Her Immortal Love (Brides of the Vrakken #2)

7. Alexei

7

ALEXEI

T he air crackles with tension as I stand at the front lines, my senses on high alert. The dark elves emerge from the shadows, their violet eyes gleaming with malice. I bare my fangs, feeling the rush of power coursing through my veins.

"Hold the line!" I shout to my fellow vrakken. We've trained for this, but nothing can truly prepare you for the chaos of battle.

The first wave hits us like a tidal wave. I duck under a swinging blade, my reflexes faster than any human's. My fist connects with an elf's jaw, sending him flying. But there's no time to savor the small victory.

I reach for the magic within me, feeling it pulse beneath my skin. With a thought, I send a blast of energy toward a group of advancing elves. They scatter like leaves in the wind, some crying out as the force knocks them off their feet.

An arrow whizzes past my ear. Too close. I spin, spotting the archer perched in a nearby tree. My wings unfurl in an instant, and I launch myself into the air. The elf's eyes widen in shock as I close the distance in seconds. My hand wraps around his throat, and I hurl him to the ground below.

Landing hard, I immediately have to parry a sword strike. The clash of steel rings out as I engage in a deadly dance with a skilled elven warrior. He's good, but I'm better. I feint left, then drive my blade through a gap in his armor. One down, countless more to go.

A scream pierces the air, and I turn to see one of our younger vrakken overwhelmed by dark elf magic. Without thinking, I reach out with my own power, creating a shield around him. The elf's spell dissipates harmlessly against it.

"Thanks!" the young vrakken gasps, regaining his footing.

I nod, then dive back into the fray. My blade flashes in the eerie light of the battlefield, finding its mark again and again. But for every elf I cut down, two more seem to take their place.

Suddenly, the ground beneath my feet begins to tremble. I leap back just as a fissure opens up, nearly swallowing me whole. Dark elf earth magic. Clever.

I concentrate, drawing on the power flowing through me. With a grunt of effort, I send a shockwave through the earth, destabilizing the elves' footing. Several tumble into their own trap.

The battle rages on, a blur of blood, magic, and steel. My muscles burn with exertion, but I push through the pain. Too much is at stake to falter now.

A particularly powerful elf charges at me, his hands wreathed in crackling energy. I meet his assault head-on, our magics clashing in a brilliant display of light and force. The air around us warps and bends as we struggle for dominance.

I grit my teeth as another wave of dark elves crashes against our lines. My muscles scream in protest, but I push through the pain. There's no time for weakness.

A young vrakken stumbles nearby, overwhelmed by three elves. I leap to his aid, my blade slicing through the air. One elf falls, clutching his throat. The second turns to face me, giving the young vrakken an opening. He takes it, driving his sword deep into the elf's back.

The third elf, seeing his companions fall, unleashes a torrent of dark magic. I shove the young vrakken aside, taking the brunt of the spell. It burns like acid, eating through my defenses. With a roar of pain and fury, I charge forward, tackling the elf to the ground. We grapple in the dirt, magic and fists flying. I feel his bones crack under my grip, but he doesn't yield. In the end, I have to crush his windpipe to stop him.

As I rise, panting, I see a group of our warriors cornered by a platoon of elves. They're outnumbered and outflanked. I have a clear shot at the elven commander, but taking it would leave our people exposed.

"Damn it," I mutter, then shout to nearby vrakken. "With me! We need to break that line!"

We charge as one, our wings carrying us over the battlefield. I dive into the fray, my blade finding flesh again and again. But for every elf we cut down, another takes their place. We're making progress, but it's slow, too slow.

A scream of agony cuts through the chaos. One of our warriors falls, an elven spear protruding from his chest. Another follows, her head nearly severed by a vicious sword strike.

The elven commander laughs, raising his staff high. Dark energy crackles around him, and I know he's preparing a devastating spell. Our people won't survive it.

Time seems to slow as I weigh my options. If I strike now, I might take out the commander, but I'll leave my flank exposed. If I don't, we'll lose even more of our warriors.

With a heavy heart, I make my choice. "Cover me!" I shout, then launch myself toward the commander.

He sees me coming, his eyes widening in surprise. His spell goes wild, arcing over my head and into the melee behind me. I hear screams - both vrakken and elf - but I can't look back. Not now.

The commander raises his staff to block my strike, but he's too slow. My blade bites deep into his shoulder, nearly severing his arm. He howls in pain and rage, lashing out with his good arm. His fist connects with my jaw, sending me reeling.

I recover quickly, ducking under his next swing. My blade flashes out, opening a deep gash across his stomach. He stumbles back, clutching the wound. I press my advantage, driving my sword through his heart.

As the commander falls, I turn back to the battle. The scene that greets me is one of carnage. Bodies litter the ground - vrakken and elf alike. The spell he unleashed in his final moments tore through friend and foe without discrimination.

I've won, but at what cost? How many of our people died because I chose to target the commander instead of protecting them?

There's no time to dwell on it. The battle rages on, and I throw myself back into the fray. Each life I take weighs on me, each fallen comrade a wound on my soul. But I can't stop. Not until this war is won.

I stand amidst the carnage, my body trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline. The metallic scent of blood hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid smell of spent magic. Bodies litter the ground, dark elf and vrakken alike. My hands, still sticky with gore, shake as I try to wipe them clean.

"Well done, Alexei." Nyx's voice cuts through the haze of my thoughts. I turn to face her, struggling to maintain my composure. Her eyes, swirling with silver, study me intently. "Your tactics turned the tide of this battle."

I nod, not trusting my voice. The praise should fill me with pride, but all I feel is a deep, gnawing emptiness. Flashes of my human life intrude – diplomatic meetings, handshakes, the belief that words could solve conflicts. How naive I was.

"Thank you, Nyx," I manage to say, my voice hoarse. "But the cost..."

She follows my gaze to the fallen vrakken nearby. "War demands sacrifice, Alexei. You know this."

I do know it, but knowledge doesn't ease the ache in my chest. I remember each of their faces, their names. In my mind, I see them not as the fierce warriors they were, but as the humans they once were. Just like me.

"We've learned something crucial today," Nyx continues, her tone grave. "While we may be immortal, we are not invincible. The gods can end us permanently."

A chill runs down my spine at her words. I'd witnessed it myself – a vrakken warrior, reduced to ash by a dark elf calling on divine energy. The finality of it was terrifying.

So much for the gods not intervening.

"And the sun," I add, recalling the horrific sight of a vrakken caught in the open as their glamour failed. "If we're weakened enough, it can..."

I grimace as I look down at the bodies blistered and ripped open by the rays. I've had sunburns before. But this is more like they'd been pulled from a burning building, bodies flayed open by the burns until their skin and muscle peeled away.

And yet, those people still moan. Nyx will have to ask Akeldama to come give his children rest.

"Yes," Nyx nods, her expression grim. "It can reduce us to practically nothing. A fate perhaps worse than true death."

The implications of this new knowledge weigh heavily on me. Our immortality, once a source of comfort and strength, now feels more like a curse. The possibility of endless suffering, trapped in a broken form, is almost too much to bear.

As I survey the battlefield once more, the true horror of our situation sinks in. We're caught between gods and mortals, with enemies on all sides. And now, even our own bodies can betray us.