The Elf and the Mortal

The Elf and the Mortal (Part 8)

Chapter 8: Shadows arriving.

The glow from the Heartstone pulsed like a heartbeat in the darkened cabin, its light spilling in uneven waves across the walls.
Merana's eyes were locked on it, her grip tight on her sword hilt.

"Stay behind me," she told Reiner, her tone not sharp, but resolute — a tone that didn't leave room for argument.

Outside, the forest was too quiet. No wind, no insects, no distant owls. The air felt heavy, almost expectant. Reiner followed her into the night, his bare feet brushing against the cold grass, every muscle in his body tense.

Then he saw him.

A figure stood in the clearing, perfectly still, as if he had been waiting for hours. His hood shadowed most of his face, but moonlight caught on the faint curve of metal strapped to his hip.

Merana's voice cut through the silence.

"Show yourself."

The man obeyed, pulling back the hood with unhurried grace. Silver hair spilled out, darker at the tips, falling over a pale scar that split his lip. His eyes were the color of frost — cold, sharp, and merciless.

When he spoke, his voice was smooth and steady, each word deliberate.

"Six months. That's how long you've been running."

Merana took a step forward, her sword sliding free with a clean whisper of steel.

"If Veylan sent you—"

"—then you already know how this ends," he interrupted. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, though it held no warmth.
"You should have stayed in the palace, princess."

He moved without warning. The clash of their blades rang out like a thunderclap in the still night, sparks scattering in the dark. His strength was brutal; the first impact sent a jolt through her arm and forced her back a step.

Reiner flinched at the violence, but before he could move, Merana's voice lashed out:

"Stay inside!"

The man's gaze flicked to Reiner, and for a split second, his eyes narrowed in calculation.

"Ah..." His tone shifted, slow and almost amused.
"So that's it. The human. The reason you're hiding here."

Merana's sword sliced toward him, forcing him to block, but he spoke between strikes, his words carrying a dangerous weight.

"The boy carries it. The Key."

Reiner froze.

"He knows about the key...?"

The man's cold eyes didn't leave Merana's face.

"If the Key is here... then the Era of Gates is already upon us."

Merana's jaw tightened.

"You'll not touch him."

The clearing erupted in steel and magic. Merana moved like water — swift, fluid, precise — her strikes humming with bursts of shimmering energy. The man matched her effortlessly, his footwork perfect, his counters relentless.

A slash opened the skin along her forearm, blood blooming against her pale skin. He didn't slow, didn't blink.

"Still predictable," he said, almost bored. "Still soft. Veylan will be... disappointed."

Ignoring her orders, Reiner snatched up a fallen branch and charged. His swing was clumsy but desperate.

The man barely glanced at him — sidestepping, kicking his legs out from under him in a single motion. Reiner hit the ground hard, and the cold flat of a blade pressed against his throat for the briefest moment.