Chapter 18: Past Tense

The memory began with the damp, oppressive air of a narrow alleyway. The walls on either side were grimy, stained with the filth of the city, and the cobblestone street beneath was slick with mud and refuse. The sun had barely set, but the shadows here were already long and deep, casting the scene into a chilling twilight. Fael, a mere child of no more than nine or ten years, stood huddled against the cold stone, her small frame trembling. Her clothes were little more than rags, torn and dirty, barely enough to cover her slight, malnourished body. Her pointed ears, a telltale sign of her elven heritage, peeked out from beneath a tangled mess of brown hair, matted and unkempt.

The alley was a dead end, and Fael knew there was no escape. The five men closing in on her had seen to that. Their heavy footsteps echoed in the confined space, each step driving home the hopelessness of her situation. They were humans, tall and broad-shouldered, their faces twisted into leering grins. They stank of sweat and alcohol, their eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

“Well, what do we have here?” sneered the largest of the group, a brute with a greasy beard and a missing tooth. He licked his lips as his eyes roamed over Fael’s frail form. “A little lost elf girl, all alone in the big, bad city.”

“Never had elf before,” another man laughed, his voice thick with cruelty. He reached out and grabbed Fael by the arm, his grip like a vise. “I hear they’re soft. Delicate.”

Fael whimpered, trying to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened. “Please… let me go…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, trembling with fear.

“Let you go?” the bearded man mocked, stepping closer. “Oh, we’ll let you go… after we’ve had our fun.”

The other men chuckled darkly, forming a circle around Fael, trapping her. Their hands reached out, brushing against her clothes, her skin, their touch invasive and disgusting. Fael’s heart pounded in her chest, a frantic rhythm that echoed in her ears. She felt a sickening wave of panic rise within her, threatening to consume her.

“No… please, no…” Fael’s voice was barely a whimper as she tried to shrink away, pressing herself against the wall, desperate to disappear.

“Shut up!” the bearded man snarled, slapping her hard across the face. The force of the blow sent Fael sprawling to the ground, her cheek stinging with pain.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at her attackers, her vision blurred. Desperation clawed at her insides, and she reached deep within herself, grasping for something—anything—that could save her. She had seen others do it, felt the energy within her before, but had never truly used it. Now, it was her only hope.

Her small hands trembled as she raised them, her voice a broken whisper as she began to chant, her words stumbling over each other in her fear. She could feel the magic within her, a faint, flickering light in the overwhelming darkness. She reached for it, trying to grasp it, trying to make it obey her will.

A faint glow formed around her hands, but it was weak, barely enough to light up the shadows in the alley. The men paused for a moment, looking at each other with a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Oh, look,” one of them sneered. “The little elf thinks she can do magic.”

The bearded man laughed, a cruel, guttural sound. “Go on, then. Show us what you’ve got, little witch.”

Fael’s heart pounded in her chest as she focused on the flickering light in her hands, willing it to grow, to become something that could protect her. But her fear, her desperation, only made it slip further from her grasp. The light dimmed, flickering out like a dying candle.

“No!” Fael cried, her voice breaking as she tried again, her hands shaking uncontrollably. The men advanced on her, their laughter echoing in her ears.

“Stop… please… please…” Her pleas fell on deaf ears as the men grabbed her, tearing at her clothes with brutal hands. She screamed, struggling with all her might, but they were too strong. They pinned her down, ripping away the last remnants of her tattered dress, leaving her exposed and vulnerable on the cold, filthy ground.

“Hold her down!” the bearded man barked, his eyes gleaming with sick anticipation.

Fael struggled wildly, tears streaming down her face as she thrashed beneath their weight. She could feel their hands on her, rough and cruel, groping and pawing at her naked skin. The fear and humiliation were overwhelming, a suffocating weight that crushed her spirit.

“No… no…” she sobbed, her voice raw and broken. “Please… someone… help…”

But no one came. The men jeered and laughed, their hands violating her with impunity. One of them held her down by her wrists, another by her ankles, while the bearded man knelt between her legs, a sick grin on his face.

“Don’t worry, little elf,” he sneered, unbuckling his belt. “You’ll like it eventually.”

Fael’s screams echoed through the alley, desperate and hopeless. She reached for her magic again, but it was like grasping at smoke. Her mind was too clouded with fear, her body too weak from the abuse. The men’s laughter rang in her ears, drowning out her thoughts, her hope.

Just as the bearded man was about to lower himself onto her, a blinding flash of light illuminated the alley. The men froze, their heads snapping up to see what had caused it.

In the entrance of the alley stood a woman, her presence commanding and fierce. She was tall, her figure shrouded in a cloak of shadows that seemed to ripple and shift around her. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural light, crackling with energy. Lightning danced across her fingertips, arcing between her hands with a sharp, electric hiss.

“What the hell—?” the bearded man started to say, but his words were cut off as a bolt of lightning shot from the woman’s hand, striking him square in the chest. He convulsed violently, his body jerking as the electricity surged through him, before collapsing to the ground in a smoking heap.

The other men stared in horror as the woman took a step forward, her face a mask of cold fury. “Get away from her,” she commanded, her voice low and dangerous.

The men scrambled to their feet, terror etched on their faces. But before they could flee, the woman unleashed another bolt of lightning, striking down the man who had been holding Fael’s wrists. His body crumpled to the ground, smoke rising from his charred flesh.

The remaining men didn’t wait for a third strike. They turned and bolted, running for their lives, their footsteps echoing through the narrow alley. The woman watched them go, her expression unchanging, before turning her gaze to Fael.

Fael lay on the ground, shivering uncontrollably, her naked body covered in bruises and dirt. She looked up at the woman with wide, terrified eyes, her lips trembling as she tried to form words.

The woman approached, her eyes scanning Fael’s broken form with a mixture of disdain and pity. She knelt down beside the girl, her hand outstretched as if to help her up. But instead of offering comfort, she grabbed Fael’s chin, forcing her to look up into her eyes.

“You’re pathetic,” the woman said coldly, her voice devoid of any warmth or sympathy. “You think a little magic will save you? You’re weak. Worthless.”

Fael’s heart sank at the woman’s words, her eyes welling up with tears. She had been saved, but the words cut deeper than any blade could.

The woman released Fael’s chin, standing up and looking down at her with disgust. “Put some clothes on,” she said, tossing a ragged cloak at the girl before turning to leave.

Fael watched as the woman walked away, her silhouette disappearing into the shadows. The alley was silent once more, the only sound the distant hum of the city beyond. She pulled the cloak around her shaking body, trying to cover herself, trying to forget the horror of what had just happened.

But the memory would never leave her. It was burned into her mind, a reminder of her weakness, her helplessness. As Fael sat there in the cold, dirty alley, she made a vow to herself. She would never be weak again. She would learn to control her magic, to make it powerful enough to protect herself, to never be at the mercy of others again.

But as she stood up on trembling legs and began to walk away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how strong she became, she would always be that scared, helpless girl in the alley. And the woman’s voice echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder of her failures.

You’re pathetic. Worthless.

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The roar of the crowd reverberated through the underground arena, a cacophony of cheers, jeers, and bloodlust. The pit was a grim, sunken place, illuminated only by flickering torches mounted on the stone walls. The floor was rough, stained with the blood and sweat of countless fighters who had battled there before. This was no place for mercy, no place for weakness. The pit demanded blood, demanded victory at any cost.

Fael stood at one end of the arena, her breath steady, her body poised. She was no longer the frightened child from the alley, no longer the weak, helpless girl who had been at the mercy of monsters. She had grown, hardened by years of struggle and determination. Her body, now adorned with intricate tattoos that pulsed with power, was a testament to her journey. Each mark etched into her skin represented a battle won, a challenge overcome. They were the visible manifestation of her magic, the symbols that channeled her energy into the forces of nature she now commanded.

Across from her, her opponent loomed. A towering man with muscles rippling beneath his scarred skin, his eyes filled with a cold, ruthless determination. He was a veteran of the pit, a fighter who had claimed more lives than Fael cared to count. He wielded a massive club, studded with metal spikes, a weapon designed for crushing bones and ending lives.

The crowd fell silent as the signal to begin was given. Fael’s eyes narrowed, her focus sharpening to a razor’s edge. She could feel the energy thrumming through her veins, the magic coiled within her, waiting to be unleashed. This was her element, her domain. She would not lose.

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The man charged at her with a roar, his club swinging down in a brutal arc aimed at her head. Fael didn’t flinch. With a flick of her wrist, a chain made of pure light materialized in her hand, the links glowing with a soft, radiant energy. She lashed out with the chain, wrapping it around the man’s wrist and yanking it to the side. The club missed its mark, crashing into the ground with a thunderous impact that sent dust and debris flying into the air.

Before her opponent could recover, Fael’s free hand moved in a swift, practiced motion. The ground beneath the man’s feet erupted as an earth ball shot up from the floor, slamming into his chest with the force of a battering ram. He staggered back, gasping for breath, but Fael didn’t relent. She spun the chain in a wide arc, the links glowing brighter as they moved faster and faster. With a sharp command, the chain struck out again, this time wrapping around the man’s legs and yanking them out from under him.

He hit the ground hard, the air driven from his lungs in a painful grunt. But even as he struggled to rise, Fael’s next attack was already in motion. A wave of water surged from her outstretched hand, freezing in midair to form a barrier of jagged ice between them. The man slammed his club against the ice, but the barrier held, the spikes biting into his flesh as he tried to break through.

Fael’s heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline surging through her as she focused her magic, controlling the elements with practiced precision. The tattoos on her skin glowed with a fierce light, the symbols channeling her energy into each attack, each defense. She was in complete control, her mind and body moving as one with the magic that flowed through her.

But her opponent was no novice. With a roar of defiance, he shattered the ice barrier with a powerful swing of his club, the shards scattering across the arena like deadly projectiles. He pushed forward, his eyes burning with fury, determined to crush the elf who had dared to challenge him.

Fael danced out of his reach, her movements graceful and fluid. She could feel the strain of the battle, the toll it was taking on her energy reserves, but she didn’t let it show. She had trained for this, honed her skills for moments like this. She would not be beaten.

The man swung again, the club whistling through the air. Fael ducked under the blow, her hands moving in a complex pattern as she summoned another earth ball. This time, she infused it with more power, the ground trembling as it shot up from beneath the man, slamming into his gut with a sickening crunch. He doubled over, blood dripping from his mouth, but still, he fought to stay on his feet.

Fael’s expression was grim as she summoned another chain of light, this one wrapping around the man’s neck, squeezing tightly. He clawed at the glowing links, his eyes bulging as he struggled to breathe. But Fael didn’t let up. She tightened the chain, watching as the fight slowly drained from his eyes, his body weakening with each passing second.

Finally, with a last, desperate gasp, the man collapsed to the ground, the club slipping from his fingers. Fael stood over him, her chest heaving as she released the chain, letting it dissolve into nothingness. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sound deafening as they celebrated her victory. Fael didn’t acknowledge them. Her eyes were fixed on her opponent, on the broken, bleeding man at her feet.

She could have ended it there, could have let him bleed out on the cold, unforgiving ground of the arena. But something inside her stirred, something that refused to be silenced by the cheers and the bloodlust of the crowd.

Without a word, Fael bent down and grabbed the man by the arm, dragging him across the pit toward the side room where the defeated were discarded, out of sight of the audience. The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of blood and sweat. She laid him down gently on the cold stone floor, her hands already glowing with a soft, blue light as she channeled what little energy she had left into healing him.

The man’s wounds began to close, the blood ceasing to flow as her magic knit his flesh back together. Fael could feel the exhaustion setting in, the drain on her energy almost too much to bear. But she didn’t stop. She kept going, pushing herself to the brink, until finally, the man’s breathing steadied, and his eyes fluttered open.

He stared at her in disbelief, his voice hoarse as he spoke. “Why…? Why would you save me?”

Fael slumped back against the wall, her body trembling with exhaustion. She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Why not?” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “I could help, so I did.”

The man shook his head weakly, his eyes filled with confusion. “I would have left you to die… just like everyone else would.”

Fael’s gaze hardened, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “I’m not everyone else,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “No one dictates my actions—no society, no king, no god. I decide what I do, and I chose to be kind.”

The man stared at her, struggling to comprehend her words. He had spent his life in the pit, surrounded by brutality and violence, where mercy was a foreign concept. Fael’s actions were beyond his understanding, a beacon of light in a world of darkness.

Fael didn’t wait for a response. She pushed herself to her feet, her body swaying with the effort. She had done what she could, and now she needed to rest. Without another word, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving the man to ponder the meaning of her actions.

As she stepped back into the arena, the crowd’s cheers washed over her once more, but she barely heard them. Her mind was elsewhere, focused on the vow she had made to herself so many years ago. She would never be weak again, never be at the mercy of others. But she would also never let the darkness consume her. She would be her own person, guided by her own principles, no matter the cost.

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The air in the village was thick with the smell of damp earth and the remnants of the storm that had torn through it. The once-thriving settlement was now a scene of devastation—roofs torn from homes, walls collapsed into heaps of rubble, and the ground littered with the debris of shattered lives. The villagers, their faces etched with fear and despair, moved through the wreckage in a daze, searching for missing loved ones, for anything that could be salvaged from the destruction.

Fael moved through the chaos with purpose, her hands glowing with the warm, blue light of her healing magic. Each step she took was careful, her eyes scanning the ground for any sign of life beneath the rubble. She crouched down beside a collapsed wall, placing her hand on the rough stones. With a focused breath, she channeled her magic into the earth, her tattoos flaring to life as the stones shifted and lifted, revealing a small child huddled beneath them, dirty and scared, but alive.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” Fael whispered gently, her voice carrying a soothing tone as she lifted the child into her arms. The child clung to her, their tiny fingers gripping her tunic with desperate strength. Fael held them close, the warmth of her magic seeping into the child’s trembling body, calming their fears. She stood and carried the child to a group of villagers who were gathering the survivors.

As she handed the child over to their grateful parents, she glanced around the village, her eyes taking in the scene of her comrades working tirelessly to aid the villagers. Beron was at the center of it all, his commanding presence a beacon of hope amidst the despair. He moved with the grace and confidence of a seasoned leader, organizing the villagers and the group into teams, directing them to where they were most needed.

“Group three, focus on clearing the main road! We need to get supplies through as soon as possible!” Beron called out, his voice carrying over the noise of the ongoing relief efforts. His shining armor, though scuffed and dirty from the work, still managed to catch the light, making him a figure of inspiration to those around him.

Nearby, Jora was a force of nature herself, her powerful muscles straining as she held up the remnants of a collapsing building. Her feet dug into the ground as she used her raw strength to keep the structure from falling completely, allowing a group of villagers to escape from within. Sweat dripped from her brow, but her expression remained determined, her fierce eyes focused on the task at hand.

“Get out, all of you! Move, now!” Jora barked, her voice rough but filled with urgency. The villagers hurried past her, their faces a mixture of fear and awe as they glanced at the warrior holding back the ruin.

And then there was Tain, always at Fael’s side, as he had been for so long. He moved quietly through the chaos, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for threats, his hands ever ready to defend her. He was her shadow, her protector in the midst of danger. Even when they weren’t fighting, he remained close, always watchful, always vigilant. He never left her side if he could help it, a silent guardian in the storm of their lives.

As Fael finished healing an elderly woman who had suffered a broken leg in the storm, she felt a familiar presence beside her. She didn’t need to look to know it was Tain. But when she glanced over, she found his gaze already on her, intense and unwavering. His dark eyes were filled with something more than just concern—there was admiration there, and something deeper, something that made Fael’s heart skip a beat.

For a moment, the chaos around them seemed to fade, the sounds of destruction and despair falling away until it was just the two of them, standing together in the midst of it all. Fael caught his gaze, and they shared a silent understanding, a connection that went beyond words. It was in that gaze that she saw the depth of his feelings, the way he admired her strength, her compassion, her unyielding determination to help those in need.

And in that gaze, she felt a surge of gratitude. Gratitude for his protection, for the way he had always been there, standing between her and the darkness that had once threatened to consume her. Tain had been her shield when she couldn’t protect herself, her steady presence when the world seemed too harsh, too cruel. And now, as she stood there, surrounded by the devastation of the storm, she realized just how much he meant to her.

Tain didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to. His eyes spoke volumes, conveying everything he felt with a simple look. Fael offered him a small, weary smile, one that he returned with a nod, understanding passing between them like a current.

“Fael, over here!” a voice called, breaking the moment. It was one of the villagers, waving her over to another collapsed building where they had heard cries for help. Fael tore her gaze from Tain’s, nodding to the villager as she moved to respond. Tain was right behind her, ready to assist as they made their way through the wreckage.

As they worked side by side, Fael couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, something that had been growing for a long time but had only now become clear. There was no denying it anymore—Tain wasn’t just her protector, he was her partner, someone who understood her in a way no one else could.

They reached the collapsed building, and with Tain’s help, Fael began to carefully move the debris, her magic guiding the stones and wood away from the trapped survivors. Tain worked quickly and efficiently, his speed complementing her magic as they freed the villagers trapped beneath.

When the last of the survivors were safely pulled from the wreckage, Fael and Tain stood back, surveying their work. The village was still in ruins, but there was hope here, hope that they had helped to kindle. And in that moment, Fael realized that she wasn’t alone anymore. She had a family, a group of people who cared for her, who would stand by her no matter what. And Tain was at the center of that, the one person who had always been there, who always would be.

As they turned to rejoin Beron and Jora, Fael glanced at Tain once more, catching his gaze again. There was no need for words, no need for explanations. They both knew what had grown between them, what had been there all along. It was a bond forged in fire and battle, in moments of quiet understanding and shared purpose.

And as they moved forward together, Fael felt a sense of peace settle over her. For the first time in her life, she felt like she had found where she belonged, with people who saw her for who she was, who accepted her, who loved her. And with Tain by her side, she knew she could face whatever challenges lay ahead.

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Fael’s heart pounded in her chest as she faced Cal, her body trembling with exhaustion and fear. The cavern was filled with the sound of battle—shouts, the crackling of magic, the clash of steel against stone—but all she could focus on was the monstrous figure hurtling toward her with terrifying speed.

Cal.

There was nothing human left in his eyes, just the cold, detached gaze of a predator about to strike. Her tattoos flared to life as she channeled what little magic she had left, her mind racing through every spell she knew, every tactic she’d ever used in battle. She couldn’t stop him—not with her power alone—but she had to try.

“Get back!” she screamed, her voice hoarse, as the ground beneath Cal’s feet erupted into jagged spikes of earth. But he didn’t even slow down. He tore through the earth as if it were nothing, his body moving with a speed and strength that defied reason.

The icy shards she summoned were next, hurtling through the air toward him, each one sharp enough to pierce steel. They barely grazed him. Fael’s panic grew as she watched him shrug off her magic, her power so weak in the face of his monstrous might. Her fingers trembled, her mind frantic as she struggled to come up with something, anything, to stop him.

She cast another spell, her hands shaking as she whispered the incantation. The air around Cal shimmered with magic, a desperate attempt to bind him, to slow him down. But the moment the spell touched him, Fael felt something strange, something wrong. It was as if her magic had been sucked into a void, pulled into Cal’s very being.

“No…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He was absorbing her magic.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t just unstoppable—he was feeding off her power.

Fear clawed at her insides, a primal terror she hadn’t felt in years. For the first time in so long, she felt truly powerless.

Desperate, she poured all her energy into one final attack. The ground beneath her rumbled as she called forth a colossal spike, formed of ice, earth, and light, its tip aimed directly at Cal’s heart.

Please, she begged silently. Let this be enough.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t.

Cal’s grin was wide and cruel as he charged, not even slowing. Fael’s heart sank as she saw her comrades rushing to her aid. Jora’s greatsword gleamed in the dim light as she swung it with all her might. Tain’s dagger flew through the air, aimed for Cal’s throat. Beron, always so composed, unleashed a powerful strike with his rapier, the blade glowing with sword essence.

But it was too late.

Cal unleashed another Essence Burst, and the world exploded around her. The wave of power collided with her spike, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The force of the Burst knocked Jora back, sent Tain’s dagger spinning off into the darkness, and disrupted Beron’s precise attack.

The cavern shook with the force of the explosion, dust and debris filling the air, obscuring everything in a thick haze. Fael’s ears rang, her vision blurred, and her body screamed in pain. She tried to stand, to cast another spell, but her magic was depleted, her strength gone.

Through the dust, she saw him—Cal, standing amidst the chaos, untouched, his eyes locked on hers.

No… no…

He was coming for her.

Her heart pounded, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She tried to summon magic, tried to lift her hands, but her body wouldn’t obey. Her legs felt like lead, her arms too heavy. Panic surged through her, raw and consuming, as she realized she was out of time.

Cal was right in front of her now, his hand outstretched.

“No!” she screamed, her voice breaking.

But her body didn’t move.

Cal’s hand smashed into her face with impossible force. The impact was instant, brutal. Her skull cracked beneath his palm, the sound sickeningly loud in her ears. The pain was blinding, a white-hot explosion that tore through her mind, obliterating all thought, all sensation.

Her vision darkened, the world around her fading to black.

In the final moments, before the darkness took her, she saw Tain.

His face, twisted in terror and helplessness, his eyes wide with desperation as he reached for her. She wanted to say something, wanted to reach out, to tell him it was going to be okay, to show him that she wasn’t afraid, that she was still strong.

But she wasn’t.

She tried to smile, to convey love, gratitude, anything other than the fear that consumed her. But her body wouldn’t respond. Her sight was dimming, and all she saw was Tain’s horrified expression, growing smaller, further away.

And then… nothing.

She was alone.

Alone, like the little girl in the alley all those years ago. The same fear, the same helplessness. She had vowed to never feel that way again, had promised herself that she would be stronger, that she would protect those she loved.

But she had failed.

The promises, the vows, the strength she had built over the years—it was all gone now, crumbling away with her dying breath. She wasn’t strong. She was weak. Weak, afraid, and alone.

Her last thought, before the darkness swallowed her whole, was one of despair.

I failed.

And then there was nothing but silence.