The forest trail curved tightly between two sharp hills, flanked by gnarled trees and thick undergrowth. It had rained earlier that day, so the ground was soft, their boots sinking slightly with every step. Most of the outlaws kept their heads low, hoods drawn, weapons loosely gripped. Celeste stayed near the back of the group, watching the treeline more than the road itself.
They were too late to sense the danger.
A twang of string cut through the stillness, and then everything happened at once—arrows flew overhead, not loosed but nocked, threatening. A shimmer of arcane light lit up between the trees. Dozens of men stepped out from the underbrush, half dressed in steel and chain, the other half cloaked in mage robes or leather, all of them surrounding the road.
Ahead, the trail was blocked—more soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder, swords drawn, shields ready. Celeste's eyes widened. They were surrounded. Perfectly trapped.
The outlaws froze. Some instinctively reached for their weapons. Genkil cursed under his breath. Darvic smiled madly. A few of the younger ones glanced back, but there was nowhere to run. They were in a trap. Deep, deliberate, and perfectly laid.
The captain of the soldiers at the front stepped forward, sword casually resting over his shoulder. He was tall, lean, with hair pulled back into a tight knot. His armor wasn't polished like a noble's, but he bore the confidence of command.
"Well, well, well," he called out, voice rich with mocking satisfaction. "Look who we've found. A fine collection of thieves and forest rats. And here I thought today would be dull."
No one in the outlaw group answered. Varen stood at the front, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked quickly from soldier to mage, to archer, calculating.
The captain tilted his head. "You're surrounded. We know who you are. But we're not looking to start a massacre."
He gestured, and several soldiers stepped forward, readying spells or aiming crossbows.
"Just surrender. Lay down your arms. You'll be treated fairly. You have my word."
Varen's gaze slowly moved to the treeline, where archers had bows drawn, ready. Then back to the road ahead. Then to the side trails. He didn't flinch. His arms remained crossed, and his voice was calm.
"Then why haven't you started already?" he asked coldly. "If you have the upper hand, why offer a deal?"
The captain raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Because I don't enjoy pointless bloodshed. My men don't enjoy dying, even if it's for coin."
From behind him, a soldier leaned in and whispered something. The captain's eyes flicked over Varen's shoulder.
"Move aside," he called to the outlaws standing midway in the group. "Let me see that girl in your ranks."
Varen didn't move. His jaw clenched slightly, but he said nothing.
"I said move aside!" the captain barked, louder this time.
Some of the outlaws hesitated, then began stepping aside, unsure of what was happening. Murmurs rippled through them. Genkil stood rigid. Darvic narrowed his eyes.
And then the captain saw her.
Celeste stood there, her hood half drawn, auburn hair tangled from the road, eyes wide and glassy. Her skin was pale from days of healing and travel. Her clothes still bore dried blood, dirt, and weather.
The captain's smile returned, wider now.
"Oho," he said, "the vampire girl."
Celeste took a slow, terrified step backward. Her breathing picked up. Her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum.
Varen looked back at her, then at the captain. His voice was even. "What about her?"
The captain stepped forward, letting the point of his sword lower to the ground.
"Quite some time ago," he said, "we were informed that a vampire had been spotted wandering these territories. Matching her description. Young girl, wounded. Dirty. Dangerous. The price for bringing a vampire in far outweighs whatever petty bounty your band carries."
He paused, and then gestured broadly.
"So here's what I propose. You hand her over. The girl. And we forget all about you and your recent crimes. The soldiers walk away. You walk away. Everyone wins."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Varen said nothing.
But the air changed.
The other outlaws began murmuring among themselves.
"She's one of us…" someone said, uncertainly.
"But she just joined."
"We don't even know if she's loyal."
Celeste couldn't breathe. The words crushed her chest like invisible hands. Her vision trembled. Her hands were at her sides, but her fists were clenched tight. She couldn't stop shaking.
'I knew it', she thought. 'I fucking knew it! I can't rely on anyone. No one's different. Everyone lies. Everyone runs when it gets hard.
She bit her lip so hard it almost bled. The tears welled in her eyes without warning, blurring her vision.
Varen stood motionless as the air tightened around him. The accusing murmurs behind him weren't loud, but they were sharp enough to cut through the tension. His gaze remained locked on the soldier captain ahead, but in his mind, he was already evaluating the path through blood. His fingers twitched near the hilt of his sword. He'd already begun planning who he would cut down first if it came to that.
He exhaled slowly, a sound that barely escaped him. "What worthless cowards…" he muttered under his breath.
Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a voice rang out behind him, clear and firm.
"We will not hand her over!"
All heads turned.
Varen looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. "Hoo…"
Genkil stepped forward from the crowd, his hands balled into fists.
"She's no vampire," Genkil said, louder now, eyes sweeping across the gathered outlaws. "More importantly, she's one of us now. She walked the road. She bled like we did. And she didn't betray us when she had a chance."
A murmur passed through the group again, but this time with a different tone. There was uncertainty, but also a flicker of respect. Some looked at Celeste. Others looked at their feet, ashamed.
Then Darvic grunted, stepping up beside Genkil with his hammer over his shoulder.
"He's right, you gutless bastards," Darvic growled. "She's rough around the edges, but if she wanted to cut our throats or turn us in, she would've done it by now. She had the chance. Didn't take it. That counts for something."
The soldier captain's expression darkened. "I'm not talking to you. I'm speaking to your leader."
Varen turned back to face him, slowly drawing his sword in one fluid, deliberate motion. The sunlight kissed the metal's edge. He rolled his neck once, cracking the tension.
"Well," Varen said casually, "they couldn't be more right. She's on of us."
The captain's eyes narrowed.
"She ain't a vampire," Varen continued. "And we don't throw our people like dogs to be slaughtered in the dirt."
The silence snapped.
With a single flick of his fingers, Varen gave the signal.
Behind him, the hidden mages in his ranks raised their staffs. A wall of earth erupted from the forest floor in front of the outlaws, reinforced with shimmering magical barriers. Arrows thunked against it uselessly. Explosive spells detonated in bursts of light and flame but were absorbed by the barrier.
Before the soldiers could regroup, Varen was already moving.
He blurred forward with terrifying speed, cutting a narrow path around the edge of the wall. His sword shimmered with a faint enchantment. The captain turned just in time to see him coming, but not fast enough to react.
Varen's blade cleaved clean through his neck. The captain's head fell to the ground with a dull thud, his body dropping half a heartbeat later.
"You bastard!" one of the nearby soldiers roared, rushing forward with sword raised.
Varen caught the attack and parried hard, sending the blade off course. But a second soldier was already on him, slashing in a wide arc. Varen didn't have the room or time to fully dodge—he twisted, raising his left shoulder to absorb the blow and protect his neck.
The blade sliced across his upper arm and skimmed above his brow, cutting deep. Blood sprayed across his face, and he staggered.
Another soldier closed in for the kill, but a massive crack split the air.
Darvic's hammer slammed into the man's chest with enough force to send him flying backward, smashing through underbrush like a thrown doll.
And then the chaos began.
The outlaws surged past the crumbling earth wall, battle cries echoing through the forest. Steel met steel. Spells flashed. Mud churned underfoot.
Celeste was among them, her daggers gleaming, hands still trembling slightly. But the moment she entered the fight, all doubt melted away.
A soldier came at her with a short spear, jabbing. She spun to the side, deflecting it with her right blade and slicing at the man's thigh with her left. The strike wasn't deep, but it staggered him. He went down on one knee, and she kicked him backward with her injured leg, hissing as pain shot up her side.
Another guard lunged, and she ducked low, slashing upward and carving a shallow cut along his arm. He grunted, reeled back, and was finished off by a sword from behind—Genkil had her flank.
Celeste's body screamed in protest. Her shoulder flared with every swing. Her stomach burned from the recent wound. But she kept moving. Kept fighting.
For the first time in a long time, someone had defended her. And she wasn't going to let that go unanswered.
A mage fired a bolt of energy toward Varen, who was bleeding heavily but still standing. Celeste saw it before he did—her legs moved without thinking. She sprinted and hurled one of her daggers, striking the mage's staff and throwing the spell off course. The blast exploded into a tree.
Varen looked back at her. Just briefly. But enough to meet her eyes. He gave her the faintest nod before charging back into the fray.