Now, in the present, Volk stood frozen in his spot.
However, his eyes narrowed intently as he scanned the shadows for the source of the voice.
It was feminine, smooth and sounded like there was a tone of mocking in it, yet with an underlying tone of authority that made the hairs on his neck stand up was combined with it too. Discover stories with m,v l'e-
He turned, imdiately, his body tensed, and his gaze settled on a figure erging from the darkness.
She was tall and slender, her skin a deep, dusky hue that seed to drink in the dim light of the catacomb.
Her eyes glead with an eerie glow, a cold and calculating intelligence dancing in their depths. Her hair, long and as dark as midnight, cascaded down her back, interwoven with silver strands that shimred like stars caught in the night sky.
She wore a flowing, obsidian cloak that seed to ripple like living shadows, and beneath it, her armor clung tightly to her lithe fra, forged from so strange, dark tal that seed to hum with latent magic.
But what stood out most was the massive black wolf beneath her, with its eyes glowing dangerously with the sa eerie light as its rider's.
Its fur was as dark as coal, rippling with muscle and power, and each slow step it took sends a low, ominous rumble through the ground that could be felt in the whole catacomb.
The beast's fangs glead nacingly, long and sharp, ready to tear through flesh.
The woman gazed at them with an almost detached curiosity, as though they were nothing more than an amusing distraction.
"What kind of Orcs are you?" she asked, with a soft and calm, dangerous purr.
"Why are your colors different? I've never seen a color like yours. I've seen green, red, yellow, brown, etc., depending on the radioactive places or habitats they are hiding in. But I've never seen anyone like yours?"
Volk said nothing, his instincts screaming at him that sothing was very wrong. He kept his eyes locked on her, the grip on his axe tightening.
Before he could respond, a movent stirred behind the woman.
A group of Orcs and Elves erged from the shadows, their bodies adorned with intricate tattoos that glowed faintly in the darkness.
The designs twisted and coiled around their arms and faces, pulsing in ti with the magic in the air.
Their expressions were stern, their postures protective as they flanked the woman on both sides.
Volk's breath caught in his throat.
The tattoos... he recognized them
Not just the tattoos, but the Orcs and Elves too.
They looked very familiar.
However, the shock didn't co from the glowing ink alone. It was the faces.
The Orcs and Elves clothings…
The clothes… far too familiar.
Grounad, standing next to Volk, gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "You..."
Volk turned to Grounad, his brow furrowing. "What's wrong?"
Grounad's voice was low, shaky. "They... they're from Bloodfang Clan, the sa Bloodfang clan I ca from."
Volk blinked, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. "What?"
Grounad swallowed hard, his eyes darting between the Orcs and Elves standing beside the woman. "That's Grommash," he said, nodding toward a hulking Orc with deep scars running across his chest. "And that one is Murok." He pointed to another Orc, smaller but with a vicious gleam in his eye. "These... these were once our brothers."
Volk's jaw clenched, a knot of dread forming in his gut. "The Bloodfang Clan? But they were—"
"Dead," Grounad finished, his voice grim. "Or so we thought. But no, now I could see that they... they've joined her." His eyes flicked to the woman on the wolf. "A Dark Elven Witch."
Volk's heart skipped a beat. "What?"
Grounad's face was pale, his voice barely above a whisper.
"She... she's one of the Dark Elven Witches. They don't have horns like the other normal dark elves but they are far more dangerous to the point that they erased all the dark elves. They are the ones who... enslave others too."
The woman's lips curled into a small smile, as if pleased by their recognition. "Right," she said, her voice carrying a chilling authority. "But still, I ask again, what kind of Orcs are you? Your skin... your strength. It's different."
Her eyes glead with curiosity as she examined them, her gaze lingering on Volk, studying him as if he were a puzzle she was eager to solve.
Before Volk could respond, one of the Orcs standing beside her, a towering brute with a vicious snarl, spoke up.
"They are the Dreadmaw Clan," he said, his voice rough and filled with disdain. He pointed at Grounad, his sneer widening. "And he... he's from the Bloodfang Clan too. A traitor. He abandoned us to join them."
The woman's eyebrows lifted in surprise, her smile widening. "Dreadmaw Clan, you say? I thought I had already... tad them."
The Orc beside her nodded. "They were in the back, following. They are the weakest of the Hornless Orcs tribe, my lady."
The woman tilted her head slightly, her eyes never leaving Volk. "Weakest, you say?"
The Orc turned toward her, bowing slightly. "Should I fetch them for the master, my lady?"
The respect in his voice was palpable, as though he would lay down his life for her without hesitation.
Every movent, every word from the Orcs and Elves around her radiated loyalty and devotion.
Volk notices their movents and as they stare at her, like shadow slaves, they are silent but the sa ti they are watchful too, ready to act on her command.
The woman's smile grew, her eyes glinting with a dangerous amusent. "No need." Then she continued, "Why are their skins not green like the others?"
The Orc lowered his head respectfully and said, "I'm afraid I don't have any idea, my lady…"
The dark elven witch, still smiling, suddenly paused, and her smile faded as she looked at the Orc and asked, "You don't know?"
The Orc, clearly perspiring, nodded hesitantly. But then, imdiately, his head fell to the ground with a thud, followed by his muscular body.
Kabang!
Suddenly, the dark elven witch ordered the others behind her, saying, "Get them!" She added, "Just... beat them down. Weaken them." Her voice was casual and dismissive. "Once they've been softened up, I can ta them myself."
Volk's heart pounded in his chest as his mind began to ran a speed of thoughts. He couldn't allow this. He couldn't let her take them.
As she finished speaking, she turned her gaze away for just a mont, her focus shifting to the Orcs behind her, clearly expecting them to obey.
It was that mont that Volk seized.
Without a second thought, his hand shot out, gripping the handle of his axe. He swung with all his might, hurling it through the air toward the woman, the blade spinning end over end, a blur of deadly steel.
For a split second, ti seed to slow. The woman's eyes widened, with her mouth opening in surprise.
The Orcs and Elves around her tensed, so reaching for their weapons, others gasping in shock.
The axe hurtled through the air, its deadly arc aid straight at her chest.
And then—
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