Chapter 3

Climbing the tunnel upward, I heard a few familiar voices right away.

I knew all the wardens stationed at the entrance — just not closely.

Except maybe El.

He was a bit of an oddball too — which meant we got along.

Kristin was barking orders with her usual fire, addressing Madeline’s sworn sister, Heles, and Warden Marcus.

They were heading up front, in charge of early warning if anything went wrong.

Garrel and Elos were busy scrambling to fix loose straps and misaligned buckles after a rather... pointed speech from the captain about "discipline" and “not dressing like drunk recruits.”

Farther back, standing completely still like a sculpture carved by careful hands, was Madeline.

There were many beautiful women in the city — but none like her.

Her features were unusually soft for an elf, her skin a shade paler than most.

Most of her long face was hidden under the cloth she always wore.

Only the tip of her nose, full lips pressed into a tight line, and sharp, furrowed brows were left uncovered.

Her hair — a strange dark chestnut — was tied up in a neat knot, like every other woman in the Watch.

Her gear was heavier and more reinforced than anyone else’s.

The sharp lines of her shoulder armor practically whispered: Don’t test your luck in a fight with me.

Where the armor gave way, it revealed a frame honed for quick, precise, deadly movement.

She’d trained for years to fight without sight.

Even so, the extra plating could be the difference between living and dying when a blade came from the wrong angle.

In her right hand, she held her sword — the one with those strange, etched markings along the blade.

Last time we met, that edge had nearly kissed my skull.

I had no interest in hearing it whistle past me again.

Despite the tension in her shoulders, her posture radiated pure control — more than any words ever could.

I walked up slowly and greeted the group with a simple gesture.

“Well well! Look who actually showed up,” Kristin called out with a smirk.

“The city’s own little sneak. Not scared off after all, huh? You do know there won’t be any taverns or dance music along the way?”

I gave her a matching grin and nodded.

Then I caught it — the faintest twitch of Madeline’s nose as she registered my presence.

Lovely. Already winning hearts.

I stepped closer.

“How are you, Mads?” I said softly.

“You’re not still mad about those dumb jokes, right? If so... well... sorry, I guess...”

She raised one brow.

Didn’t even move.

“I had more important things to worry about than your antics,” she said flatly.

“I get it — it’s hard to talk like a decent elf when your brain’s running on whatever’s left over from someone’s backside.”

I tried to look serious, maybe even a little guilty.

But her insult cracked a grin out of me anyway.

“I just wanted to say... if you ever need help, I’ve got your back.”

A flicker of something passed across her lips — something not quite a smile.

Her brow lifted a little more.

“If I ever need help dragging you out of some mess — like when we were kids — I won’t be counting on you.”

I only smiled in return and wished her good luck for the road ahead.

Honestly? I was satisfied.

First: I didn’t get smacked — solid win.

Second: she mentioned our childhood — that was basically a miracle.

Kristin turned to the others and raised her voice again.

“All right, we’re all here. Grab your packs, supplies, whatever junk you’ve got — we’re moving out.”

She pointed toward the path.

“Hel, Marcus — five hundred steps ahead. Keep your eyes open.

The rest — follow me.”

***

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Our path led south — toward the infamous swamplands.

Once just a foul, miserable stretch of terrain, they’d grown into a real threat over the past year.

Monsters had started appearing, no one knew from where.

They say that before our land was cursed during the civil war, the local flora and fauna were just as vibrant and diverse as the stories tell of other distant regions.

But for as long as I can remember, we’ve lived among bleak hills with thin grass and thorny shrubs, broken only by patches of dark green forest.

These lands have always been harsh.

And now, they’ve become a test — one that only the adaptable could survive.

But for elves like us, shaped by hardship, they became a refuge.

Of course, many tried to leave.

They sought better places — safer corners of the world, especially the northern continent.

Some stayed.

Most came back.

Maybe it was homesickness.

Maybe stubbornness.

Or maybe the rest of the world just didn’t want to deal with the “cursed long-ears.”

If the stories are true, our rulers back then sealed our fate themselves.

They staged a rebellion, trying to seize control over the entire Elven Tetrarchy.

Their campaign carved rivers of blood through the eastern lands, but eventually, they were crushed by the armies of the three other tetrarchs — and their human allies from the Southern Empire.

The rebels were executed.

The eastern territories were absorbed.

And the last scraps of our homeland were declared part of the newly formed Unified Elven Empire under Emperor Kerios.

What remained of us was cut off.

But the young commander of the Northern Army, Raven Kan’Talean, knew what fate awaited the surviving “traitors.”

He fought to save them — to evacuate the innocent, the civilians who’d had no hand in the slaughter.

Kerios had other plans.

By his order, human mages cast a curse so vile it soaked into everything — flesh, roots, and stone alike.

Exiled. Sealed away.

The cursed elves took refuge in a cave — and faced a slow, rotting death.

For months, their kin withered.

Their skin dulled.

Life drained from them, quietly and without mercy.

The plants shriveled.

The animals — those that could flee, did.

The rest died.

Priests, oracles, even those who once scoffed at the Gods, now prayed night and day for mercy.

Then, one day, a few went out in search of food — and found everything around them blanketed in impossibly thick fog.

Following a small stream for fresh water, they discovered its source: a great river that began at a massive waterfall.

The fog came from there.

And somehow — the curse stopped spreading.

It didn’t vanish.

It left its mark — a pale tint on our skin, a hollowness in our soil.

But it held.

A miracle, they called it.

A gift from the Gods.

A chance to live.

And so we did.

Led by Raven, the survivors built a city — Hideout — carved from the stone of the mountains.

And alongside it, they raised three sanctuaries.

Three Gods.

Three saviors:

The God of Water.

The God of Light.

And the Goddess of Darkness.

***

We'd been walking narrow trails between the hills for a good while now, and I was starting to get bored.

I had done a phenomenal job of not saying anything stupid during our brief exchanges.

Even made it through Garrel’s riveting tales about his trip to the border and his deep hatred for the food at the Watch mess hall.

Didn’t say a single snide word.

Honestly, I couldn’t tell which was harder — staying quiet or pretending I gave a damn.

Travel had always been a personal thing for me.

Something done alone, relying on no one.

But here I was, surrounded by elves who treated this like a daily chore.

Garrel spoke like crossing the border was no big deal — just another job.

But the edges of the world?

Those aren’t just lines on a map.

My gaze swept across the hills stretching ahead.

What’s waiting for us out there — past the forest, in the swamp?

Will this be the last time I walk here just as a traveler?

Every now and then, my eyes drifted to Madeline.

She walked steadily beside me and Kris.

The captain noticed.

And promptly elbowed me.

“Well well,” she grinned.

“Where the hell are you looking with those frog-ass-colored eyes of yours? Maybe try watching your step instead?”

The boys nearly doubled over laughing.

Kristin added another charming insult — something extra gross, probably — but it flew past me.

Madeline, luckily, didn’t catch the meaning.

She just kept walking.

Probably for the best.

The joke was good.

But letting that jab land without firing back?

Not an option.

“Captain,” I said, “you seem to know an awful lot about frog asses. Might want to focus on the forest ahead — it’s poking through the mist already.”

“I don’t see Hel or Marcus up there,” Elos said, his tone suddenly more serious.

Kristin’s expression shifted instantly.

She picked up the pace, voice calm but firmer now:

“They’re probably already in the trees, checking the perimeter.

But let’s move faster and confirm that ourselves.”

A bit later, I caught fragments of a conversation between Kristin and Garrel.

They probably thought I wasn’t paying attention.

“You sure it was a good idea to bring him?” Garrel’s voice was quiet, but carried a note I knew well — doubt.

“Not really,” Kris chuckled under her breath. “But let’s see what this scrawny one’s made of.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

Figures.

Not like it was a surprise — even I wasn’t sure I should’ve joined them.

I could’ve stayed in the city like always.

Watched from the sidelines while the world rolled past.

But for some reason, my feet were still walking beside them.

Weird.

I couldn’t quite explain why.

Yesterday, the idea of stepping foot in those swamps hadn’t even existed in my head.

Maybe I was just tired of standing still.

I glanced at Kristin.

“If I’m bothering you so much,” I said with a smirk, “you can just say it, instead of whispering to Gar.”

She turned, lips curled into that familiar predatory smile.

Her eyes lit up — fierce and full of fire.

“Just wondering how long it’ll take before you regret this and start whining to be sent back to Hideout.”

“I’m counting the hours too,” I replied evenly.

“But as you can hear — no whining yet.”

Garrel laughed and clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Well, at least your mouth’s sharp. We’ll see if the rest of you keeps up.”

I just shook my head in response.