Page 27

He reaches for me, large hands clamping on my shoulders. “You can’t believe that,” he growls, eyes dark. “I refuse to.”

A half-sob escapes me. “The clan sees me as a curse. Another young life stolen. If I go through with this pilgrimage, and the War God condemns me…” I trail off, shuddering. “I don’t want to drag you into a revolt, Ghorzag. They’ll tear you apart for defending me.”

His grip tightens, tusks bared. “Stop. I’ll handle my clan. The War God’s temple will prove your innocence.”

A bitter laugh catches in my throat, tears burning hot. “How can you be so sure?”

For a heartbeat, his resolve wavers, the storm in his eyes betraying uncertainty. Then he steadies himself, releasing me. “We have no other choice,” he says quietly. “Don’t break now, Lirienne. We leave at dawn, and once the War God sees the truth, we’ll quell this madness.”

I bow my head, tears slipping unheeded down my cheeks. “And if the War God remains silent?”

He says nothing, and that silence is answer enough. All is lost if we can’t prove sabotage. Even Ghorzag’s fierce loyalty might not withstand the clan’s fury forever.

After Ghorzag leaves—summoned by Karzug to inspect Rakan’s body for any clue of foul play—I wander the courtyard in a daze. The flaming torches stab the darkness like angry tongues, revealing orc warriors scowling in every corner. No matter which way I turn, someone glares at me.

Two older orcs, huddled beside a brazier, stop talking the moment I come into view. One spits on the ground near my feet, eyes hard. I clench my fists, hurrying past. A hush accompanies my steps, as though I carry a plague no one wishes to catch.

Eventually, I find myself near the orchard’s edge, where the battered fruit trees stand silhouetted against a moonlit sky.

This place has once offered a sense of calm.

Now, the orchard bears scars from sabotage: half-flooded rows, broken fences, stunted saplings.

A reflection of how my presence has battered the clan’s faith.

I slump against a half-toppled fence post, burying my face in my hands.

My thoughts turn to Rakan—an innocent youth, life snuffed out.

Whether sabotage or something worse, it lends credence to the clan’s darkest fears.

A shudder wracks me. Maybe leaving is the only way to spare them further tragedy.

Footsteps crunch on the orchard path behind me. I stiffen, turning to see Nagra, Ragzuk’s apprentice, approaching hesitantly. Relief and dread mingle; she’s one of the few orcs who have shown me kindness, yet I can’t bear more bad news.

She comes closer, the torch in her hand illuminating her worried expression. “Lirienne,” she says softly, voice trembling with concern. “I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”

Tears brim again. “They want me gone. They say Rakan’s death is the final sign. If Ghorzag stands by me, the clan might tear itself apart.”

Nagra’s eyes glisten. “Many are indeed calling for your blood. But some of us—Ragzuk, me, a few others—believe in you. We think sabotage is afoot.” She sets her torch aside, reaching out to gently grip my arm.

“Stay strong. Ghorzag’s leading you to the shrine where He waits.

That might be your only chance to prove your innocence. ”

A sob rises in my throat. “What if the War God remains silent? Or if the saboteur strikes again on the journey?”

She presses her lips together, sadness evident. “Then… the clan may force Ghorzag’s hand. I hate to say it, but you know how orcs can be. Fear drives us to extremes.”

My tears finally escape, sliding hot down my cheeks. “I don’t want more orcs dying because of me, Nagra.”

She pulls me into a clumsy hug, the gesture so unexpectedly comforting that a fresh wave of grief pours out. “Shhh,” she murmurs, stroking my hair. “We’ll find the truth. Don’t give up yet. Ghorzag—he cares for you, more than you know.”

A pang of guilt twists through me. Yes, he does… and I might be dooming him.

With gentle pressure, she releases me, wiping my tears with the corner of her sleeve. “We should get you inside. Dawn comes soon, and you need rest before the journey.”

I nod, letting her guide me away from the broken orchard. My limbs feel leaden, every step a monumental effort. All is lost , the words echo in my head. How can a pilgrimage to some distant temple possibly fix this avalanche of hate?

Returning to my tent, I find it bleakly empty. The small lantern I left flickering casts dancing shadows on the canvas walls, each shape reminding me of the swirling chaos outside. I sink onto my bedroll, heart pounding with the question: Should I run?

If I flee tonight, I can vanish into the wilderness.

Perhaps the clan will calm, blame me from afar, but at least they’ll stop demanding Ghorzag fight to protect me.

My presence wouldn’t spark further sabotage.

Or so I tell myself—though I suspect whoever orchestrated these “omens” would continue to exploit the clan’s fear, with or without me.

Still, the thought of leaving stabs my chest with longing and dread. Leaving means giving up on everything: on forging peace, on trusting Ghorzag, on believing we could change this clan’s future. But staying means risking more orc lives, potentially condemning Ghorzag to a civil war.

I bow my head, tears dripping onto the bedroll. My father’s old crest, a threadbare cloth I keep in my satchel, peeks out. I came here to prevent bloodshed , I remind myself, recalling the vow I made when I left my home. Now, orcs are dying anyway. My noble intentions feel like a cruel joke.

A soft knock on the tent post jars me from my misery. I freeze, wiping my face. “Who is it?”

The tent flap shifts, revealing Ghorzag’s broad form. He steps inside cautiously, his imposing height dwarfing the cramped space. His expression is guarded, the lines of his face cast into sharp relief by the lantern glow.

We regard each other in silence. My eyes burn from tears, and I sense the turmoil roiling under his stoic facade.

Finally, he speaks, voice hushed. “I check Rakan’s body. The foam at his mouth suggests something akin to the poison used on the livestock.” His fists clench. “It’s sabotage, Lirienne. Someone is orchestrating these deaths, feeding the clan’s hysteria.”

I let out a shuddering breath. “That means it’s not divine retribution,” I say, half-relieved, half-crushed by the knowledge that it won’t change the clan’s mind.

He nods grimly. “But the clan won’t believe that unless we catch the saboteur in the act. They’re whipped into a frenzy, demanding immediate answers.” His gaze flicks to me, softening momentarily. “I won’t let them harm you.”

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, tears threatening again. “How can you stop them when so many believe I’m behind it all? Gaurbod is pushing them to demand my blood. I heard him plotting with some warriors. They’re determined to remove me from the clan by any means necessary.”

Ghorzag’s jaw tightens. “I know. But tomorrow, we leave. Once we reach the War God’s temple, there’ll be no turning back. I’ll need you to stand with me before the priests. We’ll prove this sabotage is mortal, not divine.”

I stare at him, despair welling. “And if the saboteur attacks us on the road, or the War God doesn’t speak, or—or—” My voice cracks, the weight of it all too much. “I don’t want to cause more deaths, Ghorzag. I’m just a human trying to protect my village and your clan. And I keep failing.”

Silence stretches. His eyes dart over my tear-streaked face, and something in his expression breaks.

He moves closer, kneeling beside me on the bedroll.

The tent’s fabric rustles, the lantern flickering.

He’s so close , I think, recalling the fierce intimacy we’ve shared.

Now that closeness feels tainted by tragedy.

He lifts a hand, gently cupping my cheek. “You’re not failing,” he murmurs, voice gruff yet tender. “This is bigger than either of us. Sabotage, fear, clan tradition… it’s a war on many fronts. But I’ll stand between you and that war. I promise.”

I exhale, leaning into his touch. “You said that before. But—what if your clan revolts?”

His hand trembles. “Then I’ll face them. I’m their chieftain; it’s my responsibility to see reason prevails.” His gaze searches mine, a storm of emotion swirling. “Lirienne… I know it seems hopeless. But I won’t give up.”

For a heartbeat, I consider telling him about my fleeting thoughts of running. The words catch in my throat. He’d be furious, I realize. He’d see it as a betrayal or a sign of no faith in his vow. And yet, I can’t banish the lingering notion that flight might spare him more bloodshed.

His thumb brushes away a tear on my cheek. That simple gesture nearly undoes me. My chest aches with a desperate mix of gratitude and heartbreak. Why does his devotion feel so heavy now? Because it means he might die defending me if the clan turns violent.

I swallow hard. “I—thank you.” My voice is a shaky whisper. “For… believing in me.”

He presses his forehead to mine, eyes drifting shut. The warmth of his breath fans across my skin. We stay like that, an island of quiet amid the swirling chaos, hearts pounding in shared grief and uncertain hope. I cling to him as if he’s the last stable point in a collapsing world.

Eventually, he pulls back, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “Rest,” he says softly, rising to his feet. “We depart at dawn.”

I nod, tears gathering again. “All right.”

Just before stepping out, he pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “Lirienne… Rakan’s death isn’t your fault. Don’t let them make you believe otherwise.”

I open my mouth, but no words come. He slips out into the night, leaving me alone with my turmoil. Though his parting reassurance lights a small spark of comfort, the shadow of despair remains. I can’t escape the clan’s fury or the sabotage that clings to my footsteps.

I don’t sleep. Instead, I lie curled on my bedroll, staring at the wavering lantern flame, the darkness beyond. The fortress’s night sounds carry faintly—distant footsteps, hushed murmurs, the occasional clang of a weapon shifting in some watchful orc’s hands.

Rakan’s lifeless face haunts me. No matter how many times I close my eyes, I see the foam at his lips, hear the crowd’s accusations. This will only intensify tomorrow. Even if I survive the pilgrimage, the clan’s trauma won’t vanish overnight.

Sometime near the darkest hour before dawn, an odd calm settles over me, the hush of utter despair.

Maybe I should leave. Slip away while everyone’s busy preparing.

My heart throbs painfully at the thought of abandoning Ghorzag.

But if my departure means the clan might focus on finding the real saboteur, would that not save them from further tragedy?

Tears burn my eyes anew. But if I run, Gaurbod wins. The saboteur still lurks. Ghorzag might be blamed for letting me escape. Guilt wars with self-preservation. He vowed to protect me, but can I really let him risk everything?

I press my face into the bedroll, stifling a sob. All is lost. The words echo through my mind like a dirge, final and merciless. Yet dawn will come regardless, and with it, the forced march toward the War God’s temple. Perhaps fate will decide.

I lie awake, hollow-eyed. No matter how bleak the night has felt, it’s time to face the clan’s wrath once more. My head pounds from exhaustion, but I push to my feet, preparing for a pilgrimage that might seal my fate.