Page 4 of Black Sea

Cries of incitement mixed with inhuman wails and the neighing of the horses. The creatures’ roars overshadowed the clash of swords.

And I was standing up here.

Still.

Safe.

Useless.

Sensing my inner torment, my mare started scraping the ground with her right hoof.

Forgive me, Father.

Even before I poked her with my heels, Ringil sprinted down the hill and, swift as the wind whipping my face, galloped toward the battle.

I had lost count of how many times I had faced Mornon’s monsters over the centuries on this very plain, but the fight I was in now was entirely different.

The soldiers’ dismembered bodies flew everywhere like rag dolls, and in an instant, a layer of warm, pungent blood covered me. I drew my sword, and Ringil moved poorly over the blanket of corpses on the ground.

“Father! Araton! Serie!” I shouted, killing as many beasts as I could while trying to reach the heart of the battle.

A trail of cobalt-blue power cut in front of me, causing Ringil to stop abruptly and rear. In the next moment, a body was flung at me, knocking me off the saddle. I fell onto the bodies, then quickly got up, trying to wedge my feet between the dead to find the ground.

“Run!” I yelled at my mare, who turned around and galloped back the way we came.

I continued moving forward, helping anyone in need until I eventually found my father.

I froze in place. My heart seemed like it was about to burst out of my chest. My eyes were so wide they burned.

Mornon had grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing. He was holding Erech’s spear in his other hand. He raised it as if he was about to lance my father.

Instead, he clenched his grip tighter until the magic wood broke in two, humiliating him.

Startled, I swiftly cut off the deformed hand of a monster that had lashed out at me without my noticing. I decapitated it and looked back at Father, gasping to see Mornon throw him against the carcass of one of his horrific creatures.

Unarmed, the king could only watch as Mornon advanced, holding a black broadsword that had appeared in his hand.

“Father!” I shouted and desperately darted over the scattered bodies.

Mornon lifted his blade, but just before he could strike King Erech’s head, Araton arrived and deflected it with his weapon, pushing the enemy back.

But he was infinitely more powerful than we were.

And my brother, the best elf fighter, was knocked down after a few mighty blows.

“Araton!” I screamed, driving one slit behind the other to get rid of the rotten beast that had attacked me.

Mornon raised his sword over my brother, who knelt before him with blood dripping from his nose, mouth, and eyebrow, ready to face death with honor.

“ No!” I shouted with all my breath.

I lunged forward, almost crawling into the circle of land where my family was—and that, apparently, no monster or demon dared to cross—knowing I wouldn’t get there in time.

But Serie could.

She appeared before her mate at the very last second, and the dark blade slashed diagonally through her torso, from shoulder to hip.

“ Serie!” Araton bellowed with such intensity and anguish that it felt as if the sky and ground were tearing apart.