The disturbing scent of blood permeated the air—thick, coppery, oppressive, and stale. Eliana hated it with every fiber of her being. She hated how it made her stomach churn, how the faces of her now-dead brethren were all that she could see; hated how their screams had echoed around her, ringing through her ears until it had been the only sound she could remember hearing since they'd arrived at Zin-Azshari. More than anything else, she hated the ripples of agony and death that constantly passed through her, leaving her with a lingering, all-encompassing sense of loss.
So much death. So much destruction.
Even after days of fighting and struggling to stay alive, there still seemed to be no end in sight. She'd said a prayer for every soldier she could not save in time, and by this point, she couldn't remember how many times she'd done so. Every time her lips formed the now all-too familiar words, it was almost as if her mind went elsewhere, unable to process the fact that she was saying goodbye to yet another brother.
Eventually, the weight of it all would come crashing down on her, and she'd give in to the grief. But with the demons still coming, unrelentlessly trying to eradicate her people forever, it would not—could not—be now.
As her dagger sliced into the red flesh of the hulking, colossal demon that stood in front of her, she let out a strained, but determined cry. Despite how drained she felt, she knew she had to keep going, no matter how exhausted her body might be, no matter how much her mind was at its end.
She would not die today.
The demon retaliated by stomping its cloven hoof, causing the ground to tremble enough to knock her off balance. As she fought to regain her stance, it raised the ax in its hand to cleave her in two. Before it could bring its arm back down, the appendage was enveloped in a vivid crimson glow. Tendrils of slowly darkening red twisted around its forearm before winding their way up to the joint of the demon's shoulder.
Eliana watched as the red shade deepened to an inky black, and unexpectedly, the demon's arm was severed. It let out a howl of acute pain, cradling the bleeding stump of its shoulder with crazed eyes. From behind the demon, a familiar blade appeared and sliced across the demon's neck, ending its wretched life.
When the corpse crashed to the ground with a thud, Cytheas was standing atop its back with a grim expression on his face.
"Eliana, are you all right?" he cried, hopping off the demon's back and sprinting over to her. Relief flooded through her at seeing that he was still alive, until he spoke again. "What were you thinking, taking on one of these on your own? It takes at least three of us to kill one."
Normally, his concern would've touched her, but the condescending tone it was delivered with set her on edge. It likely didn't help that neither of them had slept in the past forty-eight hours, and everyone was running on fumes. That, and the fact that the last conversation they'd had, had been in a similar vein. It was one thing to worry about one another. It was a completely different matter for him to believe that she was incapable of keeping herself alive on the battlefield.
Clearly, she wasn't dead yet. What had he been thinking she was doing out here? Picking peaceblooms?
Irritated, she spat, "I had it, Cytheas. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been handling myself just fine."
Remembering that they were in the midst of a battle where either of them could die without notice, she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she opened them once more.
"But thank you for helping me," she added quietly. His harsh expression softened and he nodded before gently touching her elbow. When she nodded in response, he turned and ran back into the fray.
Now that there was a lull in the battle, after Cytheas disappeared from her view, she scanned the frontline for any signs of Illidan or the Moon Guard. As much as Cytheas had dealt the final blow to that demon, she knew he hadn't done it all; there was no doubt that the red glow had been a spell, and she suspected that it had been Illidan's doing. She'd seen him cast a similar spell back towards the start of the battle.
Finally, she spotted him a few yards away at the forefront of the Moon Guard, barking commands and pointing at the cluster of demons over the hill. Once the group dispersed, he glanced up and caught her eye. The corner of his lips curled up in a slight grin, and she shook her head with a sigh as she stalked over to him.
"Eliana, I'm glad to see that you're alive and well," he murmured once she reached him.
"I'm sure that you are, considering you're keeping an eye on me. While I appreciate it," she reached out and touched his forearm ever so slightly, "you should worry more about yourself."
"I'm perfectly all right, Eliana."
"Yes, and so am I," she tried to convince him, in a firm but kind voice.
With a stern look, he studied her face for a long moment. His expression was undecipherable, but she wasn't so sure that it was a good expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, a shrill horn blared throughout the forest. It was a warning from Lord Ravencrest's personal horn—by now, she'd recognize the sound of his call in an instant.
They both glanced towards the palace, and Eliana felt the blood rush from her face at the sight of more demons pouring out of the gates. The entire Night Elven force shifted, and one-by-one, they all stared up at the horrific sight of what once had been a place of such comfort and pride. A place that was now the source of what was shaping up to be the end of everything they knew.
"Will it ever end?" she whispered, feeling more discouraged than she had a few minutes ago.
It had seemed like their forces were gaining the upper hand. Somehow, they'd all managed to beat back the demons, whittle down their numerous ranks and begin to push them back towards the palace gates. With the new wave that was rapidly approaching them, it seemed many of her brethren shared her sense of hopelessness. As she glanced around at what little remained of their own ranks, she let out a long, crestfallen sigh.
How many more of them would perish before the end of the day?
Illidan, however, did not seem to be of the same opinion. His hands clenched into tight fists as he watched the approaching horde. To their right, along the treeline, Eliana heard rustling that immediately had her grip tightening on her daggers. Before she could face the incoming threat, Illidan threw a spell in the direction of the sound, and Eliana heard the gurgle of a dying demon. Its corpse came bursting out of the trees and fell to the ground, causing its now-decapitated head to roll to the side.
Illidan must've cast the same spell he'd used on the demon she'd been fighting earlier, and after staring at the severed demon head with dispassionate eyes, she looked back at Illidan's profile. He'd always been willing to do what needed to be done in order to succeed, despite the cost, but she'd never pegged him as cruel. This particular spell was more gruesome than she'd guessed he could be, but war did things that changed people in irrevocable ways. Even she herself had made calls she never would've thought she'd make before they'd arrived at the capital.
Everything was different now.
A few seconds after Eliana had faced him again, Illidan straightened, pushing his shoulders back with renewed determination. With a tense jaw and hands still clenched at his sides, he muttered, "Let them come."
Hours later.
Eliana wiped off the viscous blood that saturated her daggers on her thigh before looking back up at the battlefield. Demon blood could be anywhere in the spectrum from a brilliant blue, to a neon green, to a deep, twisted ebony that sent shivers running down her spine. She'd killed so many by this point that she could hardly tell what color her blades were now.
While the Night Elven troops had managed to somewhat lessen the oncoming horde, the demons kept coming their way. No matter what they did, or how hard they fought, it seemed as if the enemy's forces were limitless. There was no way they could continue fighting forever. Eventually, they would tire, or morale would disappear completely, and that would be the end of the Night Elven race.
As much as she hated to admit it, even just to herself, she was worried they were already at that point. More often than yesterday, and even the day before, she could feel the waves of death threatening to overtake her. The first day, they'd come sparingly—perhaps one every few hours. Now, she could feel souls passing through in multitudes, all throughout the hour.
It was too much—far too much.
When she felt the warmth of yet another life die out, like the wick of a candle being extinguished far too early, she clutched at her chest as a tear slid down her cheek. She would give anything to allow her people to live, to survive this horrific war. Anything.
How could Elune simply stand by and watch her children perish so needlessly?
As she stood there, fighting to regain her composure, Illidan's voice carried across the field. She glanced up at the familiar sound, searching for his broad-shouldered, strong figure. He came into view just down the hill, as he gestured frantically between the Moon Guard and himself; his expression was pinched into one of extreme concentration. Every remaining member of the Guard—which admittedly, was not much—raised their arms and pointed them towards Illidan.
Sparkling tendrils of magic floated through the air, twisting together into a single, prismatic rivulet of power. It arced and ebbed towards him, taking a path all on its own. Once the glowing stream of magical energy hit him in the center of his chest, he closed his eyes, taking in the concentrated, multiplied strength of his peers.
When he next opened them, they seemed to blaze brighter than she'd ever seen them glow. With seemingly renewed determination, he spun around and faced the demons once more. He lifted his now-illuminated hand to cast a spell, and once the coil of combined energy left him, the entire front line of the demons erupted in a consecutive heap of gore and death.
She cringed at the gruesome display of strength, but had to admit that despite the grim method, the Moon Guard did produce results.
Distracted by the awe-inspiring spell, she hadn't heard the rapid stomping of a felhound racing up behind her. The beast's hooves collided with her back, sending them both sprawling over the crest of the hill. They tumbled towards the plains below, and every time her elbows collided with the ground, she cringed in pain.
Finally, they crashed to a halt. Not willing to give the creature the upper hand a second time, Eliana nimbly bowed her body so that she rolled right back onto her feet. After placing her daggers at the ready, she crept towards the immobile felhound, waiting for it to make a move. It was playing dead, she knew that for certain. It took more than a tumble down the hillside to kill these unnatural beasts.
When she was only a few feet away, the end of one of its horns sliced into her right forearm. She hissed in pain as she almost dropped the dagger in that hand, before she tightened her grip and returned the attack. Her blade caught the end of a tentacle, and the severed appendage fell to the ground as the felhound let out a sharp, wailing cry.
It rose up from the ground, and its head swiveled around to stare in her direction. She couldn't tell where its eyes were, but she knew it could see her. Its mouth slowly opened, revealing rows upon rows of sharpened teeth. Drool oozed out of the gaps between its fangs, and she suppressed a disgusted, fearful shudder.
This was the first felhound she'd faced on the battlefield. Somehow, she'd managed to avoid them and deal only with the bipedal demons; it seemed as if most of the hounds aimed for the sorcerers. She'd been farther up the hill since the start of the battle, since Cytheas had placed her closer to the center of the ranks. Once the troops had spread out, she'd inadvertently remained farther back from the front line.
Now that their ranks were dwindling, she had no idea where she was in the formation. Considering the sudden appearance of the felhound, she assumed she was closer to the sorcerers, and Illidan, than she'd initially thought. Especially after their tumble down the hill.
The felhound darted forward, leaping from the ground with its muscular hind legs. At the last second, she rolled to the side and sliced upwards with her dagger, managing to land a hit just above the beast's ribs. It let out a howl and rounded on her again, rolling its body like a sabercat would to rid itself of moisture in its fur. It was an odd action for a demonic creature, and Eliana watched it warily, unsure of what it would do next.
Without warning, it barreled towards her, angling its body so that one of the two massive spikes that jutted out from its torso was aimed in her direction. Quickly, she backpedaled, trying to give herself more space to come up with a plan of defense before the hound reached her. Before she knew it, it was upon her, knocking her to the ground with a solid hoof.
Acute pain radiated from her ribs, and she worried that it may have broken one. She hit the ground hard, and the air whooshed out of her lungs upon impact. Shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the dizziness, she glanced up just as the felhound was arcing through the air towards her.
Panic flooded through her, and she groped along the ground for one of her daggers. When she couldn't find it, she decided to take a chance and twist her body around to search for it. It was laying on the ground not far from her, and she desperately lunged for it. Her fingertips had just barely grazed the pommel when the felhound latched onto her boot, tugging her towards itself, and farther away from her weapon.
One of its fangs sank into her foot, and she cried out before gritting her teeth. Facing forward again, she attempted to kick it in the side of the head with her other foot. Her attack did nothing, and as it scrambled up her body, she tried to shimmy backwards, away from it. It pinned her abdomen with its hooves, and she grunted in pain when it grazed her ribs once more. When it was just over her face, a wave of hot, rotting breath swept over her and she gagged at the smell.
Desperately, she reached up and grabbed its jaw, trying to push it away from sinking its fangs into her face. It continued to snap at her, seemingly wanting nothing more than to tear her to pieces.
Out of nowhere, it let out a pained yelp and reared its head back. When it twisted its head around to glance over its shoulder, she followed its gaze, surprised to find Illidan approaching them with his hand outstretched.
He threw out another spell, and when it hit the felhound in the side, it staggered back, off of Eliana. She took this opportunity to flip around and scramble across the ground towards her weapons. When she was mere inches away from her dagger, she heard an angered squeal, followed by the sound of the felhound racing towards her. The second her fingers wrapped around the handle of her blade, she faced forward again and thrust it upwards. The felhound fell onto her blade, impaling itself and spattering its blood all over the front of her armor.
It gurgled, and she grabbed her other dagger from the ground, driving it up through the felhound's jaw. Once it slumped over, finally dead, she threw its corpse aside and fought to catch her breath.
Her hands shook, and unable to get her tremors under control, she set her daggers in her lap before clasping her hands together. Illidan ran into view, crouching down to her eye-level as she watched his lips move. Clearly he was saying something, but Eliana couldn't hear anything over the deafening sound of her heartbeat.
When she didn't respond, he furrowed his eyebrows before reaching out and cradling her cheek. Still, she couldn't bring herself to move, unable to do anything else aside from staring into his eyes.
"...ana… Eli...Eliana!" His other hand came up and rested on her other cheek. All at once, it was like the sounds of the entire world came crashing back to her. "Eliana, can you hear me? Are you hurt?"
"No, I—I'm fine," she murmured.
"You're covered in blood," he argued, placing his hands under her elbows to help her rise to her feet.
"It's not mine. At least, I don't think it is."
"Are you in pain anywhere?"
At the mention of pain, the dull throb in her side flared to life again, and her hand flew to cradle her ribs. "I think one of my ribs may be fractured."
"I don't know where the healers have gone. Someone in the Moon Guard may be able to help. Come," he instructed, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders as he started to guide her towards the group just ahead.
Indignant for whatever reason, she shrugged his arm off and insisted, "I can heal myself."
"Not in your condition. If you try to cast or...plead with Elune—whatever it is you priestesses do—you'll likely collapse."
Miffed at his downplay of her role, her faith, she faced him with a glare. "We heal, Illidan. We provide hope for peace, and—"
He reached out and grabbed her hand, interrupting her. "I'm sorry, Eliana, I was not trying to say it wasn't important. But you need real assistance. I don't think a simple prayer to Elune will be enough to mend your wounds."
At first, she opened her mouth to retort, until she realized he was right. The sharp pain in her side was gradually worsening, and she knew she needed medical attention before she could get back into the fight. Yes, she could have healed herself, if she was in peak condition. Illidan hadn't been exaggerating or lying when he said she couldn't handle it right now; she would lose consciousness if she tried to do anything that intensive.
"Very well," she conceded with a sigh.
He nodded before winding his arm around her waist, helping her walk the rest of the way towards the Moon Guard. The flame-haired human, Rhonin, was standing beside one of the members, deep in conversation. She'd been surprised to see him in Lord Ravencrest's tent back at the camp, but considering he was still alive and well—albeit covered in various shades of blood and dirt—he must've been a far more skilled sorcerer than she initially thought he was.
Rhonin glanced in their direction as they approached, and when they stood just beside him, he swiftly ended his conversation to face them. "Eliana, Illidan, I am glad to see that the both of you are well." When his gaze shifted lower across Eliana's body, he met her eyes—this time, with cinched brows. "Or am I mistaken?"
Illidan shifted her weight in his arms before replying, "She believes a rib may be fractured."
"Felhounds are…" Eliana trailed off, wincing when Illidan's elbow bumped her side.
He murmured a quiet apology, while Rhonin nodded in agreement. "They're not the most pleasant of creatures to interact with, for certain. Equally as unfortunate is the fact that I do not specialize in the art of healing. I could attempt to cast a spell, but the risk of what may happen is, in my opinion, not worth it."
Illidan grimaced slightly before stepping in front of Eliana. "Can you hang on until we can find a proper healer?"
"I suppose I'll have to," she replied, cradling her side. "I can manage a small spell for now. It should tide me over until it can be bound."
Though he didn't appear to be happy with their options, it was unfortunately, as Rhonin said, their only option. The mage looked thoughtful for a moment, until he suggested, "Why don't you go ask one of the soldiers? They may not have dedicated healers, but I'm sure someone in their ranks will be adept enough at tending to a fractured rib."
"A fair point. I—" Illidan began to agree, until Rhonin looked over his shoulder with a troubled, dark expression.
"Another throng of demons is approaching. Go, I'll buy you some time." He raised his arm, ready to channel a spell.
A quick glance back in the direction they'd come from proved that Rhonin was right, and Illidan and Eliana quickly shuffled in the direction of Lord Ravencrest's banner. She'd always thought that was ostentatious and unnecessary to carry a massive flag into the throes of battle, but now, as they sought out the commander's best soldiers, it didn't seem quite as ridiculous.
About half way there, the pain in her side increased exponentially, and she whimpered in surprise at the sudden onslaught of pain. Illidan paused in mid-step and pulled his arm away, placing his palm softly against her side.
"What is it?" he questioned, brows tight with concern.
"It just...the pain's intensified. I'm not sure I can make it all the way over there."
He held her gaze in silence for a few seconds, until he nodded. After glancing at their surroundings, he pulled her aside into the treeline. It didn't offer much shelter, but at least they were out of immediate view of any enemies. "Very well. I'll have to do what I can, then."
"Y-You? Can you heal?" Eliana sputtered.
"No, I can't. But what I can do is going to have to suffice."
He pulled off the band securing his high ponytail, letting his ebony locks fall free. They framed his face, thick and wild, and as inappropriate as the timing was, all she wanted to do was run her hands through the long strands. She'd never seen his hair down, and the fact that it was and he was within reach, was putting wholly improper thoughts in her head. The forest was oddly quiet, considering what was happening mere yards away, but the silence amplified her train of thought.
"Hold this," he instructed, handing her the leather band before shrugging off his leather jerkin.
All he wore underneath his armor was a thin linen shirt, once cream-colored, but now saturated with dirt and sweat. A quick spell, murmured under his breath, rid the shirt of any stains. With it now pristine and free from contamination, he placed it in his mouth and bit the seam, ripping the shirt into small strips. Once he was finished, he gestured to Eliana's own armor.
"Take that off so I can see your ribs."
"I...I—But you—"
"Eliana, we don't have time for you to be shy. I need to bind your chest as tightly as possible so that you don't further damage your ribs until we can find a true healer," he explained, sounding impatient.
Face burning, she fiddled with her fingers for a few seconds until she let out a short sigh. "Fine," she mumbled, unlacing the front of her armor before pulling it from her shoulders.
Now she stood in nothing but her thin undershirt. As she moved to pull it over her head, it tugged on her side and she hissed in pain. Illidan shuffled forward and pressed his fingers against her side, grunting in concern when he touched her skin.
"It wasn't just your rib that took the blow; you've a gash in your side that's crusted over."
"Wonderful," she muttered, arms still up in the air with her shirt covering her face.
Something wet and slightly cold touched her side, and once the dried blood had been saturated, Illidan pulled the shirt completely off. She lowered her arms, crossing them over her chest to block her brassiere from his view. She was certain it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before, but he'd never seen her like this, and that made it completely different.
Thankfully, Illidan's gaze didn't linger and he prodded her wound, occasionally humming in thought. "I can't heal your wound, but we can still bind your ribs. Hope that it isn't already infected."
"As if it could get any worse."
"It always can, Eliana," he replied, his eyes flickering up to hers before returning to the task at hand. Feeling thoroughly reprimanded, she didn't reply.
He grabbed a strip of linen, reaching behind her to wind it around her midsection. When he'd brought it back around to meet the other side, he instructed her to hold it in place. She acquiesced, and he grabbed another strip, repeating the motion until they were all gone and her ribs were swathed in linen.
After grabbing the leather strap from her other hand, he wrapped that around her as well, securing it over the wound with a quick knot. Once he was finished, he stepped back and asked, "Does it feel loose at all?"
A quick bend from side to side proved it to be secure, and she replied, "No, it feels fine."
"Good. Get dressed, and we'll see if we can't go find Cytheas."
She'd been leaning over to pick up her shirt when he said that, and she paused in mid-air. "Do we have to tell him?"
"Yes, we do. So he can keep an eye out for a healer that can assist you."
Inwardly, she groaned. She'd never hear the end of it from him, once he found out she'd been injured. Technically, she wouldn't even call it an injury—she was barely nicked. Cytheas would most certainly see it differently.
Once she had her armor re-fastened, they stepped out of the treeline and back into the chaos of the battlefield—though it was thankfully not as hectic as it had been a few hours ago. They'd only taken a few steps when Cytheas came bursting out of the group to their left.
"I am entirely not surprised that we didn't have to go far before he showed up," Illidan murmured.
"He means well," Eliana mumbled in response.
"I know, that's exactly what I meant."
By then, Cytheas had reached them, and he grasped Eliana's upper arms tightly in his grip—a bit too tightly. "Eliana! I spoke with Rhonin and he'd said you were injured. Where? Is it bad?"
"Cytheas, slow down. A felhound managed to catch me in the side with its hoof. I'm fine."
"That's not entirely true," Illidan commented.
She turned and glared at him, and he shrugged unapologetically before continuing, "Her rib may be fractured, but the demon happened to cut her. The wound isn't too deep, but it will need tending to before long."
"That's hardly 'fine', Eli," Cytheas reprimanded. He turned her before inspecting her side, surprised to find he couldn't see anything. "Well, where—"
Illidan interrupted him and said, "We already took care of it. You can worry about it later. For now, we've got company."
He pointed up at the palace, in the direction of an approaching group of demons. Two felhounds led the charge, and three of the horned demons that she'd faced earlier were right on their tails. Eliana hadn't realized how close they'd gotten to the palace since she'd come tumbling down the hill, and the knowledge sent a fresh wave of anxiety rolling through her.
Somehow, being on the same level as the encroaching horde seemed so much worse than being up above on the hill. She clenched the hilts of her daggers tightly, and Cytheas and Illidan moved in front of her to take point.
Cytheas glanced over her shoulder at her, and asked, "Can you fight in your condition?"
"I'm going to have to," she replied, her gaze locked on the colossal horned demons.
Cytheas and Illidan shared a glance before Cytheas said over his shoulder, "We'll do the best we can to protect you."
Instead of the usual irritation she felt at being coddled, gratitude swept through her, and she nodded.
Before they knew it, the demons were upon them. Illidan cast a spell that froze one of the felhounds in place, and Cytheas charged forward at it, slashing downwards to sever one of its tentacles. Rooted in place by Illidan's spell, the felhound had no choice but to suffer from their combined strength.
While the males were occupied taking down the first felhound, the second circled around them and fixated its gaze on Eliana. She gripped her daggers with sweaty palms, focusing on keeping her breathing even for when it finally pounced on her. Without warning, it darted forward and leapt into the air, heading straight for her face.
Using its momentum against it, she ducked and rolled forward. The felhound sailed over her and landed a few feet away, swiveling back around faster than she'd expected it to. This time, though, she was ready. When it dove for her, she feinted to the side and slashed at its underbelly, narrowly avoiding the end of one of its tentacles.
Cytheas must've sliced off the tentacle first for a reason, so when the felhound turned its head away, she spun and severed a tentacle on her own enemy. She didn't want to find out what happened if the end touched her.
Her swing landed her off-balance, however, and when the felhound ran for her again, she wasn't able to dodge it. Just like the first one she fought, it tackled her to the ground. She heard her daggers fall to the ground, and swore inwardly at her possibly fatal mistake—the same one she'd made earlier.
The felhound's jaws snapped inches away from her face, and its acidic drool dripped down onto her chest, though she hardly registered the slight sting. A quick glance told her that Cytheas and Illidan had dispatched their felhound, but were currently occupied trying to take down one of the larger, bipedal demons.
She was on her own.
With a strained grunt, she pushed against the felhound's inhuman strength and determination to bite her head off. When one of its fangs grazed her chin, she panicked and cried out in fear.
Was this it? Was this the way she would perish?
Just when she'd resigned herself to her fate, a sudden surge of immense energy and power rushed through her. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she felt warm, comforted, as if a lost friend or family member had returned to her.
Confused, but by no means willing to waste this opportunity, she let out a fierce cry and shoved the felhound off of her. It landed beside her on its back, scrambling to get back onto its feet. With hurried motions, she scrambled over to her daggers and swiped them off of the forest floor, grasping them in her hands once more.
When she turned around, the felhound had recovered and was pacing around her, watching her. She followed its motions, shifting in place to stay face-to-face with her enemy. This time, when it rushed her, she ran to meet it, unleashing a frenzied attack with her weapons. The felhound was forced to switch tactics, unwilling to meet the edges of her daggers willingly.
It tried to jump to the side, but she followed it, taking advantage of her renewed strength. With another cry, she drove one of her daggers into the thick hide of the felhound's side. It cried out in pain; the sound was a sharp, keening one. In one fluid motion, she spun around and sliced upwards with her other dagger, cutting into the felhound's throat.
Its putrid blood spilled out onto the ground, tainting the veridian moss of the forest floor. After yanking her other dagger out of its side, she drove it down into the felhound's skull, finally killing it.
With a thud, its body collided with the ground. Her chest heaving, Eliana wiped the sweat from her brow before frantically searching the battlefield for Cytheas and Illidan.
Apparently, the unsuspected wave of energy had affected their entire race, not just her. The pair of warriors had already dispatched the demon she'd seen them fighting earlier, and were now attempting to kill the remaining two on their own. Cytheas had taken the one with slightly darker skin that was such a deep red, it reminded her of coagulated blood. Illidan had taken the other—the one with slightly longer, more curved horns. It roared at him, revealing elongated, sharp fangs.
A shiver wracked her spine before she shook her head in frustration. Fear had no place on this battlefield, and she fought to suppress it as she sprinted off to join them.
Keeping her speed up, she fell into a slide when she reached them, slicing the tendons of the demon Illidan was fighting with. It crumpled to the ground in surprise, letting out a howl of pain. When it looked over its shoulder and snarled at her, Illidan took the opportunity to wind a spell around its throat, and the powerful aura that surrounded him caused the ends of his hair to flail in the unnatural wind. Eliana watched as the demon's face slowly became darker, and eventually, it asphyxiated, collapsing to the ground in a heap.
He nodded at her, apparent relief flooding his expression when he took her appearance in. She returned the gesture, feeling much the same when she realized that he didn't seem to be injured in the slightest. They both rounded on the demon Cytheas was finishing off, gauging whether he needed their help or not.
Within seconds, Cytheas had hooked his arm around the demon's massive bicep and swung himself around its body, using his momentum to reach around and slice its neck. It was much the same way he'd killed the demon Eliana had faced on her own, all those hours ago.
When both of his feet were back on solid ground, he looked up at them and quickly walked over to join them. "What exactly was that wave of energy we felt?"
"I've no idea," Eliana murmured.
"Neither do I, but I'm not complaining in the slightest," Illidan added.
Out of nowhere, the sound of Lord Ravencrest's voluminous, commanding horn rang out throughout the ruins of the capital. All around them, the remaining droves of demons retreated to the palace gates. A few of Ravencrest's warriors followed after them, picking off the stragglers that lagged behind.
When Illidan spotted them, he surged forward, newfound energy in his eyes. "They need help! I'm going to gather the Moon Guard and rally them so that we can finish these demons off!"
Cytheas frowned as Illidan sprinted off, clearly disapproving of the other male's actions. "Can't he see the rest of us are exhausted?"
At the mention of exhaustion, all of the previous energy in Eliana's body seemed to leech out of her, dissipating into thin air. "I know I am," she offered with a shrug.
Now that the adrenaline had left her, the dull throbbing in her side was quickly escalating to sharp, stabbing pains. The unfamiliar heat of the midday sun beating down on her seemed to sap her of any remaining energy, and she wobbled on her feet. Quickly, Cytheas stepped to her side and wound his arm around her waist.
"What is it?" he questioned, his eyebrows drawn tight with concern.
"I just...my injury. I think I may have pushed myself a tad bit too hard." Dizzy, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead as she swayed in place.
Cytheas tightened his arms around her, scanning the plains for Ravencrest. "I'm sure we'll set up camp for the remainder of the daylight hours; I doubt the commander will want to continue fighting when the sun is so high in the sky. Let's go find him. I'll see if he brought that spare tent we'd set up for you before."
They staggered in the direction of where the horn's call had come from, and Cytheas kept looking from side-to-side, keeping an eye out for Ravencrest. Eliana did what she could to help, but the edges of her vision were growing blurry, and she felt so, so tired.
All she wanted to do was sleep. Was that so much to ask?
Finally, he must have spotted the commander, because he hoisted her up in his arms before quickly making his way through the throng of warriors. By now, Eliana's eyes had slid shut. They felt so heavy, and it took far too much effort to keep them open. In the haze of semi-consciousness, she heard the deep baritone of Cytheas' voice as he spoke to someone.
Interspersed with the familiar sound of her friend's voice, she heard the rapid padding of multiple mounts' paws, though the sound gradually faded into the distance. Rustling joined in, and then more footsteps approached. They pounded against the ground harder, and the steps were closer together; an elf, then, not a sabercat.
Illidan's panicked voice rang out, but she couldn't pick out individual words. She just knew that he sounded alarmed. Someone else piped up, but she didn't immediately recognize the voice. Concentrating on the various sounds around her was starting to make her head pound, so she slung her arm over her forehead, groaning in discomfort.
The conversation died down, and she let out an inadvertent sigh. A few minutes later, when she was set down on something soft, she finally lost consciousness.
Slowly, Eliana cracked open her eyelids, relieved to find that the tent she was in was dark. With the headache that was currently assaulting her brain, she wasn't sure she could handle the blinding brightness of the sun—especially with her sensitive eyes.
She tried to sit up, wincing when she twisted her body to the side too fast. Surprised that only a hint of pain assaulted her, versus the sharp, crippling pain she'd come to expect, she looked down at her body in confusion.
A stretchy, woven wrap replaced the crude linen strips that Illidan had wrapped around her ribs earlier. Underneath the wrap, a gauze bandage rested against her ribs where the felhound had sliced into her skin. Tentatively, she bent her body from side to side, sighing in relief when the pain didn't escalate.
Someone must've had a healer work on her.
After glancing upwards again, she questioned whether a few hours had passed, or whether Lord Ravencrest had decided to camp overnight before they continued their assault on the palace. Or rather, to take back the palace and hopefully save their queen from these horrific demons.
She'd barely swung her legs over the side of her cot, when the flap of her tent swung open hard enough to slap against the side. Her head shot up, expecting to see Cytheas. When she realized that Illidan had stepped into her tent, her eyes widened in surprise. Remembering that she wore nothing but her brassiere and the bandage around her waist, she scrambled for a blanket, or a shirt—anything to cover herself up with.
Without a single word, he stalked across the space, closing the distance between them. Before she could comprehend what he was thinking, his lips crashed against hers, and his hand wound its way into the hair at the base of her neck.
If her mouth hadn't been covered with his, she would've gasped in shock. As it were, her gasp was swallowed by Illidan.
The kiss was passionate, frantic almost, and completely unlike the few tentative, explorative kisses they'd shared thus far. Confusion still tickled the back of her mind, but Illidan was so demanding and all-encompassing, that she wasn't able to focus on it for long.
A few minutes later, he broke away to plant soft, gentle kisses along the edge of her jawline. Her eyes fluttered as she let out a breathy gasp. Overwhelmed, her hands flew up to grasp his upper arms for balance.
Finally, he leaned back and lowered his head onto his chest, which was heaving with every breath he took. Eliana looked down at him, staring at the top of his head. Hesitantly, she reached up and interlaced her fingers behind his neck, caressing his skin.
"Illidan, what…?" She trailed off, unsure of what to say, and opting to let him speak when he was ready.
When he raised his head, his eyes were heavy-lidded, but his brows were drawn tight together. "When I saw you, immobile and in Cytheas' arms, I...I thought…"
"You thought what?" she asked, cradling his face with her hand.
He closed his eyes again, worrying his bottom lip as he seemed to struggle to find the words to say. In a strained, tight voice, he then said, "I thought you were dead."
"You'd seen me earlier. I was fine."
"Yes, but then I left. I walked away when I knew you were injured, and still, I left to chase after my own ambitions. What kind of male does that make me? What kind of friend does that make me?" he spat, pushing off of the cot to pace back and forth. The tent was small, so he didn't go far, but Eliana could see that he was incredibly agitated.
She tried to speak, but he whirled around and gestured at her. Seemingly frustrated, he exclaimed, "I left you without ensuring you received proper care. For all I knew, you could have died in the short time that I was chasing after those wretched demons!"
"But I didn't, and now I'm fine. Illidan, you're being far too hard on yourself," she reassured him, rising to her feet.
His eyes remained trained on her face, but briefly, they flickered down to her bandage. "If you died, I—I...couldn't..."
"I didn't die."
"But if you—"
She stepped forward and reached up for his face again. He tried to lean back, but she forced him to look down at her. "If I do, then that wouldn't be your fault. We are at war, and sadly, many of our people have died so far. I imagine more will stilldie in the days to come. But I didn't die, Illidan, and you have to remember that. I'm standing here, in front of you, right now."
He clenched his jaw so hard, she could see the muscle in his cheek twitching. Finally, he nodded, albeit imperceptibly, and she lifted her other hand to cradle his face.
"I'm touched that you'd be that upset, though," she teased with a wry smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.
A low, quiet chuckle escaped him, and she nearly sighed in relief; the sound caused her abdomen to flutter with nerves. He lifted his hands and rested them on her waist, seemingly uncaring that she wasn't wearing a shirt of any kind. "You should know by now that I would be."
When he started to lean down, she murmured, "I'd hoped," and their lips touched once more.
A/N:
And that's that! I normally get a wonderful amount of feedback from my readers, but the last chapter was sadly less than before. I was really happy with the way the last chapter turned out, too, and I was worried that everyone hated it from the lack of feedback :( Please, if you enjoy what you read, let me know! It definitely helps keep me motivated—especially on such a long, intensive project such as this story.
That being said, I really appreciate all of my new followers and people who marked this story as a favorite. I know a lot of readers do so silently, and never leave a review (which is totally fine!), but I want you guys to know that I'm still super grateful you've given the story a chance!
Thank you to Terikel, racethesun, and Cheesetrees for the reviews. I loved hearing your guys' thoughts, as always, and the reviews I did get on the last chapter were so wonderful.
The semester will be over in just a couple more weeks, so I'm hoping to get a lot of updates out this summer! Hopefully we can finish the first installment and move into the second before fall semester starts :) Also, if any of you enjoy reading the Warcraft novels, the new Illidan novel by William King was recently released! I haven't started reading my copy yet, but I highly recommend everyone go buy a copy for themselves! We can all read it together ;)
& as always, thanks to Arenoptara for beta-reading. Your advice is invaluable.