Liraiel: The Final Patrol

Twilight hangs over Ashenvale like a heavy shroud, thick with soot and ash — an eternal reminder of how Sylvanas and her Horde dogs burned Teldrassil. The air is heavy and sickly-sweet: the smell of charred wood, damp earth, and the faint, nauseating scent of burnt flesh. Underfoot, blackened branches crackle like brittle bones.

I still see it in my dreams. I still hear the screams of my kin, the ones that make blood run cold in your veins. The Horde are traitors. The orcs are savages who followed her like a pack of starving wolves. And now, while our leaders are occupied in the north, these green-skinned bastards who remain loyal to Sylvanas continue to defile what little is left of our home. The portal to the Shadowlands bleeds darkness in the north, like an open, festering wound.
But we, night elves, will never forgive. Not ever. Not anyone.

I walk at the front along the old path where leaves once shimmered silver under the moonlight. Now everything is black with soot. My bow is in my hands, an arrow already nocked. My movements are precise, almost silent — Shadowglen Academy hammered that into us, drop by drop. My hair is woven into a tight braid so it doesn’t interfere, and the bowstring presses against my shoulder. Eyes the color of moonlight scan every bush and shadow.
This is my first real patrol. Everything before this was just training and simulations. My heart beats faster than I’d like, a volatile mix of fear and seething rage burning in my chest.
Behind me walks Talorien, my mentor. Gray-haired, his body covered in scars from countless battles, his voice always low and calm like an ancient oak.
“Remember, daughter,” he whispers, touching my shoulder. “Rage is a blade. If you grip it too tightly, it will cut your own hand.”

On my flanks walk Kaelin and Elara. They’re a little older than me and have already tasted blood in skirmishes near the borders. Kaelin is sturdy, with short blond hair and a quiet smile he reserves only for Elara. Elara is lithe, with long braids and a sharp tongue she constantly uses to tease him. But I see the way they look at each other. There is warmth between them. A spark. Something alive in this dead forest.
I look away and grip my bow tighter.

“Maybe that’s why my hatred burns so strongly?” I think. “Because I have nothing left. They have each other. All I have is revenge.”
Talorien is the first to break the heavy silence.
“Birds have been silent for a long time. It’s too quiet.”
I nod without turning around, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The tracks on the ground are old, but among them are fresh ones — deep prints left by heavy boots. Orcs. Sylvanas’s dogs have grown far too bold since the portal opened.
Kaelin quietly places his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“After Teldrassil, they think we’re broken.”

Elara snorts, her voice dripping with venom.
“Let them come. One arrow in the eye for every burned leaf.”

Talorien cuts us off sharply, gesturing for us to spread out.
“No heroics. If you see anything — fall back and report immediately. We’re more useful alive. Move.”
We spread out. I move forward, and suddenly the wind carries a new scent — heavy, musky, mixed with the stench of rotting meat and sour sweat. My heart begins to beat faster. A rustle in the bushes. Too quiet for the wind. The spiderwebs between the trees are torn, and branches are snapped at orc-chest height.
“Something’s wrong...”

The silence explodes.

A roar. The sound of heavy footsteps. Six orcs burst out from behind the trees and up from the ground, as if crawling straight out of the Shadowlands. Massive, clad in rusty armor and filthy furs. The stench hits me like a punch to the face.
One immediately charges at Kaelin. Another fires an arrow at Elara — she rolls aside, cursing viciously. Talorien looses an arrow, and the nearest orc collapses with a pierced throat, gurgling and choking on his own blood.
But their leader is already upon us.

Grotmuk — a hulking bastard with iron rings in his tusks and a massive two-handed axe. His eyes burn with savage fury. The axe swings with terrifying force. Talorien only manages to partially dodge.
The blade sinks deep into his chest. Hot blood sprays in a fountain, soaking the ground and his gray beard. The old warrior drops to his knees, looking straight at me.
There is no pain in his eyes. Only one silent word: “Run.”
I scream. The sound rips out of my throat.

The second blow finishes him. Talorien’s body collapses heavily onto the scorched earth without a sound.
The world narrows to this single moment. My hands are shaking, my fingers barely able to hold the bow. Everything inside me turns to ice and fire at the same time. His last words echo in my head: “Rage is a blade...”
I clench my teeth until they creak.

Then this blade will not dull. It will become sharper.
I come to my senses from a throbbing, burning pain in my face, as if struck by a hammer. The thick, nauseating metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. My head is ringing, and the world returns in torn fragments. My nose is broken, my lips are swollen and bleeding. I’m on my knees in cold mud and ash, my arms brutally twisted behind my back. The rough rope has already cut into my wrists, drawing blood.
The first thing I see clearly is Kaelin.
Oh, Elune ... no ... please, no...
They had pinned him to a thick tree trunk with a sword. The blade had entered his chest at an angle, just below the collarbone, and exited through his back, nailing his body to the tree like a butterfly. He was still alive. His chest rose and fell heavily, each breath turning into a wet, gurgling rasp. Bloody bubbles formed and burst on his lips, running down his chin. His clouded gaze found Elara first ... then slowly shifted to me. In those eyes was unbearable pain, guilt, and a silent “forgive me.”
Kaelin ... my first man. My first true lover.

Memories wash over me like a hot, almost painful wave.

I’m back in that warm tent at Shadowglen Academy, where the air smelled of herbs, moonlight, and their bodies.
I was so young then — an inexperienced priestess full of girlish dreams. Kaelin and Elara had already been a couple for a long time: beautiful, confident, and experienced. They noticed my longing glances and one night simply invited me into their tent.
Kaelin kissed me first — deep and commanding, stealing my breath. His large, warm hands slipped under my tunic and slowly spread my thighs. His fingers gently stroked my smooth, completely hairless pussy. Night elves have no coarse hair like humans, orcs, or other races — only soft, silky skin and sensitive, quickly swelling petals. We also have no human hymen. Our sex is always ready to open — hot, wet, and inviting.
“So soft ... already so wet for me...” he whispered against my lips, sliding two thick fingers inside me.
I moaned into his mouth. At the same time, Elara kissed my neck, then moved lower. She greedily captured my hard nipple between her lips, sucking and gently biting it until I arched in pleasure. Then she slid further down, pushed Kaelin’s hand aside, and pressed her hot, wet tongue against my throbbing pussy. She licked me with long, slow strokes — from my entrance to my swollen clit and back again — until my whole body began to tremble.
Kaelin knelt in front of me. His thick, hard cock pressed against my slick folds. He entered me slowly, very slowly, letting me feel every inch as he stretched and filled me completely. When he was fully inside, I moaned loudly. He began to move — deep, rhythmic, claiming me with strong, confident thrusts.

Meanwhile, Elara straddled my face. Her smooth, dripping pussy lowered onto my lips. It was the first time I licked a woman. I did it eagerly, though clumsily, tasting her sweet nectar. She ground herself against my tongue, moaning, while Kaelin fucked me harder and deeper. I came first — hard, shaking violently, clenching around his cock. He followed soon after, filling me deep inside with his hot seed. Elara came on my tongue, thighs squeezing my head as she trembled and whimpered in pleasure.
That was only the first night. There were many more. They taught me how to give and receive pleasure, how to tremble under the touch of tongues, fingers, and cock at the same time.