Page 27 of Larz

She took a step back, hurt flickering across her face before it hardened into resolve. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Handle it then.”

Watching her walk away tore at me more than any blade could have done. But this was for the best—for her safety.

The hours that followed were restless and long. As dawn’s first light crept across the sky, I found myself perched high on a ridge overlooking both Zorvian and human territories—a guardian caught between two worlds.

A part of me longed to join Threx and his warriors in their blind crusade for purity—a call to protect our way of life from outside influence. Yet another part recoiled at the thought of striking down those who sought nothing but refuge and survival.

As the sun broke free from its nightly chains and bathed the world below in hues of gold and crimson, so too did my resolve solidify.

With a deep breath that felt like it carried the weight of both our worlds, I descended from my perch with purpose etched into every step.

Threx stood among our warriors as they prepared their explosives in silence—a grim ritual before an even grimmer deed.

“You’ve returned,” Threx observed without turning to face me as I approached.

“I have,” I confirmed, standing firm despite the tremors of conflict within me.

“And?” he prompted with an expectant arch of his brow.

“And I stand before you as a Zorvian,” I began carefully, “loyal to our people and our ways.”

A murmur rippled through the group as they awaited my next words.

“But also as one who has seen what peace may bring,” I continued, locking eyes with Threx. “These humans are not our enemies by choice or by nature.”

Threx scoffed, his expression hardening like forged steel. “Your words grow soft, Larz.”

“They speak only the truth,” I countered with equal force. “An attack will bring nothing but more bloodshed—on both sides.”

Sarn stepped forward from among them, his scars deepening with his scowl. “So you would have us stand idle while they grow stronger? While they threaten our very existence?”

“No,” I said evenly. “I would have us teach them—guide them so that their strength becomes ours as well.”

Threx considered this for a moment before shaking his head dismissively. “Naïve hopes do not protect a people.”

“And blind aggression does not honor them,” I shot back.

Silence fell over us once more—a standoff between ideals and instincts honed over generations.

Threx turned away then and addressed his followers with unwavering conviction. “We move forward as planned.” His words sliced through any lingering doubt like a blade through flesh.

And there it was—the moment that would define me not just as a warrior but as a being capable of shaping destiny itself.

Threx's warriors gathered their deadly harvest and started their march towards their destiny or doom—whichever awaited them. I knew what had to be done.

My loyalty to Zorvian traditions ran deep like roots through ancient stone; yet my loyalty to what was right—a concept broader than tradition or even species—ran deeper still.

I watched them depart with hearts aflame for battle—brothers and sisters bound by blood and belief—and knew that stopping them was tantamount to betrayal in their eyes.

Yet betray them. I must if it meant preventing a needless massacre—a conflict that would shatter any hope of unity between our peoples; between Hailee and myself.

The path ahead was fraught with danger and drenched in uncertainty—but it was clear.

And so I turned away from Threx’s retreating form and set off toward an uncertain horizon where duty clashed with desire—and where destiny awaited those brave enough to shape it with their own hands.

Chapter

Twelve

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