Luke's head was spinning as he scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. The impact of the dark elf tackling him had left him dazed, but Ilyrana's swift kick had sent his attacker sprawling to the ground. For a fleeting moment, Luke thought they'd bought themselves some space—until he saw Ilyrana being dragged away by another dark elf, her form twisting as she fought off her new attacker.
The distance between them was growing, and every instinct in him screamed to stay close to her, to not be left alone in the midst of this ambush. But even as he started to edge in her direction, a shadow flickered before him. The male dark elf—the same one Ilyrana had kicked away—had risen to his feet, and a glint of hatred flashed in his eyes as he locked onto Luke. In one swift motion, he lunged forward, his blade aimed with deadly precision.
