Page 21 of Veil of Dreams

"Let me go!" I cry out, my voice hoarse from screaming. "Please, let me go!"

But they just laugh, their maniacal cackles echoing through the room. They're enjoying this, enjoying the fact that they have me at their mercy.

Their touch is revolting, like a slimy creature slithering up my leg. I try to shove their hand away, but it's a futile attempt. They're far too strong, too powerful for a human like me.

Despair washes over me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of their cackling laughter and the repulsive feeling of their hands roaming my body. I cling to the memory of Gorthak, the way he looked at me with fierce protectiveness in my dreams. He wouldn't let this happen. He'd save me.

"We've decided to… sample the goods," one of the elves says, leering at me with a twisted grin.

"Indeed," another chimes in. "It's crucial to ensure the quality of the merchandise for such a distinguished client. You understand."

Anger surges through me, and I recoil, spitting in the nearest elf's face. His response is swift and brutal, a stinging slap thatsends me sprawling to the ground. A cry of pain escapes my lips, and I can't hold back the tears that spill over.

The dark elves pounce on me, tearing at my clothes and forcibly spreading my legs. I fight back with every ounce of strength I have, but it's no use. Their strength overpowers me, leaving me helpless and vulnerable.

The door to the room is torn off its hinges, and a horde of orcs pour in. They're covered in blood and gore, with deep scars etched into their green skin. Their weapons are stained red, and their eyes are filled with a wild, feral rage.

I scramble back, trying to put some distance between myself and the elves while they're distracted. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

One of the orcs, a massive brute with long, black dreads and a scar running down the left side of his face, steps forward. He's carrying a large battle-axe, and he looks like he knows how to use it.

Gorthak?

18

CASSIA

Ican't believe my eyes. Gorthak is here, in the flesh, standing before me like a warrior from a dream. He's even more terrifying and magnificent than I remember, his muscles rippling with every movement, his battle-axe gleaming with fresh blood.

The dark elves who were tormenting me only moments ago are now lying in a heap on the floor, their bodies twisted and broken. Gorthak's eyes are blazing with fury as he delivers a warning to the remaining elves.

"Leave now, and I may let you live," he growls, his voice deep and menacing.

But the elves only laugh, their eyes glinting with malice. They think they can take on Gorthak and his fellow orcs, but they have no idea what they're up against.

With a roar, Gorthak charges at the elves, his axe slicing through the air with deadly precision. The elves try to fight back, but they're no match for Gorthak's strength and skill. Within moments, they're lying on the ground, their bodies mangled and lifeless.

Gorthak strides over to me, his eyes softening as he takes in my battered and bruised form. He reaches out a hand, and I take it, feeling a surge of warmth and safety wash over me.

"Cassia," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

I throw my arms around him, sobbing with relief and joy. He's real. He's here. He's my person.

"I can die happy now," I whisper, my voice muffled against his chest.

Gorthak growls, his arms tightening around me. "You will not be dying," he says fiercely.

But before we can savor the moment, the Master appears, his eyes glowing with dark magic. He begins raising the dead to fight against Gorthak and the other orcs.

Gorthak sets me down gently, cupping my chin and gazing into my eyes. Eyes that once I might have said were black. But they are so much more than that. They are deep with warmth, the hints of brown lighting up as he looks at me in a way only he ever has.

With that, he joins the other orcs, his axe swinging in a deadly arc as he fights against the corpses and dark elves that pour into the room. I watch in awe, my heart swelling with pride and love.

The undead dark elves advance, their eyes burning with a sickening, unnatural light. I let out a bloodcurdling scream, my heart racing as adrenaline surges through my veins. There's no time to process what's happening, no time to think.

But then, in an instant, Gorthak appears. He roars ferociously, his voice echoing through the room as he intercepts the elves. With a strength that seems almost superhuman, he grabs them by the throat and hurls them towards the window overlooking the shore. I watch in horror as they writhe and twist in his grasp, their bodies contorting in ways that defy logic.

More rush over, climbing him like he's the trunk of a tree. Their bodies latch onto him as he tries to force them off. There are too many. It's too late.

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