Page 39 of Bound in Flames

Dex nodded, his voice steady. “Thank you. Grath, this is Cleo.”

Grath’s eyes flicked to me, curiosity and hope shining in his gaze.

“Welcome, shaman. The clan has been waiting for you.”

I smiled awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you. It’s... a pleasure to be here.”

Dex chuckled beside me, his hand still resting on my lower back.

“Grath oversees much of the farming here,” Dex explained. “He’ll show you some of the ways the clan sustains itself. Have fun, he will bring you back after a quick tour.”

The pathto the gardens wound through the rock of the mountainside, tucked behind the stronghold and hidden fromthe view of those unfamiliar with the orcs’ traditions. I followed closely behind Grath, his muscular legs moving easily over the uneven terrain.

Arriving at the sprawling gardens, I froze, my breath catching in my chest. A lush patch of greenery nestled within the jagged cliffs and barren rock with an energy unlike anything I had ever experienced—a calm serenity. There was a wildness to it that hummed beneath the surface. An earthy perfume filled my senses, and the plants leaned toward us, as if recognizing a kindred spirit.

“Not what you expected, is it?” Grath’s tone was gruff but tinged with pride.

“No,” I admitted, still taking in the breathtaking sight, “It’s… alive.”

Grath chuckled softly. “That it is. Every leaf, every root, connected to the mountain itself. We don’t force it to grow. We ask. And when the mountain agrees, it gives.”

The hum of magic grew stronger with each step forward. I knelt beside a patch of deep green plants, their leaves thick and waxy, and let my hand rest on the humid soil. The connection was instant—a surge of life, but unlike the chaotic bursts of magic I was used to. Here, the power felt natural, like the plants were whispering their secrets to me, devoid of any hint of corruption.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Grath’s voice was quieter now, laced with understanding as he watched me run my fingers through the soil. “The earth speaks to you.”

“It does.” I could feel the steady heartbeat of the mountain, the way the roots reached deep into the ground, drawing from the life force of the land itself. It was something else—something steadying, something controlled. The garden’s peace felt profound, its quiet harmony a gentle contrast to the unforgiving mountain beyond.

Crouching beside me, Grath’s gaze softened as he watched my movements. “It took us generations to learn the ways of coaxing life from this harsh land. The mountain doesn’t give easily, but it does give.”

Lifting my hand from the soil, the residue of magic was a warm thrumming beneath my skin. “I’ve never felt anything like this before. It’s so peaceful.”

Grath inclined his head in agreement. “That’s because the earth is at peace here. We don’t demand from it, like your kind do with magic. We live alongside it. We respect it, and it respects us in return.”

I sat in the stillness of the garden, absorbing the weight of his words. In my world, magic had always been a tool, something to be harnessed andused. But with the orcs it was something else entirely. It wasn’t just a means to an end—it was a part of life, a part of survival. I wondered if my understanding of magic had been too narrow, too focused on control rather than connection.

I stood stiffly, my legs still aching from the climb the day before. “You grow all your own food here?”

Grath rose to his feet as well, his massive frame towered over me. “Mostly. The mountain provides enough if we know how to ask.”

My eyes swept over the garden again. I could see the carefully tended patches of vegetables and herbs mixed among the wild growth. It wasn’t just a garden—it was a lifeline.

“Even in the harshest winters the mountain provides, but it does not always forgive.” His tone held a warning, a reminder of the mountain’s power. “That is why balance is vital.”

My brow furrowed in confusion. The gardens didn’t look large enough to sustain a settlement of this size. “But… how? How do you grow anything in this climate? It must be freezing at night.”

“It’s the earth’s magic,” Grath explained. “We work with it and the roots reach deep, keeping the plants warm with the mountain’s core. It’s not something that happens overnight. It takes time, patience, and respect. It takes the entire spirit of the clan to evoke this kind of magic. We have been maintaining this connection since it was established centuries ago.”

I could feel the connection between the orcs and their land. They weren’t just warriors, they were caretakers of this place, protectors of the life that thrived here despite the odds. Not just savage fighters, driven by brute force. They were survivors, deeply in tune with the world around them. I realized that there was much I still didn’t understand—not just about their way of life, but about magic itself.

I felt the weight of my ignorance. My people had told stories of this wilderness like it was empty, but it wasn’t. It was grieving. And the orcs hadn’t just lost their home—they’d lost a part of themselves.

“I want to learn. Teach me how to listen.”

Grath stepped forward, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder, though softer now. “You can return here, Shaman, anytime you need peace. The gardens— They don’t just sustain the body; they sustain the spirit. It’s a place for reflection, for balance. You’ll need that if you’re going to embrace the magic inside you.”

The orcs had always seemed so hardened, but Grath’s offer felt like a glimpse into something softer beneath his guarded exterior. I smiled my thanks, truly grateful for the warmth in his offer.

“My grandfather tended these gardens for years,” Grath continued, his voice carrying the weight of history. “He was a shaman, too, though not with power like yours. His magic was small but vital. He kept the balance for our clan, ensuring the mountain provided and the earth gave. He always told me thatmagic like this—magic that works in harmony with the earth—isn’t about control. It’s about listening and embracing it.”

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