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Vaelorian climbs in, hacking at the chains with a smaller spelled dagger. I stand guard, scanning the chaos around us. Helrath’s group battles near the first wagon, and it looks like we’re gaining the upper hand. Half the dark elf force is down or retreating. Another soldier tries to run for his horse, presumably to fetch reinforcements, but a House Draeven warrior intercepts him.

Shouts ring out as Helrath’s men free more captives from the first wagon. We’re winning. My adrenaline surges, hopeful for the first time in days. If we extract these Vrakken prisoners, we’ll have living proof Xathien is harvesting essence. Our evidence to unite Vrakken Houses might come from these terrified souls.This might be the turning point.

A sudden horn blast echoes from the ridge. I stiffen, whirling to face the sound.Reinforcements?My heightened senses pick out new hooves pounding the dusty pass. My stomach knots.More dark elves?

Vaelorian leaps down from the wagon, eyes scanning the horizon. Dust clouds billow from a far slope as a fresh wave of mounted soldiers pours in. They wear dark elf armor, though different insignias—some from allied Houses, others from scattered clans. My heart seizes.An entire army, or at least the vanguard, arrived faster than we expected.We have no illusions ready for this scale. Our small force is outnumbered.

“Retreat!” Vaelorian shouts to Helrath, voice ringing across the pass. “We have the captives. Fall back!”

We can’t face them head-on. Panic seizes me, but I steady my grip. We gather the freed Vrakken—some too weak to walk unassisted. Soldiers help them onto stolen dark elf mounts. The pass reverberates with incoming enemy hoofbeats. The dust churned by their approach thickens, turning the air gritty.

Helrath’s face is grim as he spurs his horse forward, guiding some of our men up the slope. Others flank the newly freed prisoners. Vaelorian and I remain near the rear, ensuring none of the captives are left behind.

Then a keening horn sounds again, closer, and from the swirling dust emerges a dark elf commander, cloaked in red. He brandishes a barbed spear, eyes locking onto me. Hatred contorts his features. “The half-breed!” he snarls. “Seize her! Lord Xathien wants her alive!”

My heart skips. Suddenly, multiple riders pivot, directing their mounts toward me. Vaelorian bares his fangs—a guttural hiss escapes him. “Run!” he snarls at me. “I’ll hold them.”

I stare, fear choking me. More dark elves gallop in, forming a wedge. If Vaelorian stays, he’ll be surrounded. My mind races,weighing the cost of leaving him.If we both stay, we’re doomed.I clench my fists, hating the choice forced upon me.

But he’s right. My capture is their aim. If I remain, I endanger us all. With a strained cry, I turn, spurring the horse of a fallen dark elf soldier. The creature rears, but I grip the reins and kick it into a gallop, heading for Helrath’s position. The wind whips tears from my eyes.Vaelorian, please survive.

Behind me, the clash of steel and roars of Vrakken magic ring out, echoing across the pass. Dust billows so thick it stings my eyes. I urge the horse faster, navigating the rocky slope. The freed prisoners cluster ahead with Helrath, forging a desperate escape route.

I glance back once, breath snagging in my throat. Vaelorian’s silhouette stands amid swirling dust, blade arcing, wings flaring. The red-cloaked dark elf commander lunges at him, spear flashing. Vaelorian twists aside, a lethal dance of movement. My chest constricts. I can’t lose him, not like this, not after everything.But if I go back, we might both fall.Rage and fear churn in my gut.

Helrath shouts, drawing my attention forward. He motions me to join them on a sloping path out of the pass. A battered Vrakken prisoner clings to Helrath’s saddle, blinking in shock. “Ride!” Helrath barks.

We tear up the path, the horse’s hooves pounding. My heart throbs with each beat, mind spinning with images of Vaelorian surrounded. The pass behind us grows distant, the sounds of battle fading.Please be safe.The vow to come back for him if needed sears my thoughts.

We ascend the ridge, eventually regrouping with half our strike team. Panting, we look back at the pass. Dark elf banners flutter near the base, but no immediate pursuit. Perhaps Vaelorian’s stand delayed them. Helrath dismounts, cursingunder his breath. I slide off my horse, trembling from exertion and terror.

“How many did we lose?” I ask, dread in my voice.

He grimaces. “Four men. Possibly more, if Vaelorian’s group doesn’t break free. But we freed at least ten Vrakken captives from those wagons.” He jerks his chin toward the huddled forms we rescued. Some are unconscious, others moan in pain.

I swallow.We have our proof.The stench of sorrow clings to the air. “And Vaelorian…?” My voice cracks.

Helrath’s jaw sets. “He’s not the type to die easily. He’ll find a way out. We can circle back around and look for him once we secure these captives.”

My pulse claws at my throat, a surge of worry close to drowning me. But Helrath is right: we can’t leave these traumatized Vrakken to fend for themselves. Many can barely stand. My half-breed rage flares at the cruelty inflicted on them.We have to hurry, or more dark elves might swarm us.

I help Helrath lead the group deeper into the ridge, aiming for a hidden ravine that, according to his map, offers a concealed route back to House Draeven territory. The freed prisoners limp along, haunted eyes darting with every sound. My heart aches at their condition—this is what the dark elves do to living beings, and they wanted me for the same reason.

Midway, we pause to tend to injuries. An older Vrakken, skeletal from malnutrition, grips my arm with trembling fingers. “Th-thank you,” she rasps. “They—my family was… gone. They took me for… experiments. We—We heard rumors about a half-breed they sought. That must be you?”

My insides twist. “Yes. I’m sorry you got caught in their search.”

She shakes her head, hollow eyes filling with tears. “Not your fault. The dark elves… they hunger for new magic, anything to exploit. You saved us.” Her voice quivers with gratitude thatbruises my heart.She’s grateful to me, a half-breed, while entire armies want me dead. What a warped world.

We keep moving, the wounded leaning on able-bodied warriors for support. Anxiety digs claws into me. I can’t stop envisioning Vaelorian, left behind in that dusty pass, alone against a wave of dark elves. Anger at him lingers, but I can’t deny how the thought of losing him ignites pure dread.Come back to me, you manipulative, impossible prince.

By dusk, we reach the ravine’s mouth. The path beyond leads to a forest track that should intersect with House Draeven’s territory. My limbs tremble with fatigue, but the rescued Vrakken—though weak—press on, desperate to escape. Helrath dispatches two scouts ahead to ensure the route is clear. I slump against a rock, gulping water from a flask.

“We can’t push all night,” Helrath mutters, scanning the worried faces of the freed prisoners. “But we can’t stay in the open either. We’ll find a concealed glen to camp, keep watch in shifts.”

I nod absently, scanning the horizon behind us. My nerves are raw.Where is Vaelorian?A flicker of guilt gnaws at me for leaving him. Yet he ordered me to flee, to protect me from the dark elf horde. The entire point was to secure these captives as living proof. If he died to ensure that…No.I force the thought away, refusing to believe it.

One of the scouts returns, hurrying down the slope with urgent steps. He beckons Helrath aside. I follow, chest tight. “Lord Vaelorian’s party emerges from the far ridge,” the scout whispers, pointing north. “They’re moving slow—some wounded—but he’s alive.”