Elle stirred as a gentle breeze tickled the tips of her pointed ears. Her cheeks were pressed to coarse, grainy sand, and at first, she thought she must be dreaming. But the damp heat on her skin was too uncomfortable, too real. She winced as she lifted her face, tiny grains of sand scraping against her lips. Groggy, she pushed herself onto her knees and spat out what little sand found its way into her mouth.

Sunlight blazed overhead in a bright, near-tropical sky. Far fiercer than the serene, mild glow of Elytheris she was accustomed to. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a tangled mess of salt and damp, and her feet entirely bare. It was only then she realized she had no idea where she was.

“Aer?” she croaked, her voice raspy with thirst. “Kali? Faye? Liori?”

Nothing but the ceaseless lapping of waves, the distant cry of seagulls, and the rustle of leaves in an unfamiliar wind answered her. There was no sign of a shipwreck, no remains of The Silver Horizon or any glimpse of monstrous tentacles. Instead, just the rolling ocean behind her and an endless stretch of golden sand.

Her heart jolted at a sudden thought: The Orb! In a flash, she was patting herself down, searching every pocket, every scrap of cloth. The relic was nowhere to be found nor any sign of her friends. A pang of guilt and fear twisted her stomach.

Where am I? she wondered, her throat constricting with panic. She swiped at the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, swallowing a wave of worry. Her brother must be frantic, not to mention disappointed that she’d lost both her friends and Elytheris’s most sacred treasure. A hollow ache pinched her chest. But tears were a luxury she couldn’t afford now.

She stood shakily, toes sinking into the warm sand. Looking over one shoulder, she saw a wide stretch of ocean. It was utterly calm, save for gentle surf, so unlike the raging storm she’d last faced. On either side, the beach curved in a languid arc. Ahead, a dense wall of lush, tropical greenery rose, unfamiliar leaves and thick vines forming a barrier. The humid air was stifling, each breath feeling heavy and damp.

“I wish I’d listened more to Professor Oak,” she muttered under her breath. “Arcane extraction…storing water from the air… anything would be helpful right now…”

She trudged across the sand, scanning the shoreline for a pier or some sign of civilization. Nothing. Just the rhythmic wash of gentle waves and the high-pitched calls of seagulls overhead. She had walked no more than a few minutes when a rustling sound from the tree line caught her attention. Instinctively, her pointed ears twitched, honing in on the disturbance.

Hide! her mind screamed, but there was nowhere to go. The beach was too open. Any attempt to dive behind sand dunes or debris would be futile. Her heart thundered as she tried to prepare for the worst. Then, emerging from the dense green shadows, she saw him: the traitor elf.

He was taller than she remembered, his dark hair plastered to his sharp features by the clinging humidity. His jade-green eyes, flecked with threads of gold, met her own. Surprise etched itself onto his face for the briefest second. Apparently, he hadn’t expected to run into her so soon.

He stole the Orb, her mind hissed. He’s dangerous. Adrenaline kicked in, drowning out the fear. If her friends weren’t here to help, she had no one to rely on but herself.

A surge of anger seared through her. She had lost everything.

Her realm’s prized artifact, her friends, her footing in a storm-ravaged sea.

And this man was at least partly responsible. Whatever happened in the storm may have cast them ashore, but she wouldn’t let him slip away again. She wouldn’t let him plot another betrayal or harm the land she loved.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

No words passed her lips. She had nothing to say to him. Kill or be killed, a voice in her head urged. It was a cold, practical truth. If she hesitated, she would lose any advantage.

Elle launched herself forward, muscles coiled. She sprinted across the sand, half barefoot, half feral, intent on her prey. Her limbs ached from the crash and the storm, but she was burning stronger than ever. If he was the one who claimed the Orb, he might know where it had gone, and if he stood between her and saving her home, so be it.

The traitor’s eyes widened. He hesitated only a fraction of a heartbeat, rain-pinned hair clinging to his shoulders. Then, he braced himself. A dagger glinted in his hand. The thin, cruel blade shimmered with an oily sheen. The bright sun glinted off the steel, momentarily blinding her. But she didn’t falter.

“You,” she snarled, though the wind tore away the word. Her bare feet gripped the hot sand, pushing off to close the gap. Her momentum carried her straight at him. No plan, no tactic, just unflinching outrage fueling every step.

He raised the dagger, eyes narrowing. She wouldn’t let him strike first. If he so much as tried, she’d ensure it was the last thing he did. The blade hissed past her by a hair’s breadth as she ducked under his swing, turning her sideways motion into a swirl that let her seize the edge of his cloak. He tore free with a flick of his wrist, but the sudden jerk upset his balance, his next slash carving only empty air.

Gritting her teeth, Elle drove a punch into his ribs. It landed solidly, but to her dismay, the blow only forced him back a few steps.

He’s strong, she realized, and nearly as fast as I am.

A quick, vicious kick came at her midsection. She twisted, hooking an arm around his cloak to yank him forward instead. She managed to fling him against a nearby tree in the tangle, the trunk giving a dull thud as he collided with it. He let out a low snarl, still managing to keep hold of his dagger. Rain beaded across his brow, and as she scrutinized him, his complexion shifted, taking on a different hue. She recalled how dark elves tried (and failed) to infiltrate Elytheris some decades back.

A dark elf? she muttered under her breath, her mind swimming with shock at his changing features.

At her whisper, a flash of anger crossed his face. Without warning, he scooped up a handful of sand and flung it at her. Elle raised her arms, shielding her eyes at the last second, but grains still stung her lids, momentarily blinding her. She stumbled on the shifting shore, water lapping at her ankles, heart pounding in her ears.

He took advantage of her distraction, hurling his cloak around her like a net. She barely managed to roll sideways in time to avoid a direct thrust of his dagger, the blade burying itself in the sand with a muffled thump. Scrambling upright, she pivoted to kick him in the face. The blow connected, but again he barely flinched, only scowled. He lunged at her legs, trying to grab hold of an ankle, but she jerked free, adrenaline spiking.

Her opportunity arose in the blink of an eye: the dagger lay half-embedded near her feet. Gritting her teeth, she dove for it. Her fingers closed over the hilt just as he lunged again. With a furious swipe and a split-second of thinking, she chose to knock the dagger from his reach, but in the next heartbeat, he was at her back, powerful arms locking her in a crushing grapple.

“Calm down, princess.” His breath raked hot against her ear, words dripping with exasperation. “You’re no use to me dead. You’re making it very hard for me to—”

Her head snapped backward, meeting his jaw with a dull crack. His pained hiss filled her ears, even as stars danced in her own vision from the recoil.

“Let… go!” she growled, trying to twist free.

The man inhaled sharply, his temper fraying at the edges. “You little—!” Then, before she could maneuver again, he forced her face-first into the damp sand, robbing her of air. In one swift motion, his knee pressed into her spine, pinning her flat. A coarse rope looped around her wrists as she kicked in vain, spitting sand from her mouth.

She coughed; a muffled sound against the wet ground as he tightened the bindings ruthlessly. Her heart hammered as rage and panic mingled in her chest. As a final humiliation, he yanked her back by the rope, ensuring she couldn’t struggle free.

For a moment, nothing but the crash of waves and the rasp of labored breathing punctuated the thick silence. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as anger, desperation, and defeat made her bound and prone. She had no choice but to feel the world tilt under her as he shifted, still holding her in place. The biting taste of sand coated her tongue, and her wrists stung against the rough fibers binding them.

Elle screamed in raw frustration, her voice cracking against the humid air. It was a sound devoid of the royal poise she’d been taught as a raw, feral cry ripped from the depths of her despair. The princess who had only known love and adoration was rendered utterly powerless. Even her usual healing touch lay beyond reach; her life force strangled, held in check by the vile enchantment laced into the rope.