Essenla squinted at the crystalline dagger held in the hand of one of the elves.
It was more of a work of art than a weapon, with a short, leaf-shaped blade of dark green crystal that looked like it might shatter at the slightest of touches. But that beauty belied the danger it held, as its sharp edges had sliced through the Runner's skin with no more effort than it took to cut a string.
Which begged the question as to why they had waited so long to use them.
Essenla voiced this question, her tone accusatory as she thought of the elves that had died today.
"Their losses pain me more than they affect you, human," the elf man said darkly.
He held aloft the light green dagger in his hand, putting it between him and the sun above and letting it scatter the sun's rays across his face in a dazzling pattern of green.
