The sun bled across the sky like a wounded beast, spilling molten orange light through the high-boughs of the ancient elven woods. Bark flaked with age. Roots snarled like sleeping serpents beneath their feet. And the forest, once quiet, now roared with fire.
"Run!" Darian shouted, voice hoarse, eyes flaring with desperation. "Lyle! Grab your sister's hand and run!"
Behind them, a hiss split the air — then a roaring WHOOSH!A fireball blasted through the upper canopy, igniting a crown of leaves. Sparks rained around them like hell-born snow.
Elena yanked Maia into her arms and ducked behind a crumbling root wall. Lyle skidded into a roll beside them, panting, his cheeks streaked with mud and ash.
Another blast struck nearby — this time a spear of ice, sharp and gleaming, slammed into a tree trunk and shattered. The wood cracked violently. Frozen bark sliced past Darian's face, cutting a red line along his cheek.
"They're too close!" Elena hissed. "We can't outrun them forever."
"We just need to reach the river," Darian growled, wiping blood from his cheek. "It's less than a mile. Once we cross it—"
A voice echoed behind them — high, cruel, and venomous:
"You think your monkey legs can carry you far, murderer?! The forest sees all!"
The children froze.
Darian didn't. "Go," he snapped, "now. I'll take rear!"
The forest churned with golden light as another spell charged — the telltale whine of elven casting hummed through the air. Elena bolted forward, holding Maia close. Lyle followed, glancing over his shoulder.
An elf emerged in the distance, long silver hair glowing like wire, his eyes narrowed with disgust. His lips curled.
"Human filth! You killed Lord Velas of the Shimmering House! There is no mercy for your kind!"
"Then you'll get none from me!" Darian shouted back, drawing a small hunting knife — more symbol than weapon.
The elf laughed, raising a hand. Fire bloomed in his palm — but the spell missed its mark. A sudden gust of wind—natural, not magical—threw off his aim. The fireball collided with a low tree, lighting it ablaze. Smoke surged.
The humans ran again, weaving between shadows and roots. Behind them, the elves shrieked in their tongue:
"Thorn-picking cowards!"
"Let them burn!"
"Split up — herd them like sheep!"
Maia clutched her mother's coat, whispering through tears, "Why are they doing this?"
Elena didn't answer. Her voice cracked when she finally said, "Because your father tried to protect someone he wasn't supposed to. That's all."
A sharp whistle rang — Darian's signal.
Ahead, the ground dipped. The trees thinned. Wind picked up.
Lyle pointed, gasping. "I hear the river!"
They broke through the last thicket — there it was: a wide ravine, splitting the land. Beyond it, faintly visible through the mist and pine, were high watchtowers and metal-tipped spears glinting in the fading light.
The Reich border.
"Keep moving!" Darian barked.
Behind them, leaves flared. Magic screeched. A spear of solid ice slammed into the dirt inches from Lyle, spraying soil and freezing bark into his side.
He yelped but kept running.
The family reached the cliff edge. A narrow wooden bridge swayed over the water — old, roped, barely fit for one at a time.
"I'll go first," Darian said, gripping the rope. "Then Elena and Maia. Lyle last. You cut the bridge behind us, son. Understand?"
Lyle nodded, too breathless to speak.
The bridge creaked, but it held. One by one, they crossed.
The elves broke through the forest behind them moments later — four of them, clad in bronze and leather, blades unsheathed and magic already burning in their hands.
"There! They flee like rats!"
"Bring down the girl first — let them watch her die!"
Darian turned mid-bridge, teeth clenched, and screamed back across the gap:
"YOU WANT BLOOD? COME TAKE IT!"
The lead elf raised a hand — fire bloomed.
But before the spell could be cast—
Shhhhnk—CLACK.
Over the edge of the ravine, dozens of rifles clicked into place.
From the misted treeline opposite the bridge, human soldiers in black coats emerged like ghosts — helmets gleaming, barrels raised.
One stepped forward, voice cold and sharp.
"DROP YOUR MAGIC. CROSS THIS LINE AND YOU DIE."
The air tensed like a drawn bowstring. A dozen rifles trained across the ravine bridge. Black uniforms blended with pine and shadow, but their steel glinted unmistakably. Behind their line, the Reich flag swayed in the wind — red, black, and iron.
Darian stood firm on the bridge, Elena and the children just behind him. The rope creaked under their weight. Mist from the river below rolled upward, cool and bitter.
Across the gorge, the elves halted — four in total. Regal, tall, with cheekbones like carved marble and contempt etched into every breath. Their armor shimmered faintly with runes. One bore a burn across his temple, still steaming.
The lead elf stepped forward. His golden cloak dragged against the mossy dirt. With his long, angular fingers raised, he gestured not to the soldiers — but to the family behind Darian.
"Commander of Men," he called out, voice regal but sharp. "Return the criminals to us — the ones who murdered the child of Lord Velas! That boy was heir to the Third Shimmering House. That girl was present. This family shall answer to elven justice!"
The human rifles held steady.
From behind the firing line, a man stepped forward — Commander Usheel. He wore a charcoal-grey officer's coat, buttoned to the throat, with a red armband strapped tightly to his left bicep. His face was calm, his eyes unreadable beneath a leather cap. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"Your claim is noted," Usheel said flatly. "But these people are under Reich protection now. They are human. That is all I need to know."
The elf's lip curled. "Your Reich will choke on arrogance."
Another elf stepped up, this one younger, eyes glowing faintly with fire magic. His voice seethed.
"You shelter a killer! A murderer of elven blood! The boy he slew was twelve! Twelve!"
Behind him, the older elf barked, "Silence, Lelyan!"
But the younger pressed forward anyway, flames licking around his palm. "Return them, or you drag your Reich into war."
Still, the rifles didn't waver.
Usheel stepped closer to the edge. "You're five miles past your treaty line. You've chased humans across sovereign soil. You've hurled magic across our border. That's three violations. And you speak of war like it's a threat?"
He nodded once.
The click of dozens of safeties disengaging echoed like a steel rattle across the canyon.
Usheel's voice dropped lower.
"Try crossing this rope bridge and you'll never see your homeland again."
The elf commander's face darkened, but he didn't step forward. He glanced toward the ravine, then the riflemen, then the family — and finally back to Usheel.
"This is not over."
Usheel raised a brow. "It is for tonight."
A long silence. Only the wind stirred between them, rustling banners and branches. The golden sun had vanished behind the treetops now, leaving the forest in the cold grip of twilight.
Eventually, the elder elf turned. "Withdraw."
The others hesitated.
"Now."
With gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, the elven soldiers retreated into the woods, firelight flickering around them as they vanished like wraiths.
The family collapsed behind Darian in a heap of exhausted breath and silent relief.
Elena held Maia tightly. Lyle stared at the rifles, wide-eyed. Darian bowed his head once, muttering a shaking breath: "Thank you…"
Maia whispered, barely audible: "Thank you… thank you so much…"
One of the soldiers lowered his rifle and knelt by the daughter's side. His voice was softer than expected. "You're safe now. It's over."
Usheel turned to his men. "Get the family inside. Medical first. Then debrief."
Two soldiers came forward with wool blankets and canteens.
Lyle winced as one wrapped his shoulder. "We thought we were dead."
"You would've been," the soldier muttered, "if you were ten steps slower."
Another soldier extended a hand to Darian. "Tent's this way. The commander will want to hear everything."
Elena stood slowly, arms still around Maia. "We'll tell him. All of it. Everything they've done."
Lyle helped his father up. "You saved us…"
Usheel turned away without responding and stepped back toward camp.
As the humans crossed the final stretch of bridge, soldiers kept their rifles pointed at the treeline, just in case.
The elves didn't return.
Only the wind and fading firelight remained.