"You've done enough, Lieutenant." Lothar shook his head; Blackmoore's words were like a sharp knife stabbing into his chest once more. In fact, he bore full responsibility for this failure.
The rescue operation continued. Khadgar released his magic, constantly probing the surrounding life force and magical aura. Soon, his divinity received a response: beneath the collapsed spire of the Great Hall ahead, a faint arcane barrier was visible.
These haphazardly piled-up fragments of the city walls were clearly being supported by external forces. Compared to this gradually weakening arcane energy barrier, Khadgar slowly raised his hand, and a powerful external force lifted the collapsed spire. Khadgar was adept at this level of levitation magic.
Surrounded by the arcane barrier's energy, a mage used his body to protect the elven girl in his arms. The posture looked awkward, but it shocked all the soldiers and mages who had come to the rescue.
A warm, holy light emanated from Turalyon's hand, enveloping Leylin in its divine glow. A gentle, spring-like warmth flowed through Leylin's body. Revival, redemption—Leylin barely opened his eyes, letting out a long sigh: "I'm saved."
Soon after, Turalyon and Khadgar found the surviving elven rangers and warriors in Durnholde. They had been scattered throughout the towns within the fortress by the orcs, but the orcs had no time to pursue them, and their casualties were low.
After the rescue and learning of the low casualties, Sir Lothar felt a sense of relief.
As the Supreme Commander of the Alliance, he had to devise a new strategy to counter the advancing orcish hordes. The fact that these orcs weren't in a hurry to engage them in a decisive battle made Lothar uneasy.
Fortunately, the soldiers' morale was high; there was still a chance to turn the tide.
Alleria didn't attend the evening meeting. Since being rescued, she had stayed by Leylin's side.
Leylin had told her several times that he was fine and this injury is nothing, and that she shouldn't worry too much. The ranger captain was stubborn, and she wouldn't listen.
Unable to persuade her otherwise, Leylin could only lie down and sleep. When he woke up, it was already night. Opening his eyes, he saw an oil lamp hanging near the tent flap.
The light wasn't very bright, so Leylin extinguished it and then used a small spell to create a light source. The small fireball that shone was quite useful for illumination.
Leylin's actions woke Alleria, who was lying beside him. She also looked exhausted; after Leylin fell asleep, she also went to sleep.
"Are you feeling better?" Alleria asked through gritted teeth, enduring her grief.
"Yes, much better. This time, the orcs' invasion of Hinterlands had a very clear objective. Tyr'ganal was clever; after the Horde army scattered the human forces, he led the elven squad to the western towns. They survived well, with only a few wounded." Leylin was relieved; at least, the members of his squad were all alive.
Without a word, the silent Alleria took a white towel and carefully wiped the burn marks on Leylin's face. Not only that, Alleria opened her magical pouch and took out spare medicine she had brought from Quel'Thalas.
Sir Lothar had sent Tirion Fordring to deliver medicine earlier that day, but Alleria had refused, saying she could take care of Leylin herself.
"Take off your clothes," Alleria said after wiping the ashes from Leylin's face and applying medicine. The atmosphere was awkward. Although Leylin felt a stinging pain all over his body, he remained reserved.
"Let Tyr'ganal do it," Leylin said.
Alleria sat down beside Leylin, her eyes filled with a mixture of resentment and sadness, staring blankly at him, waiting for him to take off his clothes.
"Fine. I give up. I'll take them off. " When Leylin took off his assassin's coat, he noticed that some part of his skin was stuck to the clothes.
This was probably caused when he was hit by the burning spires while escaping the dragon's flames. The pain, radiating from his skin, shot straight to his heart.
It was even worse than the feeling of arcane energy spiraling out of control within his body. Halfway through removing his clothes, Leylin's arms trembled. Beads of sweat streamed down his forehead as he endured the pain.
Alleria tried to help, but before her fingers could even touch his arm, Leylin steeled himself and used his arcane energy to begin separating the skin and flesh clinging to his clothes. It was just a superficial wound; Leylin didn't hesitate for a moment.
Once it was off, a faint smell of blood wafted from Leylin's chest. Alleria had seen elves injured; most of them would cry out in pain. But Leylin hadn't. After enduring the excruciating pain, he even managed to smile. A smile as pale as his lips—it wasn't funny at all.
Looking at Leylin's back, still bleeding black blood, Alleria's pale fingers trembled. She turned Leylin around so she could tend to his wounds herself. Carefully wiping, disinfecting, and applying medicine, Alleria did everything she could.
Her shoulders trembled, and her rapid breathing masked her sorrow. She had been trying to control herself, but why did this man always make her suffer so much?
He was her younger sister's, her own sister's lover, Alleria had reminded herself of this more than once. But she still couldn't resist the longing and hope in her heart. As if bewitched, Alleria felt like she was losing herself in his presence.
She had been a ranger captain before, in Silvermoon City, in every place in Quel'Thalas. But by his side, she wasn't.
She only wanted to be an ordinary elven girl, to see him smile, to see him look at her peacefully, to cherish her—that was enough.
More than once, she had dreamed that this man had built a small hut somewhere in Eversong Forest, that he was researching his arcane constructs in the courtyard, and that she was there to cook dinner for him inside.
"Does it hurt?" Alleria sobbed.
"Uh, it's alright, I can handle it." Leylin's shoulder blades twitched slightly as he spoke. But damn, it stings even though he had [Sage Body] its not where he could just tank everything on his way.
"Liar! You annoying liar." Alleria's tone was gentle, a mix of reproach and affection.
"I can't see your face, but I can feel it. You're crying, Alleria." Leylin said.
He should have known; nothing could be hidden from him. He was a mage, a student of two of Silvermoon City's most outstanding magisters.
"Didn't you tell me before that a leader shouldn't complain or cry? You've already forgotten in just a few days." Leylin comforted Alleria.
Alleria applied medicine to Leylin's last wound, then pulled his face close to hers. Looking at Alleria's glistening cheeks, her disheveled and slightly split hair, Leylin felt that Alleria was at her most beautiful now.
"You look so beautiful today, more beautiful than I've ever seen before," Leylin said with a silly grin.