The dwarf barely got a single word out before Elarien blurred forward. Her blade flashed once, far too fast for the eye to follow, and the dwarf collapsed in a heap before he even understood he'd been struck.

The other dwarf stumbled back, panic turning his face pale. He raised a pickaxe with a shaking hand, ready to swing even though he had no real chance. Elarien didn't give him the time to try. Her sword carved through the air in a smooth arc and severed his arm. His scream tore through the cavern, raw and full of terror, but the walls swallowed it almost immediately.

Elarien lifted her sword again, prepared to finish the job, but Edward darted forward and grabbed her wrist.

"Wait," he said, his voice low and sharp.

Her head snapped toward him. Her eyes were winter ice, cold and merciless, but Edward didn't back down. He turned slightly toward the wounded dwarf, keeping his grip tight.

"Why are you digging tunnels toward Valendell?" he asked.

The dwarf trembled violently, clutching the stump of his arm. His mouth opened and closed, but the words refused to come out.

Edward stepped closer, his tone hardening. "Why are you digging tunnels in the elven kingdom?"

The dwarf's eyes twitched upward, wide with terror. His fear twisted into pure hatred. "Why do you think? To kill them. To kill every last one of them!" he shouted, voice cracking.

Edward began to ask something else, but Elarien didn't wait. Her blade sliced cleanly through the air. The strike was swift and merciful in its brutality. The dwarf's head thudded against the stone, and silence followed.

Edward stared at her, jaw tight. "We could have learned more."

Elarien finally met his eyes. Her voice was calm, but the bite in it was unmistakable. "There was nothing more to learn. Their hatred is all they know. Those creatures always have and always will despise us."

Edward repeated her words silently. She really meant it. The disgust in her voice wasn't an exaggeration. Dwarves were clearly not high on her list of favourite species.

He looked ahead, and his breath caught. The tunnel stretched on endlessly, far larger than he imagined from above. Torches lined the walls, but there were so many shadows that the ceiling might as well not exist. The place felt ancient, deliberate, and wrong.

Elarien's voice pulled him back. "We need to inform the king."

Edward frowned at her. "And you are leaving our group on the mountain to freeze?"

Her lips thinned. For a moment, she looked like she might lash out again, but then she took a quiet breath and let her shoulders relax. She scanned the endless stretch of tunnel with narrowed eyes, trying to pick a direction.

Edward stepped beside her. "We find a way out, regroup with the others, then return to the capital."

She stared at him for a moment, weighing his words. Eventually, she gave a slight nod. The tension in her fingers eased, though the storm behind her eyes didn't vanish.

Edward crouched and placed his palm on the ground. Shadows spilt out from beneath him, pooling like dark water before rising into humanoid shapes. His summoned soldiers stood ready, their edges rippling faintly.

He gave a silent command, and the figures dispersed into the surrounding tunnels.

"This will save us time," he said. "These tunnels are too big to explore blindly."

Elarien didn't answer, but her gaze followed the drifting shadows with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

The minutes dragged. The silence pressed down on them, broken only by the distant echoes from the scouts. Edward kept his hand near his blade, prepared for anything. Elarien remained motionless, like a statue made of ice and precision.

At last, one of the shadow soldiers returned. It shifted its form slightly, a gesture Edward recognised.

"I have it," he said. He sprang to his feet. "Come on."

The soldier guided them through a twisting mess of tunnels. The air grew colder, and the stone underfoot became slick. They took sharp turns, squeezed through narrow gaps, and finally climbed a rough incline that led them to the outside world.

Cold wind slammed into them the moment they stepped out. Snow whipped past their faces. They stood on a steep mountain trail that stretched into jagged cliffs and pale, icy slopes.

Edward looked out across the unfamiliar terrain. "I think this is the opposite side of the mountain from where we came in."

Elarien nodded, her expression unreadable. The harsh wind tangled her silver hair as she studied the path ahead.

Edward tried to steady himself. Everything they had just seen underground left a knot in his stomach. "We find the others. Then we get out."

He stepped forward, then froze. A smear of red stained the snow.

He knelt, touching it lightly with his glove. The warmth jolted through him. Fresh blood.

He looked up sharply, scanning the path. More smears followed, leading down the trail like a grim breadcrumb trail.

"Elarien," he said quietly.

She was already beside him, eyes narrowed. "Stay sharp. Whatever happened here was recent."

Edward gripped the hilt of his blade and followed the trail. The blood led them deeper along the mountain's edge. The path narrowed, framed by jagged rocks and slick patches of ice.

The wind picked up again, howling through the cliffs like it carried warnings.

"Do you think it is one of ours?" Edward asked, voice barely audible against the storm.

"I cannot say," Elarien replied softly. "But whoever it is, they are hurt. And alone."

The trail led them around a bend. Edward slowed as he saw the slope ahead. The blood trickled downward along a steep incline.

"We need to move fast," he said.

They hurried carefully, their steps measured. The wind stung their faces. Loose snow slid beneath their boots, making the descent dangerous.

At the bottom of the incline, the trail continued toward a narrow ledge overlooking a frozen crevasse. There, lying motionless on the ice, was a figure.

Edward's breath hitched. "Someone is alive."

Elarien's grip tightened on her sword. "And in bad shape. We need to get down now."

Edward scanned the slope. It was harsh but workable. "Slow steps. Watch the ice."

They descended together, sliding slightly with each step. The closer they got, the stronger the scent of blood became. The figure tried to lift its head but failed. Snow had piled around them, stained with crimson.

Edward reached them first and knelt fast. The person was pale, shaking violently, and bleeding from a deep wound along their side. He pressed his hand against it, trying to slow the bleeding.

Elarien crouched next to him. Her eyes flicked across the injuries, sharp and focused. "We need to move them. They do not have long."

Edward nodded and adjusted his position to lift the injured person safely.

The wind howled around them, scattering snow across the ledge. The mountain felt unbearably vast, as if it were almost waiting to see if they would fail.

But at least they had found someone alive. That was something worth holding on to.

Edward met Elarien's eyes, and for a brief moment, they shared the same thought.

This was not over. The trail of blood had been only the beginning. The mountain still had more waiting for them.

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