Page 14

Chapter 13

M y footsteps pounded over the rough path as fear clawed at my chest. Elias’s name rose to my lips, but I bit it back, terrified of what calling out might confirm. I searched every familiar spot as I raced past—the clearing where he liked to play, the old fence he’d often climb—scanning for any glimpse of him. The quiet edges of town blurred around me, my mind spinning through every awful possibility, each one worse than the last.

Just as the panic rose to a breaking point, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I skidded to a halt, heart hammering, only to feel a swirl of leaves and the scent of wildflowers surround me. Mrs. Crumble materialized at my side, her large eyes brimming with concern.

“Soraya,” she said, her voice calm, like a balm against the storm raging inside me. She placed a small hand on my arm, steadying me, but the silence stretched unbearably, the terror in my chest refusing to settle.

Finally, she spoke, her gaze softening. “Master Vorgath has sent word. Elias is with him, safe at his home.”

The relief hit me like a wave, so overwhelming that I had to brace myself against a wall to keep from collapsing. “He's... he's at the cabin? With Vorgath?”

Mrs. Crumble nodded. “Yes, dear. The boy is perfectly fine.”

As the panic ebbed away, confusion took its place. “But... why? How?”

Mrs. Crumble patted my arm. “I'm sure there's a good reason. Why don't you go see for yourself?”

I nodded, still reeling from the emotional whiplash. After a quick word of thanks, I set off toward Vorgath’s forge, my heart still racing, though now for different reasons. Elias was safe. But what had happened?

The familiar route to the forge stretched before me, but each step felt heavy, my legs still shaky from the panic. By the time the silhouette of the cabin appeared through the trees, the rhythmic clanging of metal on metal reached my ears. What once seemed intimidating now felt like a beacon, pulling me closer.

My feet moved faster, nearly breaking into a run as I followed the well-worn path around the cabin until the forge loomed ahead, smoke rising in lazy tendrils from its chimney.

And there, sitting on a sturdy wooden stool next to Vorgath, was Elias. His small face was alight with wonder as he watched Vorgath's powerful arms bring the hammer down on a glowing piece of metal. The sight of my son, safe and utterly captivated, nearly brought me to my knees with relief.

“Elias!” I called out.

Both Vorgath and Elias turned at the sound of my voice. Elias's eyes widened, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.

“Mama!” he exclaimed, jumping down from the stool and running toward me. I scooped him up in my arms, holding him tightly against me.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” I scolded, though the relief in my voice softened the rebuke. “What were you thinking, coming here on your own?”

Elias squirmed in my arms. “I wanted to surprise you, Mama. I didn't know you wouldn't be here. I thought maybe I could learn some things from Master Vorgath, too.”

I loosened my grip on Elias, setting him down gently but keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Elias,” I sighed, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I appreciate that you wanted to surprise me, but you can't wander off like that. You scared me half to death.”

“I'm sorry, Mama,” he said, his lower lip quivering slightly. “I just... I wanted to learn about the forge and make things like you do.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut as his innocent wish from weeks ago came rushing back to me—I wished that we could have Papa’s forge working again, so we could be like we were before.

I knelt down, bringing myself to eye level with my son. “I'm so sorry. I should have included you more in what I've been doing here.”

His face lit up at my words. “Really? You mean I can come and learn, too?”

“Yes, but only when I’m with you. We'll learn together. And,” I added, glancing up at Vorgath, who had been watching our exchange, “as long as Master Vorgath doesn't mind.”

Vorgath’s deep voice broke the quiet. “The boy is welcome here always, as is his mother.”

I glanced up at him, his steady gaze meeting mine, and for a moment, my breath caught. His words weren’t just an invitation—they were a reassurance. Reassurance that my worries about Elias and myself fitting into his life weren’t as complicated as I’d feared. Would he ever want me, with all my baggage? I couldn’t know for certain, but his acceptance of us both, without hesitation, felt like a step in the right direction. The tightness in my chest softened, a spark of something I didn’t need to second-guess—for now.

Elias bounced on his toes, his earlier guilt forgotten in the face of this new excitement. “Can we start now, Mama? Please?”

I chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Well, I suppose we're already here. What do you say, Master Vorgath? Shall we give him his first lesson?”

Vorgath nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Indeed. Come, durgha . Let us begin with the basics.”

Time seemed to slip away as the forge became our classroom. Vorgath, with infinite patience, guided Elias through the fundamentals, showing him how to handle each tool with care and explaining its purpose. I marveled at how still my son was, his usual boundless energy reined in by sheer fascination.

“Now, remember,” Vorgath said, kneeling beside Elias, “we always respect the fire. It breathes life into our work, but if we're careless, it can take as well.”

Elias nodded solemnly, his wide eyes reflecting the glowing coals as Vorgath stoked the flames, sending sparks into the air like tiny stars.

“Mama, look!” Elias called out later, holding up a small piece of metal he'd been working on. It was misshapen and rough, but the pride in his voice was unmistakable. “I made a... well, I'm not sure what it is, but I made it!”

I laughed, ruffling his hair. “It's wonderful. Your very first creation.”

Vorgath nodded approvingly. “Well done, Elias.”

As dusk began to settle in and long shadows crept across the floor, I noticed Elias’s movements slow, his eyelids growing heavy.

“I think someone's had quite the adventure today,” I said softly to Vorgath.

Vorgath's expression softened as he looked at my son. “He has worked hard. A true apprentice's first day.”

As if on cue, Elias yawned widely, stumbling slightly. Vorgath reached out, steadying him with one large hand. “Perhaps it's time for rest, durgha .”

Elias mumbled a protest, but his body betrayed him. He shuffled over to a nearby bench and, within moments, was fast asleep. I sighed, bending to pick up his metal masterpiece, which had only gotten more misshapen through the lesson.

“I don't know how I'm going to get him home now,” I mused.

“I can carry him,” Vorgath offered.

I looked back at him, surprised. “It's a long walk,” I reminded him.

He nodded. “I am a strong orc.”

I stifled a laugh. “But are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “No trouble at all.”

“Right,” I smiled, feeling oddly relieved. “Thank you.”

With that, Vorgath effortlessly gathered Elias into his arms, cradling him as though he weighed nothing. The sight made something soft and warm coil in my chest. It was the tenderness of it, maybe. Despite all of his raw strength, Vorgath held my son carefully, like he was precious.

It was—well, it was something. Probably best not to think too hard about it.

The path ahead was dimly lit, and the trees loomed on either side, their branches casting intricate shadows in the fading light. The earthy scent of pine and damp soil filled my lungs as we walked, our footsteps muffled by the carpet of fallen leaves. In the distance, an owl hooted, its call echoing through the stillness of the forest. I shivered slightly, pulling my shawl tighter around my shoulders.

“Are you cold?” Vorgath asked softly, mindful of the sleeping child in his arms.

I glanced up at him. “A little,” I admitted. “But it's not far now.”

He nodded, then surprised me by shifting Elias to one arm and draping the other around my shoulders. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through me, and I found myself leaning into his side almost instinctively.

“Is this... acceptable?” he asked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice for a moment. “Yes,” I managed. “It is.”

We walked in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds our footsteps and Elias's soft breathing. As we neared the edge of the woods, the trees began to thin out, revealing glimpses of the town's twinkling lights in the distance.

“Vorgath,” I said softly, breaking the silence. “I wanted to thank you... for today. For looking after Elias when he snuck away. I hope he wasn't too much trouble.”

Vorgath's deep chuckle rumbled through the night air. “He was no trouble. The boy has a keen mind and eager hands. A natural smith in the making.”

“He takes after his father in that regard,” I said softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at my lips.

Vorgath was quiet for a moment, and I worried I'd made him uncomfortable by mentioning Kald. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “He takes after you as well. Your determination, your spirit—I see it in him.”

His words caught me off guard. “I... thank you,” I murmured, slightly flustered by the compliment.

I stole a glance at Vorgath's profile, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. The strong line of his jaw, the curve of his tusks, the gentle way he held Elias—all of it combined to create an image that stirred something deep within me. He fit so seamlessly into this moment, into our lives. Maybe more than I ever expected.

But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I remembered my earlier conversation with Thyri, and I was glad for the cover of darkness to hide my blush. It's not like I was some innocent maiden; I had been married, had a child for goodness' sake. But Kald had been my first and only, and I hadn't given much thought to being with anyone else since he passed.

And now, here I was, walking alongside an orc, his strong arm around my shoulders, and my mind was racing with thoughts that would make a sailor blush. I snuck another glance at Vorgath. He was so... large. His hands, his muscles—everything about him was massive and powerful. A shiver ran down my spine, and it wasn't from the cold.

If things were to... progress between us, how would that even work? Would he... fit? I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. Were there actually happy human-orc couples out there? And if so, how did they manage the, well, logistics?

I tried to shake off the thoughts, to focus on the path ahead. But my mind was a whirlwind, filled with images of Vorgath's hands on my body, his mouth on mine. I stumbled slightly, surprised by the vividness of my own imagination.

Vorgath steadied me, his grip tightening around my shoulders. “Alright?” he asked.

“Fine!” I squeaked, my voice embarrassingly high. “Just... tripped on a root.”

Thyri would be having a field day if she could hear my thoughts right now. I could almost hear her voice in my head, “Where there's a will, there's a way!”

I bit my lip, trying to stifle a nervous giggle, earning a curious look from Vorgath. I just shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. Instead, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, all the while very aware of the warm, strong arm around my shoulders.

A few minutes later, he released me to follow me up the narrow steps to the front door of my house. The moon had fully risen by now, casting a soft glow across the cobblestones beneath our feet and bathing the little cottage in muted blue light.

The door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, and we stepped into the familiar warmth of home. I led Vorgath up the narrow stairs to Elias’s small bedroom. When we reached the door, I moved aside, letting Vorgath enter first. He carefully entered, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head on the low beam.

Gently, Vorgath lowered Elias onto the bed, cradling his little body until it hit the pillow with a soft thump. Elias barely stirred, his face relaxed in the deep, heavy sleep of a child who’d played hard and learned much. Vorgath tugged the blanket up to Elias’s chin and then stood there for a moment, staring down at my son as if committing the scene to memory. A soft smile tugged at his lips—barely noticeable, but I caught it.

Then, without a word, Vorgath stepped back, straightening as he turned toward me. I caught his eye over the bed and gestured toward the door.

I followed him out, and once again, we found ourselves standing in the quiet warmth of the entryway, where we both paused uncertainly. Vorgath turned, looking back at me. A warmth sat behind his eyes, but other than that, his face remained unreadable. I licked my lips—nervous? Definitely. But there was something else. Something that made the room seem smaller, the space between us almost tangible in its weight.

He turned his gaze toward the door, a subtle shifting of his weight that suggested he meant to leave. “I should go.”

“Right,” I whispered, my voice sounding far too small for the moment.

Neither of us moved.

Yet, I could feel the pull—an invisible thread binding us, drawing me nearer, daring me to close the distance.

And then, before I could stop myself—before the rational, careful part of me could scream her usual protest—I stepped forward.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I pushed up on my toes, my lips pressing against his with a fierce, almost reckless urgency. The kiss was scorching—as if all the tension, the unspoken words, the stolen glances—had suddenly found their release. His lips were warm, surprisingly soft beneath his beard, and the taste of steel and smoke clung to his mouth, foreign but intoxicating. I hadn’t kissed anyone in so long, and this… this wasn’t like anything I’d known before.

His tusks brushed against my cheeks, strange yet thrilling, scraping ever-so-slightly against my skin. I heard a low rumble in his throat, a sound that seemed to ripple through me, igniting something primal and dangerous. His hands—those enormous hands that had once seemed so intimidating—found my waist, pulling me closer, and the rest of the world dropped away.

He held me like I was something precious. Like I was desired.

And Seven save me, it felt like nothing else mattered in that moment. Like I was exactly where I needed to be, in the consuming heat of him .

My hands tangled in the fabric of his tunic, the strength of his chest solid beneath my fingers, the rough texture of his muscles hard and unyielding under the press of my palm. I could barely reach his collarbone, but it didn’t matter. I rose onto my toes more, needing to bury myself in the kiss, to lose myself in the way the world seemed to tilt and spin around us.

Had I ever felt like this? With Kald, it had been simple and soft, familiar. But this? The rawness of it soared through my veins, making me feel out of control in the very best of ways.

His size overwhelmed everything—his muscles, his presence, the sheer strength of his arms. Every inch of him dwarfed me, and the warmth that radiated from his body seeped into me, pulling me further into the moment, into him . My fingers clawed for purchase, sliding up the brawny slope of his arm until they hooked onto the tight muscles of his shoulder. It had the texture of leather, hard and unyielding, yet under it all, I could sense the latent gentleness lurking just below the surface.

His kiss grew fiercer, matching the intensity running wild between us. A growl rumbled low in his throat, vibrating through my entire body as his hands tightened. I inched closer, the feel of his large form pressing all around me. I couldn’t think. I could only feel . Every stroke of his lips against mine, every squeeze of his hands, every blazing moment seemed to unravel something knotted deep inside me.

I wanted more.

Needed more.

But with every second that passed, reality came creeping in.

What am I doing? This is too fast. Elias is in the next room... The thoughts clawed to the surface, piercing the haze of desire. Fear and doubt slammed back into place like a tidal wave. What about my life? What about our careful, balanced existence? Elias. The forge. What would happen if I let this continue? We’d get used to having him around—complacent, comfortable—and then... what would happen if I lost him, too?

Suddenly, the intoxicating heat became too much.

Gasping for air, I ripped my lips from his, stumbling back a few steps as I pressed a hand to my mouth. My lungs burned, struggling to catch up with the sudden rush of oxygen that filled the space where our kiss had been.

“What—?” Vorgath’s eyes, wide and wild, stared at me, and I saw the concern there—the softened edges of his otherwise stoic features, warring between want and confusion.

“I—I can’t,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. My hands fumbled against my own skin, arms folding protectively around myself.

Vorgath’s brow furrowed, uncertainty flickering in his gaze. He was still standing where I’d left him, his arms slowly dropping back to his sides. “Soraya,” he began, his voice tinged with a tenderness I wasn’t sure I deserved in that moment. “If I—”

“It’s not you,” I interrupted in a frantic rush. “It’s just… it’s everything. It’s Elias. It’s—” I swallowed hard, the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. “My life is complicated. You deserve something… easier.”

Vorgath’s lips pressed into a thin line, his face an unreadable mask again. But he didn’t argue. He didn’t push.

We stood in the heavy silence of my tiny living room for a long moment, the weight of what had just happened looming between us. My heart still raced, my body still humming with the remnants of the kiss, but my mind… my mind was warning me—no, shouting at me.

I had a son to think about. I had lived through the pain of loss, and the thought of opening my heart—to him , to anyone—terrified me in ways I couldn’t quite put into words. I couldn’t take that step. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“I'll go,” Vorgath said at last, his voice softer and more measured.

I nodded, my throat too tight to say anything. He moved toward the door, his steps slow and deliberate, perhaps giving me the chance to call him back—but I didn’t. I stood frozen, watching him reach for the doorknob.

He turned just slightly, enough for me to catch the side of his face framed by the flickering lamplight. “Soraya…,” he started, voice low and gruff, as if fighting with the words. “I don’t expect easy.” His hand tightened on the knob, muscles flexing beneath his worn tunic. “And I am not afraid.”

With that, he pulled the door open. The cool night air rushed in, mingling with the lingering heat that clung to my skin—the remnants of our kiss, of him. And then, without another word, he stepped outside, disappearing into the shadowed street beyond.

The door shut with a soft thud that echoed in the empty silence. I exhaled shakily, my knees finally giving way as I sank onto the nearest chair. My fingertips brushed my lips, still tingling. My gaze drifted toward the stairs. At the top, behind Elias’s door, my son slept. Safe. Innocent. Uncomplicated.

And then there was me… standing on the precipice, almost ready to jump, to bring it all crumbling down.

Vorgath’s final words hung between the walls, lingering like a challenge. I am not afraid.

But I was terrified. Terrified of what this meant. Of what I could lose. Of what I already wanted.

I stared at the door as though it might offer me some kind of solace—but it didn’t. The only thing on the other side was the empty street and the space he had left there, lingering like a shadow.