The Unseen Power

The scent of blood still hung in the air.

The elf's body lay motionless on the earth, his hand still outstretched as if reaching for something he would never have again.

His face, frozen in a twisted mixture of shock and agony, was an unspoken testament to the instant, merciless death he had received.

And the one responsible?

Ed stood there, his sword still humming faintly with residual energy, blood dripping from its razor-sharp edge.

His crimson eyes lifted, scanning the remaining elves.

There were thirty of them.

Some stood frozen, stunned that one of their own had been cut down so easily.

Others reached for their weapons.

Then—

Vynesaa took a sharp breath.

She hadn't even seen him move.

One moment, Ed was standing there—calm, composed. The next? A sword had materialized in his hands, and an elf was dead.

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[POV: Ed]

Well, I was expecting this.