"Nethva Dra'keth," a man grunted as he shoved me forward, my hands and feet bound with thick ropes.
I winced as I dropped to my knees before a large man standing at the entrance to a camp nestled at the foot of a mountain near the borders of the capital.
He wore a long brown coat. A short white beard warmed his chin, and a scar ran across his left cheek. One of his eyes had gone blind. The other bore down on me with a mix of curiosity and contempt.
It had been two days since I escaped the city.
I had been knocked unconscious and captured by the same humans I thought had come to rescue me. They gave me fresh clothes—dirty breeches and a large linen shirt—bound me with ropes, and stuffed me into one of their carts without a word of explanation.
I had barely escaped the elves alive, and now I was trapped again.
Four men and one woman stood beside the captain, dressed in rough clothes and carrying weapons more suited to thieves than soldiers.
They probably were.
They all had that mesmerized look. I had grown used to it over the centuries.
Anyone who saw my snow-white hair, crystal blue eyes, and skin that never seemed to age reacted the same way. Some stared in awe. Some tried to capture and sell me. Others wanted to have their way with me.
It always ended for them the same way it had for that elf soldier.
I needed to get out of here quickly.
The captain crouched in front of me. He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted my face.
I met his oak-brown eye for a moment, my expression carefully still. I swallowed, trembling despite myself.
He tilted my face to the left, then to the right.
He turned to one of his men.
"Va nethva dra'velun," he said.
The man looked at me, then back at his captain. "Dra… vel nethva dra'velun keth'sol. Va keth'sol draven."
The captain studied him for a moment before turning back to me.
"My men tell me you killed an elf single-handedly," he said. "You do not have ears… or eyes like them."
His brow furrowed as he stared more closely.
"It was an accident," I said softly, my voice shaking. "I swear. I'm no warrior."
He watched me for a moment, then turned sharply back to his man.
"Va solun'dra nethven, dra'keth'un!" he barked, telling his soldier I was too weak.
"Vadra'nethven, va keth'dra!" the man shouted back, pointing at me.
The captain stood and grabbed the man by his shirt.
"Vel dra'nethven sol!" I screamed.
Every face in the clearing snapped toward me.
"I am no liar," I said again.
The captain chuckled.
"You speak Mundane Tetaran."
I let out a slow breath and lowered my gaze.
"I'm not from the capital," I said. "I came here three years ago looking for food and a place to sleep. So yes, I speak Mundane Tetaran."
"Well then," the captain replied, "that further confirms you're not one of the hellspawn."
He folded his arms.
"So perhaps you can explain what my soldiers saw that left them all so shaken."
I stayed silent for a moment, glancing around the camp.
"I'm… not an elf," I said quietly, meeting his gaze. "I'm as much a human as the rest of you." I added, my voice shaking. "I… I just got lucky."
The captain's brows knit again. He spun around.
"Bring her." he ordered.
…
The captain's men dragged me through the camp by the ropes that bound my wrists.
The sounds of blades clashing and stone scraping against metal filled the air, along with the smell of stale food and sweating bodies. Black and brown tents crowded the camp, sheltering men, women, and children displaced by the invasion.
The captain walked ahead of me, fists clenched.
"Do you not believe me?" I called after him. "I didn't kill the elf. Another elf did. In their struggle to pin me down, one of them threw him into a tree."
"Now, why should I believe that?" he asked without turning. "First you said it was an accident. Then you said you got lucky. Now you're saying it was another elf."
He threw me a side glance. "Your story doesn't quite make sense."
Silence fell over me.
As much as I hated lying, humans weren't exactly friendly toward otherworldly creatures. I had lived long enough to know that. I couldn't stay here—or reveal my identity—until I was sure it was safe.
I breathed shakily as memories of Diana and Amelia returned. My fingers twisted together as my hands trembled.
"What are you going to do to me?" I asked quietly.
"Ever since the elves appeared in Tetarum, all sorts of strange things have been happening," the captain said. "First the white walls, and now you. Whatever you are."
"The white walls?" I murmured, recalling the strange wall of light that had burst from the ground in the forest.
"There were explosions here and there long before the elves," he said. "But recently, the white walls have started bursting out of the ground wherever those explosions happen. Anyone who touches them is instantly vaporized."
I remembered the elf who had turned to glowing dust the moment the wall touched him.
We stepped into an open area of the camp.
Fighters trained there, groups of warriors clashing swords and axes as they moved across the sand. Some paused to watch us enter the training yard. Others continued practicing, uninterested in our arrival.
The captain crossed to a rack of swords.
"I must determine whether you'll be as much of a problem to us as the elves are."
He selected a blade, turned, and walked back toward me. His men stepped away.
He lifted the weapon high above his head.
"What are you—"
The glint of the blade stopped my tongue.
It fell.
I braced.
A moment passed.
Nothing.
I opened my eyes.
The ropes that bound me had been cut.
I raised my hands and stared at my freed wrists.
The captain dropped the sword into my palms.
I looked up at him.
"What's this?" I asked.
"You're going to fight me." He stepped back.
"I already told you I'm not a warrior!" I said.
"My men said you killed an elf by yourself," the captain replied. "I trust my men. Even with all our weapons and armor, it takes at least three of them to do the same."
He nodded toward the sword in my hands.
"I want to see this if this power of yours is real or not."
"I have no power," I said, my voice dropping.
He took another sword from the rack.
"Well, If you can fight, good for you," he said. "If you truly can't, then you'll die here."
He faced me.
"After all, you would have died at the hands of the elves if not for my men."
He took a stance and pointed his sword at me.
"Take up your sword."
My gaze moved from the silver blade to him, then back down to the weapon in my hands.
I wrapped my fingers around the hilt, brows drawing together.
When I looked up again, he was already in front of me. He had closed the distance in the few seconds it took me to make up my mind.
The blade arced toward my neck.
My breath caught. I dropped low.
The sword sliced past my head.
I pressed both palms to my ears, checking my head was still attached.
A breath of relief left me.
The captain grunted. He twisted his wrist and slashed downward at my left shoulder.
I threw myself into a hard roll. His blade struck stone.
Using the sword as support, I pushed upright and rose to my feet.
I lifted it again, settling into a stance.
He chuckled, his single eye studying me as he paced slowly in a circle.
Then he moved.
His grip tightened on the hilt as he swung upward.
I leaned back, feet dragging through the sand as the blade sliced past my face.
He spun into a horizontal swing.
I deflected the strike with my own blade. Sparks flared as steel met steel, the impact shuddering through my arms.
He drove a fist into my stomach.
It landed.
I gritted my teeth, caught his wrist with my left hand, and yanked him forward before slamming my forehead into his.
He staggered back with a groan.
Around us, the fighters in the training yard stopped and turned their attention to the fight.
The captain straightened and resumed his circle, swinging his sword loosely.
"I thought you were no warrior," he said with a taunting smile.
I panted lightly, then steadied myself. "I've never wielded a blade against a real enemy before. But I've trained."
Amelia had been my master.
She always carried a violent glint in her eyes, the kind that spoke of a hunger for blood. With techniques passed down through her family, she had served as a soldier in the Tetaran army. They fought the elves for as long as they could.
She fought to protect me and Diana.
But in the end, she was only human.
"Let me guess," the captain said, planting the tip of his blade into the ground.
"Your mentor was like family to you. You loved them dearly, and when the elves attacked…" He tilted his head slightly. "They killed them."
My jaw tightened. My breathing slowed, grew audible.
He dragged his blade across the sand.
"And you were too afraid to fight back. You watched them die, and then you ran." He kept pacing. "All the training they gave you…"
He stopped and fixed his gaze on mine.
"Wasted."
I lunged, roaring.
My hands clenched the hilt as the blade sliced toward his face.
He ducked and rammed his fist into my side.
I didn't move.
Twisting my wrist, I sent the blade snapping toward his neck.
He leaned back just in time.
Amelia's face flashed through my mind.
I grunted and swung again.
He blocked.
Our blades collided with a crack of steel, sparks bursting between them. He gritted his teeth and stepped back under the weight of the strike.
We circled across the training yard, forcing the other warriors to scramble out of our path as the clash of our weapons echoed through the air.
Dust rose beneath our feet.
Some of his men had gathered along the edge of the yard, murmuring as they watched.
I swept my leg toward his ankles.
He leaped into the air, flipping backward.
I spun and drove my heel toward his jaw as I rose.
He shifted, my strike missing his chin by an inch.
My foot hit the sand.
I thrust my blade forward.
White light coated the edge of the sword.
His eye widened.
He sidestepped, but the blade still nicked his neck.
He drove his fist into my stomach with full force.
I lurched forward, coughing.
His next blow slammed into my left cheek, sending me staggering.
He rushed toward me, right fist cocked.
I breathed slowly as heat spread through my body.
Images from that night swept through my mind.
Diana's body torn apart by the elves.
Amelia's tear-filled eyes as she drew her last breath.
I groaned and clutched my ears as pain tore through my skull.
Light spread across my entire body. Steam rose from my skin.
The captain threw his punch.
I slipped beneath it.
We were face to face now, close enough that I could see the fear entering his eye for the first time.
I pulled my right fist back, prepared to put a hole in his chest.
He stepped away quickly, panting, sweat cutting down his forehead.
"That's enough," he said, raising his palm.
"Huh?" The light around me faded.
I looked down at my fist, the realization hitting me like cold water.
I almost killed him.
I almost killed a person.
"We've established that you can fight," the captain said.
I looked up.
"We've also established that you're no ordinary human," he added. "Lucky for you, I happen to like extraordinary people."
He paced around me, his blade resting on his left shoulder.
"The reason you were running from the elves is because you've never used those skills in a real fight. Your trainer may have taught you how to wield a sword, but they never taught you courage."
My jaw worked but nothing came out.
"But it's clear you hate the elven bastards as much as we do," he continued. "And we could use someone like you for what we're about to do next."
I said nothing.
"My name is Corven Eldran," he said. "Captain of the Wanderers and protector of this camp."
He extended his right hand.
I looked at it for a moment.
I thought about the terrible things that followed me wherever I went. The death and destruction left in my wake.
There were enough innocents here that I knew I couldn't stay long.
But I needed the food. The shelter.
And, admittedly, the company.
I steadied myself and took a breath. "Aurelia Angelborne." I took his hand and gripped it firmly.
He smiled.