Télos turned away from the blazing sun, sweat dripping down his face in heavy drops. The sun was Vieira's ally today—a strategic advantage she wielded as mercilessly as her weapon. She knew the light would blind him, making it near impossible to counter her attacks. But Télos wasn't new to her tricks. They'd trained together since childhood, and while her ingenuity kept him on edge, he prided himself on recognizing most of her tactics.
As Vieira lunged, Télos raised his right arm, his blade catching hers with a metallic clang. His left-hand twin blade intercepted a second strike aimed for his neck. The ferocity of her assault was unrelenting, and the force of each parried blow echoed in his bones.
Her weapon, a chain with viciously sharp blades at each end, was a nightmare to defend against. In the hands of someone as skilled as Vieira, it was a lethal dance partner, spinning and slicing unpredictably. Télos knew he had to close the distance between them. If he could bring the fight into close combat, he'd have a chance to turn the tables. Of course, that meant facing those blades up close—but at least then, he'd have an opportunity to draw blood.
The chain hissed as Vieira spun it, whirling faster than his eyes could track. She hurled it with devastating force, and Télos barely managed to dodge, the blade slicing past his ear. He darted forward, only to hear the ominous whistle of the chain reversing its path. Instinct kicked in, and he leapt out of its trajectory just in time.
"Too slow," she called, her smirk visible even through the dazzling sunlight.
She retracted the chain with a fluid motion, spinning it into arcs that lashed the air around her. Télos twisted and turned, his blades moving to block her strikes, but her weapon was relentless. He caught one blade mid-swing, only to feel the other slice across his shoulder. The sharp sting of pain made him wince, but he didn't have time to react before she sent the chain snaking around his ankle and yanked hard.
Télos crashed to the ground with a thud, dust rising around him.
"Nekros' ass!" he cursed, rolling to avoid the follow-up strike that would've pinned him to the dirt. He scrambled to his feet, blades still in hand, and faced her again.
Vieira stood poised, her chain coiled loosely in one hand, spinning idly in the other. Her smirk deepened, a silent taunt. Télos narrowed his eyes. He just needed one opening—one chance to wipe that smug look off her face.
With renewed determination, he surged forward. His feet barely touched the ground as he closed the gap between them, his body a blur of motion. The chain came at him again, but this time he was ready. He vaulted into the air, flipping to evade the blades, and hurled one of his swords mid-spin.
The blade grazed Vieira's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to pause. Then Télos landed, his remaining blade poised for the decisive blow. Before he could strike, a sharp tug on his ankle sent him sprawling once more.
"Too slow," Vieira repeated, standing over him with a grin as she blocked out the sun. The chain was wrapped tightly around his ankle, her victory complete.
"And the winner is Vieira—again!" someone shouted from the crowd that had gathered to watch. Laughter rippled through the onlookers as they began to disperse, returning to their tasks.
Télos groaned, spitting out a mouthful of sand. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Let's see any of you stand up to her."
The remaining spectators chuckled as he dusted himself off, muttering under his breath. When he finally looked up, Vieira was still there, her expression smug as ever.
"So, are you going to give me a rundown of my mistakes, or just stand there like you've slayed a dragon?" he asked, feigning boredom.
Vieira chuckled, coiling her chain with practiced ease. "You think too much, Tee. I've told you before—let fighting be instinct, not overthought strategy. I can practically see the gears turning in your head when we fight. You're fast, almost faster than me, but you hesitate. You overthink, and it makes you predictable."
Télos sighed, half-listening as she listed his faults. He didn't need a lecture to know he was outmatched—experience had taught him that much. Still, her words carried weight, and he filed them away for later.
"On the bright side," she added with a grin, wiping the blood from her cheek, "you made me bleed. That's, what, the third time?"
"Fourth," Télos corrected quickly, a hint of pride slipping through his tone. It was rare to land a hit on Vieira, and each time he did, it felt like a small victory.
She nodded, acknowledging his improvement. "Not bad. Let's call it a day."
Vieira slung her chain over her shoulder and headed back toward her shop, leaving Télos alone in the clearing. With nothing else to do, he wandered toward the stream, craving the cool relief of the water.
He bypassed the busier section of the stream where villagers gathered and headed toward the secluded waterfall. Few dared to venture there, the steep drop and roaring waters a constant reminder of its danger.
Stripping off his sweat-soaked clothes, Télos waded into the lukewarm water, leaving only his undergarments on. He sank beneath the surface, holding his breath until his lungs burned. When he finally emerged, gasping for air, he felt the tension in his body ease. Tiny fishes scattered as he moved, their darting shapes a welcome distraction.
But peace was fleeting. His thoughts drifted to the past, as they often did when he was alone.
It had been four days since his encounter with magic—four days since he'd felt the icy tendrils of power coursing through his veins. The sensation had faded, but its memory lingered, gnawing at him. His anger had become harder to control, flaring at the slightest provocation.
He couldn't ignore the connection. Magic wasn't just dangerous; it was deadly. He knew it had played a role in his mother's death, even if Gran refused to confirm it.
Gran. His surrogate mother and the closest thing to family he had. Télos had seen her speaking to the earth when she thought no one was watching. The lilies behind their hut thrived despite the barren soil, their vibrant blooms a testament to her power.
And yet, she kept her abilities hidden, using them sparingly, if at all. The house remained spotless despite her refusal to sweep. The ground around their home was free of cracks, an oasis in a harsh land.
Télos had never questioned her. He knew better than to pry into secrets she clearly wanted to keep. She had raised him, cared for him, and that was enough.
For now.
As he floated in the water, watching the clouds drift lazily above, Télos resolved to find answers. About magic. About his mother. And about the strange power stirring within him. He couldn't ignore it forever.
The crunch of heavy footsteps shattered Télos' thoughts. He froze mid-motion, straining to hear over the rush of the waterfall. The sound was coming from behind the trees. Cautiously, he emerged from the stream, water trickling down his body, and reached for his blades resting nearby on the bank.
Before his fingers could close around the hilt, an arrow thudded into the ground, so close to his hand that the shaft quivered. The message was clear: a warning. Whoever had fired the shot was skilled and wanted him alive—for now.
Télos hesitated, withdrawing his hand. He considered diving back into the water, but another arrow struck the bank, inches from the edge. He was effectively cornered. His eyes darted toward the trees, scanning the shadows. Movement caught his attention, and his heart sank.
Orcs.
Eighteen of them, bristling with weapons and malice, emerged from the cover of the forest. Their skin was a sickly green, their tusks jutting like cruel daggers. Among them, a towering figure with a broken tusk and a massive broadsword strapped to his side stood out. His presence exuded command and savagery.
The leader's voice boomed. "Hold him!"
Two smaller orcs charged forward, seizing Télos by his arms. Their grip was ironclad, and he didn't resist, not yet. His mind raced, calculating his next move.
"What do you want?" Télos demanded, masking his fear with defiance.
The leader stepped forward, his voice carrying a sinister pride. "I am Bloodtooth, leader of the orcs. I walk this path to conquer the town that lies ahead." His jagged scar, running from ear to jaw, looked fresh, as though it had only recently healed.
Télos smirked, though his pulse quickened. "Bloodtooth, is it? Sounds more like Bloodstick to me. Listen, if you value your sorry hide, you'll turn back now. That town has faced bigger threats than you. Your bones will make fine ornaments for Sir Prim's garden, though."
The orc leader's jaw tightened, a vein bulging in his temple. Télos pressed on, testing his limits. "Besides, orcs don't have leaders. You lot are just headless brutes, roaming in packs and causing chaos. So, who are you to claim to be their ruler?"
Instead of erupting in fury, Bloodtooth chuckled, a deep, unsettling sound. He strode forward, his gaze locking onto Télos. "You humans are always so amusing. Your arrogance blinds you to your own foolishness. I am Bloodtooth, slayer of rulers, bringer of chaos, deathbringer, and beastmaster. I will make this world tremble, and anyone who stands in my way will feed the earth with their blood."
As Bloodtooth closed the distance, Télos noticed something odd. The orc's eyes weren't the typical muddy brown or gray of his kind. They were green—vivid, intelligent, and calculating. A chill ran down Télos' spine. These were not the eyes of a mere brute.
Bloodtooth grinned, sensing Télos' unease. "Kill him," he commanded, his voice calm, almost bored. Then he turned and walked away, as though the matter was already settled.
Télos acted. With a sudden burst of strength, he headbutted the orc holding his right arm. Pain exploded in his skull, but the grip loosened. Seizing the moment, he wrenched the sword from the orc's scabbard and swung, severing the arm of the second orc. A guttural howl of pain echoed through the trees.
The first orc stumbled backward, fear flashing in his eyes. He turned to flee, but Télos was faster, lunging toward him with the blade raised. Before he could strike, a sharp pain lanced through his shoulder. He staggered, glancing down to see an arrow embedded in his flesh.
The archer.
A second arrow struck his thigh, and Télos dropped the sword, his leg buckling. His breath came in ragged gasps as he looked toward Bloodtooth, who stood a few paces away, watching the scene with a twisted smile.
The one-armed orc crawled to Bloodtooth's feet, sobbing and clutching his stump. "Master, forgive me! I have failed you."
Bloodtooth's expression darkened. In one swift motion, he drew his broadsword and decapitated the orc. Blood sprayed the ground as the leader wiped his blade on the grass and sheathed it, unbothered by the carnage.
Télos stared in disbelief. He had faced orcs before, but this was different. This was cold, calculated brutality.
"Finish him," Bloodtooth ordered.
The remaining orc dragged Télos to the edge of the waterfall. No amount of struggling could free him. Télos tried to twist away, but his strength was fading. With a powerful shove, the orc sent him over the edge.
The world spun in a blur of roaring water and jagged rocks. Télos hit the pool below with a bone-jarring splash. His lungs screamed for air as he fought the current, his injured arm and leg making every stroke agony. A large branch floated nearby, and he clung to it, letting it carry him to the shore.
Gasping, he crawled onto the rocky bank, his vision swimming. The arrow in his thigh had grazed the bone, and every movement sent searing pain through his body. Gritting his teeth, Télos snapped the shaft and yanked the arrow free. He stifled a scream, biting down so hard he thought his teeth might crack.
Blood seeped from the wound, and his breaths came in short, shallow bursts. The grunts of orcs above reminded him he wasn't safe yet. Limping, he made his way along the edge of the waterfall, the crashing water masking the sound of his movements.
Behind the cascade, hidden in the shadows, lay a cave he had discovered years ago but had never dared to explore. Now, it was his only chance. Carefully, he stepped onto the slippery stones leading inside, the water drenching him anew.
The darkness was disorienting, but his eyes adjusted quickly. As he ventured deeper, he kicked something hard. It rattled like dry bone, and he winced, crouching to examine it. His heart stopped.
It was no animal bone. It was enormous, jagged, and unmistakably draconic.
A dragon's skeleton.
The skull loomed before him, its teeth still sharp, its hollow eye sockets staring into the void. Télos approached cautiously, his fingers brushing the smooth surface of the bone. A sudden surge of energy rippled through him, and he stumbled back, clutching his head as a strange pressure invaded his mind.
Gasping, he pushed himself upright. Something deeper in the cave called to him, an irresistible pull that he couldn't explain.
Following the invisible tug, he came to a secluded alcove. There, nestled in a bed of stone, was an egg. It shimmered faintly, black with flecks of glowing blue that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat.
A dragon egg.
He reached out, his hand trembling. The moment his fingers touched the shell, a jolt of electricity coursed through his body. His vision blurred, and the world tilted. Darkness consumed him, and he collapsed beside the egg, unconscious.