"They were under Sol'vur's protection," Jorghan said, his voice deadly quiet.

"You weren't here!"

Swana shot back, her grief making her bold.

"You were at the Council, playing politics, while we were facing warriors who could exterminate us in minutes. We had to make a choice, and we chose our people over yours!"

Sigora placed a hand on Jorghan's shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles, the barely controlled rage threatening to explode.

"What happened to Grace and Scarlett? Both of them?"

Sik'ra's expression became even more pained.

"We told the Terraspers we'd bring them. Grace was in the guest quarters, sleeping. Scarlett was in the training yard, practicing with her weapons. We went to get them, explained the situation, and asked them to surrender to save the settlement."

"Grace agreed immediately," Swana said quietly.

Of course, she would. Jorghan thought.

"But Scarlett…"

"Scarlett refused," Sik'ra finished.

"She said she'd rather die fighting than surrender to whoever had sent these warriors. She grabbed her weapons and ran toward the Terraspers, firing, trying to kill as many as she could before they killed her."

Jorghan closed his eyes, already knowing how this ended but needing to hear it confirmed.

"They shot her," Swana whispered.

"Multiple times. Their weapons tore through her body in seconds. She fell, and even then she was trying to reload, still trying to fight. So one of them, the one who could create fire, he... he burned her. Right there in the courtyard. Turned her body to ash and charred bone in seconds."

"Then they threw what was left at our feet," Sik'ra added, his voice raw with suppressed emotion. "Like she was garbage. Like killing her meant nothing. They took Grace, loaded her into their flying machine, and left. Just vanished into the sky before we could organize pursuit."

"Sarhita and the other elders tried to follow," Swana continued.

"But the machine was too fast, and by the time we could mobilize, they were already gone. We had no way to track them, no idea where they went.

We failed, Jorghan. We failed to protect them."

The courtyard was silent except for the sound of Swana's renewed crying and the evening wind moving across the dunes.

Jorghan stood perfectly still, his blood essence swirling around him in patterns that became increasingly violent, increasingly unstable. His crimson eyes blazed with fury that went beyond anything he'd shown at the Council or during the battle with the Empire.

Scarlett was dead. Burned to ash by humans from Earth because she'd refused to surrender. Grace was taken.

It must have been his uncle Jamie.

But how on earth did he find this settlement, and how was he able to find such strong people?

And his own people, the elves he'd left here thinking they'd be safe, had handed them over without a real fight.

"For the safety of the clans," Jorghan said slowly, his voice carrying something that made Swana step back involuntarily.

"You gave up two people who mattered to me.

For safety."

"We had no obligation to protect alien creatures!"

Swana protested, desperation making her defensive. Seeing how her people were being killed, she didn't care about Scarlett and Grace; she didn't know them well enough.

That's what happens when someone's home is threatened. The kindness turns into selfishness, and pure instinct forms to protect what matters to them.

Not everyone had the strength to fight for a stranger when it meant risking their own family's safety.

"They weren't elves, weren't our people, and weren't our responsibility! What were we supposed to do, let hundreds of our own die for two humans who came from another world?"

"Yes," Jorghan said simply.

"That's exactly what you were supposed to do. Because they were my people, and that makes them Sol'vur, regardless of their species. You should have fought. You should have made the Terraspers pay such a high price that they'd never consider attacking this settlement again. Instead, you taught them that threatening elven civilians is an effective tactic."

"We would have all died!" Swana shouted.

"You weren't here! You didn't see how powerful they were, how quickly they killed our warriors, or how helpless we were against their weapons and abilities!"

"Then you should have died," Jorghan replied, and the absolute coldness in his voice made even Sigora flinch.

"You should have died defending what was yours rather than surrendering it to save yourselves."

He turned away from them, his blood essence expanding outward, his rage needing an outlet before it consumed him from inside.

*

About half a mile from the floating island, carved by millennia of water erosion, stood a canyon.

It was a natural landmark, a deep cut through rock layers that showed geological history in exposed strata. The canyon was maybe two hundred feet deep and half a mile long, a permanent feature of the landscape that had existed since before elves settled this region.

Jorghan looked at it, his vision blurring red with fury, his bloodline screaming for violence, for destruction, for anything to channel the rage threatening to tear him apart.

He pulled back his fist, channeling blood essence through his arm, through his muscles, concentrating power that he'd never attempted to focus into a single strike before.

Then he punched.

Not a person.

Not at an enemy.

At the air itself, directing the force toward the distant canyon.

He wanted to let out his rage, which was boiling inside him.

The shockwave was visible.

A cone of compressed air and blood essence that expanded from his fist, crossed the half-mile distance in a fraction of a second, and struck the canyon with force that defied comprehension.

The canyon exploded.

The rock that had stood for millions of years disintegrated.

Entire cliff faces turned to powder. The rock layers that had accumulated over ages simply ceased to exist as a structure. The shockwave continued through the canyon and into the desert beyond, creating a trench that extended for another mile, sand fusing into glass from the friction and heat.

When the dust settled, the canyon was gone.

Just... gone.

Replaced by a rubble field and a scar across the landscape that would be visible from miles away.

The floating island shook from the shockwave. Buildings swayed, trees creaked, and loose objects fell from their positions. Every elf in all three settlements felt the impact, felt the ground tremble, looked toward where the canyon had been, and saw only destruction.

Swana collapsed to her knees, staring at what Jorghan had just done with a single punch, understanding finally just how powerful he'd become and how much he'd been holding back during every interaction she'd ever witnessed.

Sik'ra's face had gone pale, his earlier anger replaced by something closer to fear.

Even Kaleth, the massive Swarafa who'd seen a number of battles, took several nervous steps backward, his animal instincts recognizing a predator beyond his ability to comprehend.

Sigora moved to Jorghan's side, her hand finding his arm, grounding him before his rage spiraled completely out of control.

"Breathe, Jorghan. Destroying the landscape won't bring Scarlett back or help us find Grace."

"I know," Jorghan said, his voice rough.

"But if I didn't hit something, I was going to kill everyone in this settlement for their cowardice."

"They made an impossible choice," Sigora said quietly.

"Fight and die, or surrender and live. Most people choose life."

"Most people are weak," Jorghan replied.

"And I'm tired of weakness being rewarded."

He turned back toward Swana and Sik'ra, his expression still carrying fury but slightly more controlled.

"Where's Sarhita? I want to hear this from her, who actually made the decision."

"In the Nuwe'rak settlement," Swana whispered.

"In the council chamber. She... she can barely look at himself. The shame of what we did, of what he chose..."

"Good," Jorghan said coldly.

"She should be ashamed."

Jorghan wasn't thinking straight; he was consumed by rage at the loss of Scarlett.

She was just a helpless woman, a young woman who had gone through so much since she was young. He promised her he would never let anything happen to her, but she died…and he couldn't do anything.

They walked toward the river, where a rope bridge connected the ground settlements to the floating island.

As they crossed, elves emerged from their homes, drawn by the sound of the canyon's destruction, staring at Jorghan with expressions mixing relief at his return and fear of his obvious rage.

In the center of the settlement stood a council chamber, a large open-air structure where the elders of the three clans met to discuss matters affecting their shared territory.

Sarhita sat alone inside, her aged face showing lines that hadn't been there when Jorghan left for the Council. She looked up as they entered, and her expression crumbled when she saw Jorghan.

"Jorghan," Sarhita said, her voice carrying the weight of terrible guilt.

"I... we... there are no words sufficient to express—"

"Then don't try," Jorghan interrupted.

"Just tell me exactly what happened. Every detail. I want to understand precisely how the Terraspers were able to walk into this settlement, kill the warriors, and take people under my protection without being completely destroyed."

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