𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

73| No Man

(Art credit: Kookri's Art on Tumblr)

Hello. It's been...a while. This chapter sat unfinished in my drafts for like MONTHS and I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get it out. A lot has happened, and I am incredibly busy at the moment. However, I am not one to leave a project unfinished, and so, I thank each and every one of you who continue to put up with my sporadic updates. Love you ALL, and I hope you all understand <3

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My mouth was frozen agape in a silent scream, eyes widened as I watched the Witch-King stand over Aldion. The dreadful impact replayed in my mind over and over again, as if the repetition flashing before my eyes could somehow change the outcome.

I could see the shallow rise and fall of the Wolfhound's chest, the deep crimson of blood seeping through his fur, dripping into the ground.

My mind reeled in disbelief. It...it cannot be...

As tears blurred my vision, it almost didn't seem real; Aldion's blood staining the earth beneath him, the Witch-King standing over him, still wielding the iron mace dripping with his blood—the blood of my closest companion. The reality of the situation eluded me, slipping through my trembling fingers. How could this be? How could I have failed to protect him, my loyal companion who had risked his life for me time and again?

A tear fell from my eye, mixing with the grime and blood already staining my skin.

Guilt gnawed at my insides, consuming me and all my sense, the racing beats of my heart pounding within my eardrums like the sound of a thousand war drums.

All I could see was Aldion's barely moving body. All I could feel was the agonising pain eating away inside my chest and the rawness of my throat.

I did not even realise I had been screaming.

The Witch-King spoke, but the words were behind a shroud, as if distant, blurred. I watched as he turned away from the Wolfhound's fallen form, before stalking back towards me

But as my gaze turned back to the creature of the shadows, I felt my jaw clench, more tears streaming from my eyes as a new emotion clouded my thoughts. Pain seared through my body with every breath, and yet beneath each inhale and exhale through clenched teeth was an undercurrent of something more.

Anger. Piercing, churning, blistering anger. A new, seething rage that surged through every fibre of my body. My fists slowly clenched, enmeshing with dirt from the ground as I pushed myself up. Every bone, every nerve, every muscle fibre in my body screamed in protest as I rolled over and sat up, my mind struggling to block out the excruciating pain in my hand and my rib cage that exploded with every movement.

I could not help but let out a cry of pain. But it didn't matter. I would not die, lying face down in the dirt.

Now facing the Witch-King, my eyes narrowed into fiery slits, my chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, drawing air in and out of my lungs, as if fuelling the flames within. I could feel my nails digging into my palms.

The dark entity just snarled as it approached, each menacing step seeming to almost shake the earth beneath it, its presence radiating a terrifying darkness and malevolence. A coldness seeped into my bones, dread slowly piercing into every inch of my broken body.

"The time has come, elf." He spat with disdain as his towering form loomed over me, the flames dancing atop his sword whispering with doom and despair.

Heart pounding in my chest, I retreated backwards with grim determination, my hands desperately feeling the dry earth behind me. Blood dripped down my cheek, my head still reeling from the earlier hit. My remaining knives lay far out of reach, my dagger was long gone, and I knew the pin in my hair would do little to stop my surely gruesome demise.