Two months had passed. Eryndor was now a full-fledged fighter. Through relentless training day and night, he had honed his skills to mastery. His name was now widely recognized as a proficient user of Pbv. After a grueling session, he sat on a wooden bench to rest. A flock of birds gathered around him, perching nearby.
"Now, let's begin," Eryndor muttered with a sinister smile. The moment the birds sensed his bloodlust, they scattered, their wings slicing through the air in a frenzied escape.
Eryndor stood alone near a waterfall. The sound of cascading water echoed through the forest. He seemed to be waiting for someone. No guards accompanied him—he was entirely exposed, yet utterly calm.
An elf, the bird keeper, emerged and sat beside him. "I never thought you'd return to this place."
"The things that give you nightmares are often the things that fill you with adrenaline," Eryndor replied, rising to his feet. His gaze drifted to a group of figures moving suspiciously in the forest.
"So, what brings you here?" Eryndor asked.
"Oh, birds, as always," the elf said, standing as well.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Eryndor fixed the man with an intense stare.
"Of course," the elf replied, stepping back cautiously.
"You traded Lyriel to the humans, didn't you?" Eryndor's tone darkened. "They tortured her before slaughtering her like an animal. Am I right?" His Pbv ignited with a crackling energy.
"No, what are you talking abou—" The elf's denial was cut short as Eryndor grabbed him.
Eryndor's hands trembled for a moment before he tightened his grip, shattering the elf's bones. Each crack echoed Lyriel's cries in his mind, fueling his rage but also a deep, hollow ache in his chest.
"Ahhh! No, please!" the man screamed.
"Why? What did I—" The elf could barely form words through the searing pain, flailing helplessly on the ground.
A group of men rushed toward them, their leader shouting, "Eryndor! Stop!"
One of them smirked, "Well, thanks to you, we don't have to deal with him ourselves."
Another drew a knife from behind his back. "The bastard deserved it. Should we finish this together?"
Eryndor's back was turned to them, his voice cold. "Cut the chatter. Attack me, or I'll make the first move."
The man lunged, stabbing Eryndor in the back—but the blade shattered upon impact.
"What....?" The man froze, sweat beading on his forehead.
Eryndor turned slowly, his expression unreadable. In a flash, he disabled everyone in the group, breaking their limbs with terrifying precision—except the man with the knife.
The survivor gasped, "What proof do you have?"
"So, instead of asking why I'm attacking you, you immediately demanded proof. Are you scared that I've figured everything out?" Eryndor said,circling him like a predator.
"When the bird owner first approached us, he offered Auraberries—a fruit that doesn't grow in our forest. That was my first clue," Eryndor began, his tone cold and deliberate. He took a step closer, his shadow looming over the trembling man.
"But then there was the glass slab. After your little ambush, a shard of glass fell from his pocket. You see, we don't use glass here. It had to have come from outside the forest. That was my second lead." He crouched slightly, locking eyes with his prey.
"I wasn't convinced until I asked my father about any reports of elves leaving the forest. He told me no one had gone beyond the borders—no one except for royal servants. And that's when the pieces started to fall into place."
Eryndor paused, his voice lowering into a sinister whisper. "But do you know what truly gave you away? The birds. Those golden birds with their fluttering tails—sacred to our forest. After you beat the owner, you killed one, didn't you? But you dropped a feather, a complete golden feather. At first, I couldn't figure it out. Why leave a feather that didn't match the bird you supposedly killed? It didn't make sense."
He straightened, his eyes sharp and calculating. "So, I visited his home. And there it was—a collection of feathers. Birds he had slaughtered, feathers he had smuggled to you for trade with humans. But there was one feather missing—one from the golden bird with green stripes. It wasn't there."
Eryndor leaned in, his breath hot against the man's ear. "That told me everything. You only give him feathers from birds already sold. Since you haven't sold this one yet, there was no feather to drop. Sloppy, wasn't it?"
The man's breath hitched as Eryndor's words sunk in. "You thought you were clever, but you underestimated me. And now, you'll pay for every life you've taken, every betrayal you've committed."
The man's defiance faltered. "All that is just a theory. You can't act without concrete proof."
Eryndor smirked. "You want proof? Let me show you something."
Birds descended en masse, landing around Eryndor.
"What is this?" The man's bravado shattered as panic overtook him.
"My ability," Eryndor said. "I control animals. The larger they are, the harder it is to maintain control, but these birds? They're perfect."
"You think you're righteous, Eryndor? You think Lyriel's blood is on my hands alone? Open your eyes! The humans would have come for us eventually. I did what I had to—what no one else had the courage to do!"
Eryndor severed the man's limbs, leaving him to scream in torment. Wolves with countless eyes emerged from the shadows, each one hungrily circling the helpless group.
"After you broke the forest's laws, you ventured into the human world and struck a deal. Human women in exchange for our sacred treasures. Greed consumed you. You targeted our sacred birds, whose lives could heal any wound. Then you escalated—offering young elf girls.
"You kidnapped Lyriel, studied her innocence, and traded her to humans. They didn't just torture her—they desecrated her. For that, I'll make you suffer."
At his command, the wolves tore into the men, piece by agonizing piece. Their screams filled the forest, echoing like a twisted symphony of vengeance.
"Lyriel," Eryndor whispered, gazing skyward. "May their screams reach you. This is my requiem for you."
The blood-soaked earth churned as a crimson river formed. Above it all, Eryndor stood, his eyes devoid of mercy.
Eryndor knelt by the blood-soaked earth, his fingers brushing a golden feather. "Lyriel, I've avenged you. But why does this victory feel so hollow?"
Four Days Later
In the training grounds,
Isolde adjusted her braid, mimicking the way Aeris tied hers. She glanced at Eryndor, hoping for a reaction, but his eyes never left the training field."
"Why are you so obsessed with Aeris?" Isolde came near Eryndor.
"She's my only friend," Eryndor replied calmly. "She's endured so much just to stand by my side. That's all there is to it."
As he turned to leave, Isolde cried out,
"I became her shadow, Eryndor," Isolde said, her voice breaking. "I thought… if I could just become Aeris, you'd finally see me. But you never did. And now, I don't even know who I am anymore."
"No," Eryndor said coldly. "Because you're not her."
Isolde sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face. As she clenched her fists, she began gathering Pbv in her palms. "I'll wait for you," she whispered.
Years passed, and Eryndor sought solace not in vengeance but in love. On his wedding day…...
Eryndor and Aeris stood at the altar, exchanging vows. Aeris placed the ring on his finger, Eryndor's thoughts wandered to the forest. The screams, the blood—Lyriel's face frozen in fear. He had been consumed by rage back then, but Aeris's unwavering presence had pulled him back. She reminded him there was more to life than vengeance. She gave him hope.
As Eryndor kissed Aeris, a single golden bird soared above the castle. For a moment, it lingered, then disappeared into the horizon, taking the weight of the past with it.
Isolde watched from the crowd. Quietly, she slipped away, reaching the castle's exit.
Outside, Eryndor appeared not Isolde and he vanished into thin air.