Lisan POV
Why? Why had she done it?
Inquisitor Markus could have liberated her. His presence should have been a lifeline, yet something inside her had twisted her actions. Her fire spell had flown before her conscious mind could even register the decision.
It was infuriating. It was terrifying.
The blood bond. That was the only explanation. She’d allowed herself to be tethered to Dreven, and now her thoughts and actions weren’t wholly her own. Even now, a subtle pull whispered in the back of her mind, weaving doubt into her rebellion against him and urging her to trust where she should question.
“Sanguinari elves,” Lisan muttered under her breath, biting her lip hard enough to sting. She glanced at Dreven, his tall frame cutting a foreboding silhouette against the fading light of the evening sky. He hadn’t elaborated on his plans, which made her unease grow heavier with each step.
The forest path stretched ahead of them, quiet but alive with the subtle rustling of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal creatures stirring. After a day and a half of travel, exhaustion nipped at her heels, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside her mind.
The setting sun bled orange and gold across the horizon, its rays filtering through the dense canopy above. Lisan let out a slow breath, trying to clear her thoughts, but the weight of Dreven’s presence beside her was a constant reminder of the danger she’d willingly invited into her life.
“Dreven?” Her voice broke the stillness between them.
His piercing yellow eyes turned toward her, glowing faintly in the dimming light. The sight made her stomach twist.
“Yes?” he replied, his tone as smooth and measured as ever.
“Tell me the truth,” she said, her voice firmer this time. “What are you planning?”
A low chuckle escaped his lips, and for a moment, she hated how unshaken he seemed, even when cornered by a question like that.
“That is a broad question,” he said, his smirk revealing unnervingly sharp teeth. “Do you mean now? Or do you mean my plans here in Ultima? Or…” His eyes narrowed slightly, a predatory glint sparking in them. “…do you mean my plans for you?”
Lisan fought to keep her composure, averting her gaze to the dirt path beneath her boots. “What do you plan to do here in Ultima?” she clarified, ignoring his unsettling tone.
Dreven stopped walking, his tall frame looming as he turned to face her fully. For a heartbeat, she thought he might refuse to answer.
“I plan on surviving,” he said simply. “The reality is I need allies, and to find them, I need to be free to travel.”
His answer was pragmatic, even modest compared to the grandiose ambitions many outworlders held. Lisan had encountered a few of them before—those deemed harmless enough to exist under the Inquisition’s watchful eye. Most arrived with visions of conquest, eager to impose their ideals or carve out empires.
Dreven, by comparison, seemed almost tame. Yet that didn’t make him less dangerous.
“Dreven,” she said after a pause, her brow furrowing, “you know that even if we can somehow register you, you’ll still stand out. You look too different. How do you plan to stop them from hunting you?”
He shrugged, his gaze lifting to the rising moon. Its silvery glow cast an ethereal light on his gray skin, making him look even more otherworldly.
“I suppose I’ll simply become powerful enough that they can’t kill me,” he said, his tone almost casual.
“Good luck with that,” she muttered, pulling a fruit from her pack. She bit into it, the sweet juice momentarily distracting her from the unease gnawing at her insides. After a few bites, she held it out to him. “Want some?”
Dreven shook his head. “I cannot.”
The simplicity of his refusal made her pause. She frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t? Surely you can’t go without eating?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, almost reluctant.
“Sanguinari are not like most beings,” he said. “We sustain ourselves on life essence—on the mana that flows in the blood of others.”
Her hand froze mid-motion, the half-eaten fruit suddenly feeling heavy in her grasp. “So…how will you survive?”
“Animals, for now,” he said, his tone dismissive, as if the thought didn’t trouble him in the slightest. “Though their mana is weak. I won’t be able to maintain my current strength unless I consume someone with dense mana.”
She stared at him, a mix of disgust and dread tightening her throat. “You mean…someone like me?”
He met her gaze but didn’t answer. The silence was more damning than any words he could have spoken.
Lisan swallowed hard, pushing down the rising bile in her throat. “For now, we need to keep moving. The Inquisitors have spells cast on them. If Markus is killed, they’ll know immediately. Since we left him alive, we have a two, maybe three-day head start.”
Her words sounded practical, but her mind raced. What kind of monster had she helped escape into the world?
As they continued down the winding path, the forest grew denser, the shadows deeper. Her thoughts churned, wrestling with the implications of what Dreven had revealed. Outworlders were always a gamble, their very presence a disruption to the fragile balance of Ultima.
But Dreven…he was different. He wasn’t just another outworlder with ambitions of reshaping the world to suit his ideals. He was something darker, something that threatened the natural order on a fundamental level.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Her hands clenched into fists as she walked. She would have to be careful, watchful. The blood bond made her vulnerable to his influence, but she still had her will, her mind. For now.
The journey to the border would take days, and even once they crossed into less patrolled lands, they would face the challenge of getting Dreven registered. Every step felt heavier with the knowledge of what he was—a predator hiding behind a mask of civility.
Yet, as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than he let on. His gaze was fixed ahead, his expression unreadable, but there was a tension in his posture, a quiet resolve that made her wonder…
What was he really running from?
And what would he become if he ever stopped running?
The moon climbed higher into the sky, its light filtering through the trees and casting dappled shadows on the ground. Lisan forced herself to focus on the path ahead, but the unease lingering in her chest refused to be silenced.
She had made her choice. Now, she would have to live with the consequences—or die by them.
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MARKUS POV
Baaawwwaaa
Markus inhaled sharply as if he had been drowning, his lungs burning with the effort. For a moment, he lay still on the cold earth, staring up at the dimming sky. His heart pounded in his chest, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of confusion and anger.
“What... where?” he muttered, his voice hoarse and dry. He blinked rapidly, forcing his memories into focus. The events of the past hours surged back, unbidden and unwelcome.
The fight. The strange gray-skinned elf. Lisan Emberton.
“Lisan!” Markus growled, slamming his fist into the dirt. The realization of her betrayal struck like a hammer blow. “The bitch hit me with a firebolt spell.”
Pain flared in his side as he tried to sit up. He gritted his teeth, cursing both the adventurer and the unnatural creature she had aided. He felt along his torso, grimacing at the burnt edges of his armor. The protection spell woven into the steel had dulled the worst of the attack, but it was still a minor miracle he was alive.
Pushing himself to his feet, he staggered slightly, his legs weak beneath him. His pack lay a few feet away, its contents ransacked. Lisan and the outworlder had taken most of his supplies, leaving him with barely enough to make the trek back to town.
“Damn them both,” Markus hissed, slinging the pack over his shoulder. His limp was pronounced as he began his journey back toward the distant town walls. The sun was already sinking below the horizon, casting long shadows over the path.
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The hours passed slowly, each step a laborious effort. By the time the town gates came into view, Markus’s body felt like lead. Sweat clung to his brow, and his injuries throbbed with each movement. The sight of the familiar stone walls was both a relief and a bitter reminder of his failure.
“Inquisitor Markus?” one of the guards called out, squinting in the low light. His voice carried a note of surprise. “Sir, what happened?”
“Lisan Emberton,” Markus spat, his voice laced with venom. “She’s working with a newly arrived outworlder. Resisted arrest and attacked me.”
The guard’s eyes widened. “An outworlder? Sir, should we—”
“Go get Guildmaster Hans,” Markus interrupted. “Tell him to meet me at the Inquisitorium. Immediately.”
The Inquisitorium loomed over the town like a monolith, its dark gray stone walls stark against the twilight sky. Three massive banners draped from its upper windows, each bearing the red-eye emblem of the Order of the Inquisition—a sword, shield, and hammer set behind the all-seeing gaze.
Markus ascended the wide stone steps with a grim determination, his boots scuffing against the weathered surface. Inside, the building buzzed with activity. Inquisitors, scribes, and town officials moved through its halls, their conversations a low hum beneath the flicker of torchlight.
The Inquisitorium served many roles: a center for governance, a guard post, and, most importantly, the regional headquarters for the Order of the Inquisition. Few organizations wielded as much power or influence. Entire nations bowed to the authority of the Order, their reach extending far beyond the borders of any one kingdom.
Markus’s presence drew a few curious glances as he passed through the main atrium. His battered armor and ragged appearance spoke volumes about his recent ordeal. He ignored the stares, his focus set on the task ahead.
“Inquisitor Markus,” a young clerk approached him, a stack of parchment clutched to her chest. “You’ve been summoned to Marshal Allis’s office. Immediately.”
Markus suppressed a groan. Of course.
The Marshal’s office was unmistakable. Its double doors were larger and more ornate than any others in the Inquisitorium, a testament to the authority wielded by its occupant. Markus paused outside, taking a steadying breath before pushing them open.
Inside, the office was a blend of order and purpose. One wall was dominated by a massive map of the known world, its surface dotted with pins and markers denoting areas of interest. The opposite wall was a chaotic array of papers, wanted posters, and decrees pinned haphazardly to the stone.
Behind a large desk of intricately carved wood sat Marshal Allis, her sharp features illuminated by the light streaming through the tall window behind her. Her auburn hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her dark eyes scanned a stack of reports with methodical precision. The silver bars on her shoulder plate marked her rank, a visual reminder of the authority she held over Markus and his peers.
“Inquisitor Markus,” she said without looking up, her tone cool and measured. “I assume you know why you’re here.”
Markus hesitated, his gaze dropping to the polished floor. “I’m not entirely sure, ma’am. I’ve just returned from a short... excursion beyond the town.”
Allis’s lips twitched, a faint smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She set the papers aside and fixed him with a piercing stare. “Really? Because I’ve received reports that you pursued a suspected outworlder without prior authorization or submitting the proper paperwork.”
“Of course not, ma’am,” Markus said quickly, his voice defensive. “I was merely following up on a lead involving Lisan Emberton from the Adventurers’ Guild and—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Markus.” Allis raised a hand, silencing him. “You disobeyed a direct order to stay your hand. You confronted Lisan Emberton despite my explicit instructions. As a result, not only were you nearly killed, but you’ve also alerted the outworlder to our presence.”
Markus clenched his fists, the reprimand stinging more than he cared to admit. “Ma’am, I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to—”
Allis stood abruptly, her lithe figure framed by the light pouring in from the window. Her shadow stretched across the room, a stark reminder of the power she wielded.
“Did it occur to you,” she said, her voice cold, “that I was already aware of the outworlder’s presence? That I was making plans to capture them properly? Your impulsiveness has jeopardized the entire operation.”
Markus swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. “Ma’am, I—”
“You’ll be docked a month’s pay,” Allis interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. She returned to her seat, her gaze never leaving him. “Now, tell me about this outworlder.”
Markus nodded, forcing himself to focus. “Gray-skinned. Taller than most elves, with unnatural yellow eyes. Fought with impressive skill and wielded powerful magic. Lisan Emberton seems to be aiding him, though her motivations are unclear.”
Allis leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “A gray-skinned elf, you say? And did they mention anything about their intentions?”
“Nothing specific,” Markus admitted. “But it’s clear they’re dangerous.”
Allis nodded slowly, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. “Very well. I’ll assign a team to investigate further. In the meantime, you’ll remain here and assist with preparations.”
Markus bowed his head, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He had failed, and the consequences were already unfolding. But one thing was certain: he would not let Lisan or the outworlder escape justice.
Not again.