Chukshene stared at the body of the elf still clutching tightly to the box. His emotions were muddled, and his face twitched from expression to expression. He seemed unable to decide where to put his hands.
He heard, carried on the wind, the long shriek of Gaket as the last of the cords died with Veil's blessing bleeding out of the elf's arm in oily drops of black ooze. Later, he'd scoop some of it up and store it in a little jar in his pack.
Gaket's scream was an agonised sound, torn from the very core of the creature's tattered soul and the warlock shuddered to hear it, knowing it was the last sound the King of Lichspawn would make.
The warlock found his eyes drawn to the town. The splotches of light as the buildings burned created flickering shadows and he squinted, trying to make out any sign of surviving Lichspawn.
Then the long wail came to an abrupt end, and Chukshene frowned.
Cocked his head.
The explosion which tore the town apart was something he didn't expect, and his eyes widened impossibly, drinking in the sight even as the blast rocked the ground. The thunderous sound punched his already punished eardrums and he slapped both hands over his ears in shock, his heart hammering furiously in his chest.
"What the-"
Fire raked the darkness and he flinched as debris rained down both within and around the walls. Watched in fascinated horror as Spikewrist seemed to give a final gasp before dying.
What had caused the explosion, he couldn't guess. There was an eerie echo to it that made him uneasy, but there was not enough gold in all the world which could make him return to the town to investigate.
Instead, the warlock shivered and hoped whatever splinters of darkness might have survived were too weak to emerge. Heightened by fear, he thought he could hear a child's cry. But after rubbing his ears, figured it was just the wind dragging itself through the town and out past the disintegrated gates.
He could almost feel the ghosts of the dead townspeople shuffling out across the plain. Where they headed, he didn't want to know. But he hoped they found some small sliver of peace.
Imagined, too, that he could make out the black smudge of Gaket's damned soul writhing in the sated flames left crawling across the town's shredded corpse.
"Good riddance," he muttered, turning away from the mournful sight. He shuddered again, but kept resolute in keeping his back to the town as though this simple act of defiance would keep him safe.
Almost believed it, too.
The elf was draped over the ground like a ragdoll. He knelt tentatively beside her. Wincing, the spellslinger prodded the box in her hand.
Breathed a sigh of relief when nothing happened as his fingertips flicked the lid fully open.
Empty.
"Hang on," he chewed at his lip and squinted. "Empty isn't good. Or is it? Fuck."
He tried to figure out what had happened. It'd been a blur. A heady mix of violence and confusion in the swirling aftermath of a spell he was proud to have cast.
He could swear the skin of her arm had turned as black as night and could only conclude that what was in Talek's box had caused the change.
He had a few good ideas what it was that emerged from Talek's box to invade the elf's body, but surely it couldn't have predicted the presence of Gaket's cords.
Perhaps the two had destroyed each other, he thought.
Studying the coffee-coloured flesh of the elf, it was hard to believe her skin was so black only moments before. If he tried hard, he knew he'd eventually convince himself he'd never seen her skin change at all.
It was a pity he hadn't been able to get it away from her before she'd opened it and he struggled to understand why he hadn't tried hard enough to do just that.
Perhaps he felt sorry for her, he thought bitterly.
He knew how she felt. It was all she had left of her husband. It wasn't her fault she didn't know what it was.
Or what it contained.
To her, it was simply a memento.
And Chukshene knew the value of keeping memories alive.
Her breathing was shallow, as though each intake of air was another wave of fresh agony to her. Even comatose, she looked wracked with pain.
But he had no doubt she was tough. Tougher than the wyrmskin she wore. So he figured he'd wait until morning. See if she woke. If she died, it wouldn't matter that Talek's box was empty or not.
And if she survived?
His eye caught hold of the glowing blade in her fist. He could take it. One quick slash over her throat and it would all be over.
This far from anywhere, who'd know if he killed her?
She'd be just another body in the snow.
Plenty of them around now. It would solve all his problems.
He lifted the cruel blade from her limp grip. Looked at it, admiring the quality of the enchantment.
Then slid it into the sheath at her hip.
Plucked the box from her other hand and dropped it into one of his pouches. Looked up at the sky. A small crack between the clouds showed the promise of stars.
It would be nice, he thought, to see the sky again. He was sick of clouds filled with snow. There was enough of it up north. Hadn't anyone told the clouds they weren't supposed to snow this far south?
He added the Deadlands to his list of things he hated.
In his lap, the elf moaned lightly. What dreams haunted her, he couldn't tell. If anything was buried in her flesh, it was now hidden in the darkest corners of her body and her dreams tonight would no doubt be made more nightmarish for it.
And those dreams were nothing compared to what would come later.
He didn't envy her.
Even if the darkness didn't kill her or drive her mad, there would be others who would try to use her. Others as ruthless as she, in their own way.
The warlock set his mouth into a grim line.
For her sake, he hoped she died in the night.
There was something fragile about her features. As though, hidden somewhere in the past was a face which may have been beautiful if only it hadn't been weaned on sorrow.
In that moment, he could almost see what it was Talek had seen in her.
"Ah, Nysta," he said, pushing her hair out of her scarred face. "You've really opened a can of worms."
***
Revenge of the Elf is also now available on Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FFDR15R3
If you enjoyed this story, you're in luck: I've written 11 books in this series, and I'm currently re-editing them for release. What you've just read is only the beginning.
đź“ś On Patreon.com/lucasthorn, I post regularly with early access, behind-the-scenes insights, lore breakdowns, and short stories. If you like getting inside the writer's head, that's where I live.
Your support means the world. Even if all you do is leave a rating, drop a review, or mention the book to a friend on Reddit — it all helps more than you know. Thank you for reading!