Page 32 of Bound in Flames

Dex’s eyes were distant as he nodded. "This stronghold was built by our ancestors when the first wars began. It has protected us ever since."

Glancing over at him, I could see the pain behind his words. It wasn’t just the loss of land he was speaking about; it was the loss of a way of life, of a connection to the earth that had been stolen from them. The orcs had been forced into exile, but they had found a way to survive.

"They never dared follow you up here?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

Dex shook his head, a grim smile tugging at his lips. "They tried at first but the mountain is unforgiving. Many of their soldiers fell to the cliffs, and those who survived the climb found nothing but death waiting for them. The mountain takes care of its own.” Dex’s voice held pride, and a warning. “To them, we’re nothing but savages. We’ve always known how to live with the land. They see only stone and wind. They don’t understand thatthe mountain is alive. That it gives us what we need." Each word sounded bitter, heavy with memories of battles fought.

I nodded, a twinge of guilt twisting inside me as I realized how distorted our stories had been. The orcs weren’t the mindless monsters I had been taught to fear. They were a people of the earth, connected to the land in a way I could only begin to understand.

"We should head inside. Night’s coming, and up here, the cold doesn’t forgive.”

Reluctantly, I followed him toward the keep, accepting his warm arm around my waist as he tucked me against him, attempting to shield me from the biting cold. The orcs lining the entrance watched in silence, their expressions guarded and unreadable. Some glared, their distrust clear, but others… others looked at me with something that twisted my stomach: pity.

I couldn’t shake the unease creeping up my spine. The air inside the stronghold was heavy, and the echoes of our footsteps felt too loud. I glanced at Dex, hoping for reassurance, but his face was unreadable, his golden eyes focused straight ahead.

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I asked quietly.

“They’re not used to humans here,” he said, his voice steady but clipped. “It’ll take time for them to adjust.”

I hesitated, his answer lingering uncomfortably in my mind. “It’s not just that,” I pressed. “Some of them… they look at me like they feel sorry for me. Why?”

That made him stop. He turned to face me, his gaze meeting mine with a calm intensity that only made me more uneasy. “They likely do feel sorry for you, as learning to channel can be dangerous. They’re also wary. You’re something they don’t understand—human and shaman. It’s a lot to take in.”

His expression didn’t waver. The steady confidence in his voice and his stance made me feel ridiculous for even asking. He must be right. The stress of the journey, the exhaustion, andthe nervousness of starting a new life in a place so unlike home were twisting my thoughts. I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Of course. You’re right,” I murmured, though the unease in my chest didn’t fully fade.

He turned and I hurried to follow. But even as I tried to brush away the lingering doubts, the memory of those pitying stares stayed with me. I cast one last glance at the terraces, I could feel the weight of the mountain pressing down on us as we stepped inside the massive stone doors. I was immediately struck by the warmth and life that filled the central hall. There was a vibrant burst of color and activity, illuminated by the flickering glow of torches set into the walls. The room was lined with deep red tapestries embroidered with intricate patterns, the color vivid against the stone. The floor was a bustle of movement; orc men and women were going about their daily tasks. Children chased each other around tables, and the mouth-watering scent of food filled the air.

The hearth at the center of the hall burned brightly, casting a warm and inviting glow over the room. A massive cauldron hung over the fire, and several orcs were busy stirring a thick stew. The smell of roasting meat, simmering vegetables, and the sharp tang of herbs made my stomach growl with hunger.

Our party entered, a wave of recognition spread through the room. Orcs turned from their work, their faces lighting up as they greeted the returning hunters. Smiles broke out across their faces, and before long, we were surrounded by orc women offering bowls of warm stew, bread, and mugs of ale.

Warriors were greeted with food and drink, I caught a glimpse of Kaldor stepping away from the group. A large orc—his father, I assumed—clasped his forearm in a firm, wordless greeting, while a shorter but equally sharp-eyed orc woman gripped his shoulder with a rare familiarity.

Kaldor didn’t resist the embrace. For just a moment, the ever-watchful hunter softened, his posture easing under their touch. Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed, and he turned back toward the crowd, his golden eyes sharp once more.

The orc women quickly began helping the raiding party remove their gear, pulling away heavy armor, ushering us toward the hearth where we could sit and warm ourselves by the fire. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The warmth of the hall and the kindness of the orcs made me feel welcome. But just as quickly as the atmosphere had been friendly and open, I noticed a shift.

As the orcs moved closer to the fire, and I removed my travel satchels, more of them began to notice me. Their cheerful greetings grew quieter, their voices dipping into whispers as their eyes fixed on the human standing among them. Some of the women exchanged glances, their eyes narrowing with suspicion. Mothers pulled their children closer, shielding them behind their skirts, and I could see the fear in the children's wide eyes as they peeked at me.

The warmth from the fire, comforting at first, now felt thick and oppressive under the weight of their stares. I shifted, tucking my hands into my cloak.

"Is that a human?"

"What’sshedoing here?" another voice hissed.

A murmur of questions began to rise, the once-celebratory atmosphere turning tense. The whispers grew louder, voices of concern and confusion rippling through the room as more eyes turned toward me.

My stomach tightened, and my pulse quickened, a creeping sense of anxiety clawing at my chest. Of course, they’d be wary. I was human, a stranger in their home, and the stories they’d heard about my kind were likely filled with violence and betrayal. Their fear was justified, but standing there under theirstares made me feel like an intruder. Feeling the weight of their judgment was almost unbearable.

Before the tension could escalate further, a sudden hush fell over the hall. The room seemed to hold its breath, and I turned to see what—or who—had commanded such silence.

Chapter 17

Dex

Despite the crackling hearths, a chill seeped through the hall, pressing in from the mountain's depths. I stood near Cleo, feeling the unspoken worries thick in the air, heavier than the tension in my own chest. I forced my gaze back to my warriors, their eyes filled with lingering uncertainty, but my focus betrayed me, drawn again and again to her.

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