Page 37

In the flickering firelight, the entire temple trembles.

Chunks of stone rain from above, though no large slabs fall to crush us.

The roar of flames escalates until I can hardly hear my own ragged breathing.

All around, orcs drop to their knees—some in reverence, others in terror.

Even Gaurbod stares open-mouthed, backing away as though scalded.

“The War God sees,” Drahn the priest exclaims, voice quivering with awe. “He weighs our hearts!”

A rumble rolls through the chamber like distant thunder, reverberating in my bones. I stand, unarmed, arms at my sides, uncertain if this divine force will smite me or spare me. My gaze flicks to Lirienne, who clings to my arm, her trembling shifting into something like hope.

Suddenly, a pillar of flame erupts from the dais’s center, a slender spire that reaches high into the temple’s vaulted ceiling, swirling with unnatural brilliance. My gut clenches. Is this the War God’s fury or his blessing?

A radiant warmth floods me, not painful but overwhelming, as the War God’s power brushes my very soul. I hear Lirienne exhale in a half-choked sob, pressing closer. All around, orcs shield their eyes from the blaze.

Then, as quickly as it came, the pillar of flame recedes, leaving behind a swirl of embers that drift in the air. The runes on the dais simmer down to a soft glow. A hush claims the temple, the crackling of residual flames echoing in corners.

I release a shuddering breath. My limbs shake from the raw energy that just coursed through the floor. The War God… did he judge us?

Priests scramble, dropping their staffs in stunned reverence. One elder priest stares at me and Lirienne, eyes filled with tears. “The War God… acknowledges your union. He did not strike her dead. He saved you both from the spear.”

A murmur of disbelief ripples through the crowd. Some orcs still cower, half-expecting another quake. Others tentatively rise, exchanging astonished glances. Gaurbod remains crouched near the dais’s edge, trembling, the spear lost at his feet. The expression on his face is one of raw terror.

“You see?” I bellow, voice shaking but resolute. “The War God has decided. This woman is not our curse!”

A wave of relief crashes over me as I turn, grasping Lirienne’s hands. She stares up at me, tears flowing freely. I press my brow to hers, ignoring the gawking orcs, ignoring Gaurbod’s trembling. My chest feels light and heavy all at once—a swirl of gratitude, shock, and triumph.

“You… you did it,” she whispers, voice thick.

“We did,” I correct, struggling to keep tears from my own eyes. The raw hum of divine power still resonates in my bones, the War God’s acceptance reverberating through the temple.

In the hush that follows, Karzug and a few loyal warriors advance, surrounding Gaurbod’s ragged group. Harzug pins one of Gaurbod’s men to the ground, growling demands for surrender. The traitor orcs, their bravado shattered by the War God’s dramatic intervention, stare at the dais in fear.

Gaurbod himself crouches, gaze flicking wildly between me and the dais’s smoldering runes. His chest heaves. “This… can’t be,” he rasps, voice hollow.

Karzug steps forward, weapon raised. “You orchestrated sabotage, Gaurbod. Killed our youth, fouled our cistern. You’ve condemned yourself.”

The orcs who once stood behind Gaurbod now hesitate, some dropping their weapons. They realize the War God has undone the sabotage’s purpose—clearly, the deity has not condemned Lirienne, but saved her.

“You played on the clan’s fears,” I say harshly, stepping closer to Gaurbod. My side aches from the earlier wound, but I hold my posture firm, Lirienne at my back. “You dared to stage omens, cost lives, just to seize power.”

He swallows, eyes darting in search of an escape. “I… I did what was necessary. The clan needed a pure bloodline, no human bride. But… the War God…” He trails off, voice quavering in disbelief.

“He does not stand with murderers,” I spit. “You can spew your lies, but the War God’s temple just intervened. And if that isn’t enough proof, we have your own confession.”

An anguished roar tears from Gaurbod’s throat. He lunges, not at me but at the dais’s center, as if aiming to disrupt the runes. Karzug intercepts, bashing the hilt of his sword against Gaurbod’s head. The blow sends my cousin sprawling, unconscious or nearly so.

The chamber falls silent again, except for the heavy breathing of orcs and the soft hiss of dying flames. My heart pounds. Gaurbod is defeated, the War God’s verdict is clear. Is this truly the end of the clan’s turmoil?

One by one, orcs sink to their knees or bow heads, grappling with the magnitude of what they’ve just witnessed. Drahn the priest approaches the dais, trembling with reverence. “Chieftain Ghorzag,” he says hoarsely, “the War God has spared you both. It seems… he accepts her.”

A tension I hadn’t realized was choking me finally eases. I take a shaky breath, turning to Lirienne. She gazes at me with shining eyes, tears welling. Slowly, I gather her into my arms, ignoring the watchful stares. Let them see that the War God himself had no objection.

“Is it over?” she whispers, voice so faint only I can hear.

I press my cheek to her hair, allowing myself a moment’s solace. “I hope so,” I manage. “We still have to lead the clan through the aftermath, but… yes, we’ve survived the War God’s judgment.”

Karzug approaches, saluting. “Chieftain, what do you wish to do with Gaurbod and his men?”

My gaze flicks to my cousin’s prone form, pity and anger mingling in my gut. He betrayed us for power, yet the War God gave him no favor. “Bind him,” I order quietly. “And those who willingly aided his sabotage. We’ll see them judged by clan law.”

Several warriors hurry to comply, cuffing Gaurbod’s wrists with iron manacles. The priests hover, uncertain if the War God demands further blood. But the runes on the floor have dimmed to a soft glow, as though the temple is at peace now that the sacrifice has been averted.

I survey the temple dais. Orcs part in a wide circle around us, letting Lirienne and me remain at the center—where the War God’s verdict literally shook the stone. A hush falls, broken only by the crackle of residual flames.

“Hear me,” I declare, voice echoing in the grand chamber. “The War God has answered. He did not strike down my bride. He saved her. She is not cursed!”

A ripple of agreement spreads through the onlookers. Some bow their heads in relief; others stand blinking in awe. Gaurbod’s men, or those who had been swayed by him, look stricken, as if the foundation of their beliefs has crumbled.

Drahn the priest approaches the dais, staff scraping the stone. “Chieftain,” he says, voice subdued, “forgive us. We were blind to the sabotage, quick to blame outside forces.” His regret seems genuine, mirrored in the eyes of the other priests.

I incline my head, the anger in me slowly fading to weary acceptance. “You were swayed by cunning illusions and fear. The War God has revealed the truth. May we move forward from here.”

Lirienne’s trembling subsides somewhat, though her grip on my arm remains tight. She gazes at me with a mixture of relief and raw gratitude. She knows how close we came to losing everything.

I turn to her, heart full. The clan rings us, silent. “I meant what I said,” I murmur, quiet enough that only she can hear. “If the War God demanded blood, I would have given mine freely rather than see you harmed.”

Her eyes shine with tears. “Thank the gods… it didn’t come to that.”

We press our foreheads together in a brief, tender gesture. My chest burns with affection for this human woman who has risked so much to stand among orcs. If not for the War God’s sign, she might have died by Gaurbod’s spear. The memory makes me shudder.

As if sensing our emotions, the dais’s runes flicker one last time, a gentle glow rippling under our feet. A soft tremor shakes the floor—a final acknowledgment, perhaps. It feels like the War God’s blessing, intangible yet undeniable. The orcs watch in reverent silence.

Even Ragzuk, the old shaman’s apprentice, dares a small smile. “The War God’s acceptance,” he murmurs, eyes brimming. “No further sign needed.”

No one argues. The entire clan—or what is left of our traveling party—has witnessed the War God’s direct intervention. The illusions, sabotage, Gaurbod’s manipulations: all lie exposed.

Slowly, I help Lirienne down from the dais.

Orcs step aside, bowing their heads in respect.

We make our way across the temple floor, Karzug and the loyal warriors trailing behind, Gaurbod’s men bound and subdued.

A swirl of relief, exhaustion, and triumph courses through me.

We still must rebuild the clan’s trust, but for now, Lirienne is safe.

“Chieftain,” Karzug says, voice carrying a note of weary joy. “It’s over.”

I meet his gaze, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “The War God has given us a chance.”

At my side, Lirienne’s shoulders relax, a tearful smile hinting on her lips.

She glances at me, eyes shining with gratitude.

In that unspoken moment, we both know how precarious our journey has been— how close she came to death.

The War God’s acceptance feels like a new dawn, a chance to carve a future for orcs and humans alike.

“We’ll leave the temple soon,” I announce, voice echoing in the ancient hall. “Let the clan see Gaurbod tried to manipulate us all. And let them know the War God saved Lirienne’s life, not once but twice.”

A rumble of agreement ripples through the orcs. Several kneel in renewed reverence to the War God, while others exchange nods. The tension that threatened to tear us apart for so long finally begins to unwind, replaced by a cautious hope.

Before we depart, Karzug and Harzug drag Gaurbod—still half-dazed—onto the dais. They kneel him at the center, flanked by loyal warriors. Blood trickles from a cut on his temple, and he glares at me with desperate rage.

“I should kill you,” I say softly, stepping closer. My knuckles tighten on the handle of my ax, though the adrenaline of the fight is draining. “But the clan will decide your fate, cousin. You shall face a tribunal—not for the War God, but for your sabotage and murder.”

Gaurbod bares his tusks, then spits a wad of blood at my feet. “The War God is blind. We should never have let a human slip among us.” His voice is raw, bitterness and fear swirling.

I shake my head, pity touching me despite my anger. “It’s over, Gaurbod. The War God has announced differently.”

He lets out a choked snarl, but lacks the strength to fight further. Harzug and Gurtha yank him upright, binding his arms behind his back with thick ropes. A hush cloaks the dais as every orc present recognizes the final fall of Gaurbod’s coup.

The trek back across the temple floor carries an unexpected solemnity.

Priests hurry to gather any relics they brought, whispering exultations for the War God’s display of power.

Orc warriors retrieve fallen weapons, aid their injured.

Lirienne and I lead them, forging a path through columns carved with the War God’s likeness.

I feel the weight of ancient eyes upon us, as if the temple’s silent watchers acknowledge our triumph.

At the grand entrance, we pause, turning for one last look.

Torches along the walls flicker, revealing runes that still glow faintly in the aftermath of the War God’s manifestation.

My father once told me that in times of great crisis, the War God might intervene.

Perhaps this was that crisis, I think, relief warring with a lingering sense of awe.

Lirienne squeezes my hand. “Thank you,” she breathes, voice almost lost in the echoing chamber. “You risked?—”

I silence her with a gentle press of my brow to hers. “I’d do it a thousand times,” I murmur, letting the raw sincerity bleed through. She is no curse. She’s my future.

We step out onto the windswept plateau, the sky overhead clearing from stormy clouds to reveal beams of sunlight piercing through.

The crisp air tastes like promise. Behind us, orcs follow, carrying Gaurbod bound in chains, the priests trailing with hushed reverence.

Their footsteps feel lighter, as though they’ve shed a great burden.

Karzug takes a deep breath, scanning the horizon. “The clan must hear of what happened,” he says. “They must know the War God delivered a verdict.”

I nod, shifting my gaze to Lirienne. She gazes back, her expression soft with relief and something akin to joy. The corners of my mouth curve upward in a small, weary smile. “We’ll return home and rebuild. Let them see we are united.”

Some of the orcs nearest us murmur agreement.

A sense of unity, tenuous but genuine, blossoms in the crisp mountain air.

Lirienne and I stand side by side, battered but unbroken—living proof that sabotage, illusions, or the clan’s deepest fears cannot sever the bond we’ve forged.

And now, the War God has shown acceptance of our union in a surge of divine flame.

I tighten my grip on Lirienne’s hand, heart set on guiding my clan—our clan—toward a horizon where orcs and humans might find common ground. The War God has given his sign. Now, it is up to us to prove we deserve it.