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A dull ache settles in my chest. Perhaps the greatest wound comes from the wedge these whispers drive between me and Ghorzag. While I believe his intentions, the question haunts me:Could he truly uphold his vow against a tide of orcish hostility?If the clan demands blood, tradition might compel him to yield—or risk losing the chieftain’s seat. And if he lost the seat, the next leader would surely cast me out anyway.

Catching me in my spiral of dark thoughts, Nagra approaches, concern etched on her face. “Lirienne,” she murmurs. “I heard some orcs calling for your exile. Are you all right?”

I force a brittle smile. “I’ll survive. I just… I’m not sure how much longer the clan will let me stay.”

Her expression grows pained. “I’m sorry. So many of them cling to fear. They’d rather blame you than admit a traitor walks among us sabotaging us.”

I swallow, forcing down the lump in my throat. “Thank you for caring, Nagra. I appreciate having at least a few orcs who don’t see me as a monster.”

Her hand squeezes mine. “If Ghorzag stands with you, maybe that’ll be enough.”

Her words try to soothe me, but the seeds of doubt have already taken root. Even the chieftain’s power has limits. If Gaurbod rallies enough orcs to his cause, might Ghorzag have to choose between his clan’s demands and me?

By late evening, the fortress’s tension reaches a fever pitch. Word of the “fouled water” has spread like wildfire, and rumors of “human witchcraft” along with it. Everywhere I go, I hear hushed arguments, see warriors exchanging guarded looks, and sense the roiling undercurrent of potential violence.

The knowledge of Gaurbod’s involvement weighs heavily on me. I toy with telling Karzug or another trusted warrior, but Ghorzag has said he’ll handle it. Yetdo I trust that’s enough?The question gnaws at my insides.

In the courtyard, I catch sight of Gaurbod himself, flanked by two warriors, walking with a swaggering confidence. His eyes slide over me without pause, betraying no fear—only a cool, calculating satisfaction. My stomach lurches.He knows I overheard something, I suspect. Or he doesn’t care who overhears. His posture radiates the arrogance of one who believes he’ll soon seize power.

I turn on my heel, retreating before he can confront me. My hands tremble.He’s so certain he can topple Ghorzag.If that’s true, then no vow from the chieftain can save me. I bite my lip, a swirl of panic threatening to overwhelm rational thought.

No. Calm, I tell myself.You have to be strong, or the clan will devour you.

I avoid the communal gathering spaces, ducking away from the suspicious glares. My feet lead me, almost unconsciously, to a secluded passage behind the storage rooms—one of the few quiet corners I’ve found in this fortress. A small torch sputters in its bracket, casting dancing shadows on the walls as night comes.

I sink against the cold stone, letting out a shaky breath. My eyes close, memories of home flooding in—the farmland, the day I volunteered to come here, how naive I’d been about forging peace.

“Running from ghosts?” a voice rasps, startling me.

My eyes snap open to see an orc figure looming at the corridor’s far end, half-hidden in shadow. My heart leaps to my throat, terror spiking. Has Gaurbod sent someone to corner me?

But as he steps forward, the faint torchlight reveals an older orc with a ragged scar across his mouth, wearing the clan’s warrior leathers. “Didn’t mean to scare you, human,” he says, though no warmth laces his tone.

I straighten, fists clenched at my sides. “I—I’m not running,” I lie.

He gives a short, mirthless laugh. “Could’ve fooled me. Rumor is you’ll be gone soon enough—one way or another.”

Cold dread slides through my veins. “Is that what they’re saying?” I ask, voice trembling despite my resolve.

A slow nod. “Warriors gather in secret, forging alliances. Gaurbod might make a formal challenge if Ghorzag won’t cast you out.” His eyes flick over me with something akin to pity. “The clan’s in turmoil. You’re at the heart of it, whether you want to be or not.”

I swallow, throat dry. “What do you believe?”

He shrugs. “I think the War God’s wrath is real enough. But sabotage could be part of it too. Doesn’t matter. The clan’s fracturing. If you stay, more blood might spill.”

My chest tightens, tears threatening. “I came to prevent bloodshed,” I whisper, more to myself than him.

He offers no comfort, only a grim shrug. Then, with a final hollow look, he turns and vanishes down the corridor. I stand there, breathing ragged, the weight of the clan’s hostility crashing down around me like a collapsing wall.

I can’t keep living like this, the words echo in my mind, an anguished refrain. I think of Ghorzag, of how he insists he will protect me. But more and more orcs are calling for action—some for exile, some for outright violence. Gaurbod’s cunning manipulations threaten to spark a mutiny. Even if Ghorzag wins a direct confrontation, the bloodshed might be immense.

A sob chokes my throat. I slap a hand over my mouth, refusing to break down fully.No. I’ll talk to him again, one last time, and then… I’ll decide. If leaving spares him a civil war, maybe that’s the path I must take. But how about my village? What should I do?

Yet as I force myself away from the shadows, heading toward my tent, the specter of distrust looms large.Could Ghorzag truly stand against the tide of fear rising in his clan? Or am I clinging to a sliver of hope that might drown us both?

10

GHORZAG