was not worth losing several elves to rescue one, even if that one was me. Then I heard him.
Today, in the daylight, he looked very small. But in the night, amid the screams of fear and confused orders, his voice boomed through the forest: "Get away from there, you fools! Mages, what the hell are you doing? Burn those abominations!"
Immediately, I began to see explosions left and right. Some came from human mages—more flame than actual heat. But here and there, as if something was advancing in zigzag, a bolt of lightning, an intense red glow, crackling produced by someone with incredible force. I thought it must be a level ten mage, some ancient elf who had suddenly taken an interest in maces. But what I saw was something else: a dwarf. His eyes held fury. His movements were resolute. He ran toward the keep, but in his path, he eliminated everything that rose from the earth—returned to it by his blows. His one-handed war hammer was too small to make the sounds it did, but when he swung it, it was as if a huge gong resonated. Creatures flew while catching fire. Some—including two that had not yet fallen and were already very close to me—simply exploded with two blows to the chest and hip respectively. Finally, I could see the dwarf clearly. He was one of our Dark Lord's allies. His black armor was dented, and floating scales surrounded him. His arms trembled from exertion. Sweat poured from his face, but his expression was not fear—he was the only one without fear. He was furious.
The rest of the night, I coordinated the retreat to the villages nearest the keep. When Lilith's resistance field activated—another of his allies—many of those creatures were expelled. That allowed us to carry all the wounded. That dwarf—no one knew his name—was a Deathbringer, they told me as they hurriedly carried people. But I saw something else. I saw a protector. All through the retreat, he defended us. The kilometers that remained. When we finally crossed the castle gates, he said nothing. He did not ask for a single reward, not food, not water. He simply withdrew. Everyone was happy. We had survived an enormous catastrophe. Some still thought it was magic from the Dark Lord's allies. I did not believe that. Inside the walls, I saw my people and some allied animals. All had fear painted on their faces. No one could believe we had made it. When our leader told us this was not the Dark Lord's doing, fear turned to despair. Would we fall to the elves again? Would we be slaves once more? The unanswerable questions piled up.
In the following months, I saw him rarely. He was always silent. When he was accompanied, it was by Lilith or that beautiful phoenix that serves the Queen of the Succubi. I did not have the courage to approach him. Then I was sent to night patrols, and the chance to thank him was denied. Today, arriving at the refuge, it took me a while to recognize him. But I must tell him what I feel. He is so strong, so important. He saved my life and my comrades' lives. He cannot leave like this—like an outcast!
Just then, I see a small fleck of black light coming toward me. It is a tiny phoenix. I put out my hand for it to land, but it transforms into a feather. It is a message.
"Go with him," a feminine voice echoes. "We have left food and drink for a long time in your post. Be his shadow. Help him, and you will help your people."
I could not believe it. Indeed, after searching the refuge a little, I found saddlebags containing dried food and two rune lamps. I did not know where he was going. I did not care. I owed him my life. As a member of the Huntress Clan, I would honor his help and follow him—to the end of the world if necessary!