Page 31

“Who’s there?” I call softly, dagger tight in my grip. No answer. Only the low whistle of wind. I edge forward, determined to see if an orc or something else lurks behind the rock.

Laughter returns, closer, eerie. My heart skips. Dark elf illusions, or a traitor conjuring fear. My knees threaten to buckle. Breathe.

I inch around the boulder, and the world blinks out. A nauseating vertigo slams me. I stand in a corridor of swirling mist, the reek of sulfur in my nostrils. Phantom shapes skid at the edges of sight—tall, red-eyed forms. Terror chokes me.

An icy voice whispers, “You don’t belong here, human.”

It’s not real , I tell myself, chest tight. But the realism is overwhelming. The shapes lunge, and I scream, slashing the dagger in futile arcs. Then the corridor melts away in a surge of color.

Abruptly, I collapse to my knees on rocky ground, panting, sweat cold on my brow. No corridor, no monsters—just open night air. My dagger clatters from my hand.

Blinking in shock, I see a faint figure retreating behind a distant rock. The footsteps are real enough, gravel crunching. That must be the one controlling illusions. My pulse races. A saboteur with dark elf ties—possibly an orc or an outsider trailing us.

“Stop!” I shout, scrambling upright. But the figure vanishes. My knees wobble with leftover terror. I realize I can’t chase them alone. I must warn Ghorzag.

I stagger back to camp, chest heaving. The revelation pounds in my mind: illusions this potent come from dark elf magic or a specialized artifact.

And those footprints near our supplies—someone is confirming or tampering with our route.

They want to sabotage Ghorzag, discredit him with more “omens.” If illusions worsen, the clan might blame me.

Hot anger burns in my veins. We can’t let them win. Ghorzag is risking everything to defend me, and I won’t let a traitor orchestrate more tragedy.

Reaching camp, I collapse into a cluster of alarmed orcs. Ghorzag rushes to me, eyes flashing. “Lirienne!”

I nearly fall into him, breath ragged. “There’s—someone. A traitor. I followed tracks—illusions ambushed me.” My words pour out. “They fled.”

Ghorzag’s gaze darkens. Karzug, Harzug, and others gather, hearing the commotion. “Show me,” Ghorzag commands, voice tight.

“I lost them,” I admit, voice trembling with fury at my helplessness. “But it’s real. They used illusions to confuse me. They’re creating these signs to discredit you. Possibly dark elves.”

A tense hush. Orc warriors exchange grave looks. The priests, drawn by the noise, cluster near the firelight, bone charms rattling. They sense illusions.

Ghorzag’s expression is thunderous. “So the sabotage continues, even on this pilgrimage.” He turns to Karzug. “Double the watch until dawn. No one goes alone.”

Harzug growls, “We should hunt that traitor now.”

“Yes, but we’re in unknown territory,” Ghorzag replies. “Sending half our force stumbling after illusions in the dark is too risky.”

Karzug nods, frustration etched on his face. “We’ll stay vigilant. At first light, we’ll search again.”

My adrenaline still roars, hands shaking. Ghorzag’s gaze softens when he looks at me. “Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, lungs still catching up. “Just—terrified. The illusions felt so real.”

He covers my hand with his, anchoring me. That gesture reminds me of his vow—he won’t let them take me. Yet the danger has never been clearer.

The next hour is chaotic—patrols re-formed, priests chanting prayers, Ghorzag urging calm.

But I see the orcs’ eyes brimming with suspicion.

They fear illusions are a sign of my curse.

I remain by the fire, arms wrapped around myself, reliving that hallucinatory corridor.

If illusions strike the entire group, we may lose many to panic.

Eventually, Ghorzag approaches, face grim. “We leave at dawn. We can’t wait here. The temple is still days away, but we have to move on or risk more attacks.”

My throat is dry. “You think they’ll strike again?”

His jaw tenses. “Yes. They want to break us, and me, by stoking fear of you.” He glances at the priests chanting. “They still think the War God might be testing us. More illusions only fuels that belief.”

A cold knot twists in my gut. “Then we keep going. If we turn back, they win. The clan tears itself apart.”

He nods, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “You’re braver than half my warriors, Lirienne.”

Heat warms my cheeks. “I—I just don’t want more death.”

He squeezes my shoulder gently, then turns to organize the watch. Even in crisis, he tries to hold the clan together. My heart aches for him—torn between duty and sabotage, determined not to abandon me.

Night wears on without real sleep. Every rustle sets nerves alight. The priests chant softly, but tension remains. I drift in and out of uneasy dozing, nightmares of illusions snapping me awake.

At last, the sky lightens to dusky gray—dawn. Ghorzag rouses the camp with quiet urgency. We have miles to go, illusions or not.

Breaking camp, I notice some orcs look at me with wary pity—they see I’m as rattled by illusions as they are. Others scowl, certain I’m behind it all. Another wedge driven deeper.

“Everyone ready?” Ghorzag calls, voice echoing among the rocky slopes. A ragged chorus of agreement.

Karzug takes point again, guiding us into increasingly harsh terrain. I stay near Ghorzag, scanning for suspicious movements. My nerves remain raw, hyper-vigilant after last night. We must be nearing a true turning point. The War God’s temple is still far, but sabotage escalates daily.

One more push , I think, clinging to Ghorzag’s steadfast presence. We refuse to back down now.

As the sun rises fully, bathing the peaks in a radiant glow, I can’t help a spark of hope.

Maybe illusions can be beaten, maybe we’ll unmask the saboteur.

But that lurking threat shadows our every step.

In the coming days, the real fight isn’t just about the War God’s favor—it’s about whether Ghorzag’s clan can survive a betrayal from within.

We march deeper into the rugged passes, each step a test of endurance. The priests mutter under their breath, eyes flicking at every gust of wind. Orc warriors clutch weapons, scanning crags. Ghorzag sets a relentless pace, posture firm despite the gloom around us.

I inhale the cold mountain air, steeling myself. I won’t let illusions or sabotage stop me. If I die, it will be for this chance that orcs and humans might stand together one day. And if I live—if we expose the traitor and earn the War God’s blessing—then all this suffering might prove worthwhile.

Lost in thought, I nearly trip on a loose stone.

Ghorzag catches my elbow, steadying me, worry flickering in his eyes.

He says nothing, just nods for me to go on.

My pulse flutters at the memory of that heated night we shared—fierce desire overshadowed by unrelenting danger.

He believes in me, and I can’t let him down now.

Somewhere above, a saboteur might watch us, waiting to unleash illusions at our weakest. Maybe they intend to lure priests into blaming me further, or isolate Ghorzag. But I vow to stay alert, note every odd shift. They won’t vanish so easily next time.

With the day brightening, the caravan presses on, winding higher. Break Into Three , I recall ironically, as though our fate enters a final act. The War God’s temple lies ahead, beyond these perilous passes. Illusions, traps, sabotage—none of it dissuades us. We step into the final crucible.

I forge my heart into resolve: no more yielding to fear.

If sabotage aims to discredit Ghorzag, we’ll counter it.

I’m not some captive bride or cursed omen—I’m Lirienne Marshfield, a woman who crossed worlds for peace.

If that quest requires braving illusions, betrayal, and even the War God’s judgment, so be it.