14- Hiding behind your trees?

The air was filled with the screams of creatures, punctuated by the heavy thud of massive branches crashing to the ground.

The horde was a grotesque amalgamation: trolls with skin thick as rock, wielding obsidian clubs; lycanthropes with dark fur, their fangs dripping blood; and sylphs, brandishing blades.

Against this destructive tide, a group of elves stood firm.

Whips of vines coiled around enemy legs, yanking them to the ground; walls of thorns erupted, piercing enemy ranks with terrifying precision; and massive roots surged, like living serpents, crushing and immobilizing assailants.

At the heart of this deadly dance, one elf stood out.

The trolls' roars echoed like thunder, five massive giants smashing everything in their path. Their clubs, the size of small trees, cleaved the air with brutal force.

They surrounded the elf.

The elf didn't move. She closed her eyes briefly, her fingers brushing a flower woven into her robe. Then she opened them: two blazing green embers.

The first troll charged, its club swinging down at her. The elf spun, dodging the strike. Her hand grazed the ground, and a massive root shot up, coiling around the troll's leg. With a sharp gesture, she sent the giant crashing backward, slamming into the earth with a deafening roar. Before it could rise, thorn-covered vines erupted, spearing its chest like lances.

The other four trolls hesitated, but their blind rage soon took over. Two attacked at once, their clubs aimed at the elf's frail frame.

She leaped back.

"Vaelthar."

A giant tree trunk exploded into a swarm of razor-sharp shards, flying at blinding speed.

The trolls had no time to react: the projectiles pierced their bodies like massive arrows, forcing them back with howls of pain.

The last two trolls growled, now more cautious. They advanced slowly.

The elf raised her arms above her head.

"Elyar."

Antlers sprouted and twisted, forming two enormous arms that rose, then slammed down with crushing force. The trolls were reduced to dust under the impact, their shattered clubs falling beside their lifeless bodies.

A brief silence settled, but the elf had no time to savor her victory.

A guttural growl made her turn.

Two lycanthropes emerged, their lean but muscular forms slipping between the trees.

The first lunged, its claws slicing the air like daggers. The elf raised a hand, a barrier of vines springing up to block the attack.

But the lycanthrope tore through the barrier and charged her. The elf rolled aside, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp claws. Before it could turn, she made a swift gesture, and roots shot from the ground, binding its legs. With a fluid motion, she hoisted the creature into the air, smashing it against the ground again and again until its body went limp.

The second werewolf was already on her.

It leaped with a feral scream, its jaws aiming for her throat. The elf dropped to her knees, slamming a hand against the ground. A massive branch erupted, striking the creature mid-flight. It crashed heavily to the earth, stunned.

The elf walked calmly toward it, raising her hand one last time. An entire tree tore itself from the ground, its roots wrapping around the lycanthrope like a living prison. With a sinister crack, the tree crushed its enemy, ending the threat.

Then a sharp whistle cut through the air.

The elf spun just in time to dodge a blade of wind that grazed her cheek, leaving a thin cut. She stood slowly, her blazing green eyes lifting to the sky.

Above her, a harpy beat powerful wings. Its black plumage gleamed, and its razor-sharp talons shone like blades. Its golden eyes fixed on the elf with amusement.

"Sorey," the elf murmured, icy contempt in her voice. "Reduced to playing lackey for a dragon. Disappointing, even for a creature as vile as you."

The harpy let out a sharp, cruel laugh. "And you, Fenya? Are you proud to die for an ideology that no longer exists? Our forest has a new king, and you're only delaying the inevitable."

Fenya clenched her fists, but her expression remained calm, almost impassive. "You're mistaken. I'm not the one delaying the inevitable. You're the one who abandoned your freedom."

Sorey's eyes narrowed, but a mocking smile curled her lips. "It's funny how your people cling to denial. No matter. Get ready, little elf. Your defeat is already sealed."

Fenya took a deep breath. "We'll see," she murmured, raising her hands to the sky. A network of massive trees began to rise behind her, their branches forming a living cage.

The harpy's roar split the air, followed by a gust so violent Fenya had to brace herself, digging her feet into the ground. Shards of branches and swirling leaves whipped around her, hurled by the furious wind Sorey controlled.

Fenya stood still, her hands slightly raised. The trees groaned, their roots tearing from the earth, while vines danced like serpents ready to strike.

"?" Sorey taunted, diving suddenly, her talons aimed at Fenya like daggers.

Fenya dodged with a roll, springing back to her feet without pause. She thrust out a hand: a thick barrier of thorns shot up instantly, forcing the harpy to soar back into the sky.

A piercing cry erupted from Sorey's throat, followed by a razor-sharp wind blade. The barrier shattered, and Fenya, thrown back by the impact, crashed hard against a tree trunk.

She grimaced in pain but rose quickly, wiping a drop of blood from her lip. "That all you've got?" she said, her tone cold.