Single for Eternity
Chapter 73: Chase

Chapter 73: Chase

Tauriel collapsed near her parents’ graves, her body trembling as the last of her sobs wracked through her exhausted frame. Her eyes, once bright and sharp, were now a deep, swollen crimson, raw from hours of relentless crying.

Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, carving wet trails through the dust and dirt smudged upon her skin. The night had fully descended upon the land, swallowing the once enchanting flora in an ominous embrace.

What had been a vibrant sanctuary of color and life now stood as a sinister garden of shadows, thick with an eerie silence that settled like an oppressive weight upon her chest.

A shiver ran down her spine as she cautiously glanced around. She had never remained here this late before.

The graveyard where her parents’ remains were interred was known to be a resting place for many—a sacred yet chilling ground. But now, under the looming darkness, it felt cursed, malevolent, as though unseen eyes bore down upon her from every corner.

Something moved.

Her breath hitched in her throat as her gaze snapped toward a gnarled tree standing tall against the midnight sky. Nestled among its twisted branches, a pair of glowing ruby eyes peered down at her, burning with an unsettling intensity.

The height at which they hovered suggested a towering form—one that made her blood run cold.

The ruby eyes locked onto hers, unblinking. Then, they shifted. A hulking figure detached itself from the tree’s concealment, stepping into the dim glow of the starlight.

Tauriel’s knees nearly buckled beneath her as she took in the monstrous sight before her.

A massive ork.

Green-skinned, tusked, and rippling with sheer muscle, the creature exuded power and primal menace. It wore little more than a ragged cloth tied around its waist, its bare torso a tapestry of scars. Its breathing was slow, measured, like that of a predator that had all the time in the world before devouring its prey.

Tauriel clenched the hem of her dress, her fingers trembling as sweat beaded upon her brow. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and every fiber of her being screamed at her to run—but her legs refused to move. The scent of the night, once filled with the sweet aroma of flowers, now reeked of something foul—of death, decay, and looming despair.

Then, a sharp, stinging pain jolted her from her paralysis.

She looked down in horror. Her feet—her legs—were covered in them.

Pests.

Dozens, maybe hundreds, of tiny creatures barely the size of a fingernail. Their minuscule bodies clung to her skin, their razor-sharp teeth burrowing into her flesh, stripping her inch by inch. They moved with horrifying precision, devouring her like a feast laid out for the damned.

Tauriel’s breathing turned to frantic gasps as her legs buckled under her, pain surging like wildfire. Her mind screamed at her, desperate to recall the warnings she had so carelessly dismissed: "Do not venture outside the town at night." And now, she understood why.

Panic surged through her veins as she kicked and clawed at her legs, trying to rid herself of the relentless vermin. But they clung on, crawling deeper, their bites growing sharper. She choked on a scream, her vision blurring from the agony.

A deep, guttural growl rumbled behind her. The ork had begun to move.

Its lumbering form closed the distance between them at an agonizingly slow yet deliberate pace, its heavy footfalls sinking into the earth with every step. Its eyes never wavered from her writhing form, as if savoring the sight of her suffering.

Tauriel had no choice.

With what little strength remained in her battered body, she forced herself to run.

Her legs moved on instinct, propelling her deeper into the wilds. Thorns and low-hanging branches tore at her skin, opening fresh wounds atop the ones already inflicted. Blood seeped from every scratch and gash, mixing with the pest-infested remnants of her flesh. The scent of iron was suffocating, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

The ork followed, slow but relentless.

Each heavy step it took reverberated through the ground, a chilling reminder that no matter how fast she ran, it would never stop chasing her.

Her lungs burned. Her vision blurred. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out the rustling of leaves and the whispers of the night.

She stumbled.

Her foot caught on an unseen root, sending her crashing to the ground. Her head slammed against the hardened bark of an ancient tree, and for a moment, the world faded into nothingness.

When her vision returned, everything was hazy. Her fingers twitched weakly, her breath rattling in her throat. The pain was unbearable. Every muscle screamed in protest, every wound pulsed with a throbbing ache. And yet, despite it all, she couldn’t move.

She lay there, staring up at the canopy above, the stars barely visible through the dense foliage. The realization crept over her like a suffocating shadow.

This was it.

This was how she would die.

Her life—her pathetic, miserable existence—flashed before her eyes. The memories of her parents, their laughter, their warmth. The nights she spent alone after they were taken from her. The burning desire for revenge that had kept her going for so long.

And yet, now that the moment had come, she found herself laughing—internally, at least. The irony of it all. She had fought, suffered, endured so much, only to die here, in the middle of nowhere, alone and helpless.

But then, their faces appeared again.

Not their bloodied, broken forms. Not the nightmares that haunted her every waking moment.

No.

This time, she saw them as they once were—smiling, alive, happy.

Her father’s rough, calloused hands lifting her into the air. Her mother’s gentle fingers weaving flowers into her hair. Their voices calling her name with love and warmth.

And in that moment, something inside her snapped.

The despair, the self-pity, the resignation—it all vanished, burned away by a single, searing thought.

She would not die here.

She could not die here.

Her fingers curled into fists, dirt embedding beneath her nails. Her breathing steadied. Her heartbeat slowed, but not in surrender—in preparation.

The ork was drawing closer, its presence a heavy weight against the fragile balance between life and death.

But Tauriel was no longer afraid.

Her oceanic eyes, once dulled by sorrow, now gleamed with a new, unyielding resolve.

’I will live.’

The words echoed within her, solidifying into something unbreakable. She would survive. She would make them pay. Every single one of them.

She would have her revenge.