Page 60 of Bound in Flames

Some of the women were gathered around the fires, preparing meals, mending clothes, and talking quietly amongst themselves, their conversations held more than just idle gossip. These caretakers were the clan’s backbone, silent anchors holding their people together, while the warriors fought and the leaders made decisions. Yet despite the role I’d grown into, I sometimes still felt like I was watching from the outside, a stranger looking in on something I didn’t fully understand.

Everywhere I went, I felt their eyes on me. Some of the orcs watched with awe, others with curiosity, and a few with uncertainty or suspicion. I understood why—ever since the prophecy had been revealed, ever since I’d been named theshaman meant to lead them back to the valley, I was no longer an outsider; I was their hope against the dark magic that threatened their way of life. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was an imposter.

“Shaman, will you join us?”

I hesitated, unsure. I’d been keeping to myself more and more lately, afraid that any sign of doubt or weakness would undermine the faith they’d put in me. But something in the woman’s eyes reassured me.

They made space for me on one of the large stones surrounding the fire, the flames warming my skin. These women had an air of wisdom about them, and as I settled into the circle, I could feel their quiet strength. These weren’t just any orcs—these were the elders, women who had seen generations rise and fall, who had endured more than I could imagine.

The woman who had called to me was older, her gray hair neatly braided down her back, the lines on her face marking her many years. Despite her age, her eyes were sharp and clear, full of life and knowledge. She smiled at me warmly, though I sensed something probing in her gaze, as if she were looking beyond the surface, assessing me.

“How are you? We’ve heard rumors of your struggles with offensive magic.”

They all knew about my struggles.Great.The orcs had placed so much faith in me, and admitting my failures felt like betraying that trust. But I couldn’t lie, not to these women who had lived through more than I ever would. There was no point in pretending I had everything under control.

“It’s... difficult.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “I can heal, but when it comes to the other magic, it doesn’t come naturally to me.”

The older woman nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “Magic is not something that can be forced. It must be allowed toflow through you like a river. If you try to control it too tightly, it will slip away, just as water does when grasped by a fist.”

I looked down at my hands, frowning as I remembered all the times I had tried to summon the magic, only to feel it vanish the moment I tried to take hold of it. Frustration crept into my voice. “Yes. Every time I try to channel the earth or air, it feels like I’m fighting against it, like it’s resisting me.”

One of the other women, younger but with the same sharpness in her eyes, leaned forward. Her voice was quiet but filled with authority. “Magic isn’t always for the mind to understand. Sometimes, it must be felt with the heart.”

I looked at her, a skeptical frown tugging at my lips. “But if I don’t understand it, how can I control it? How can I protect the clan if I don’t know how to wield it?”

“You don’t control it,” She met my gaze, her voice soft but resolute. “Elemental magic can’t be controlled.”

Her words echoed my deepest fear, a chill prickling down my spine as I wondered if I would ever safely harness the power within, to keep the magic from consuming me.

“There are some in the clan who believe all magic must be tightly controlled,” the younger woman added, her eyes locking onto mine. “But there was a time when our shamans were as wild as the magic they channeled, using the raw power of their hearts to shape it. They didn’t fear the chaos, they embraced it.”

I let my gaze drift across the women gathered around the fire. These women had lived their entire lives in tune with the earth, with the magic that flowed around them, even if they couldn’t wield it themselves. They understood things on a level I could only hope to one day match.

“I’m trying,” I said softly, my voice betraying the uncertainty that gnawed at me. “But what if I can’t figure it out in time? The darkness is still out there. It’s getting stronger, and I can feel it creeping closer every day.”

The older woman’s expression darkened. Her voice carried a weighty gravity, each word resonating with the solemnity of her warning. “Darkness waits patiently, like a shadow that creeps ever closer, feeding on the fear it cultivates. What matters is the intent with which you wield it, not the source from which you draw.”

Fear had been my constant companion for so long—fear of my own power, fear of failing the clan, fear of what the prophecy demanded of me. And it was true: that fear had been gnawing away at me, weakening my resolve. But could I really let it go? Could I trust myself enough to channel the magic without letting it slip out of control?

“I don’t know if I can,” I whispered, more to myself than to them.

The older woman reached out and placed a hand on mine, her grip surprisingly strong for someone her age. “You are our shaman,” she said firmly. “But you are also one of us now. We stand with you, Cleo. You do not carry this burden alone.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat as I questioned whether I was worthy of the trust and faith they’d placed in me. Firelight danced over their wise, weathered faces, casting shadows that highlighted every line etched by time and hardship. These women had lived through the worst. They had survived wars, loss, and exile from their ancestral lands. They had faced darkness before, and they were still standing. And now they were standing with me.

“Seer Arna teaches you control,” the younger woman continued, her voice a little softer now, “but remember, elemental magic cannot be controlled, only guided. Use whatever emotion is strong enough to hold onto, and use that strength with your intent.”

I had been holding on too tightly, clenching my fists around the magic, trying to force it to bend to my will. But maybe thatwasn’t what it needed. Maybe the magic wasn’t something to be wielded with force. Maybe it was something to be guided, coaxed, and allowed to flow naturally.

“Thank you. You’ve given me much to think about.”

The older woman smiled, a gentle, knowing smile. “It will be enough.Youwill be enough.”

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, along with something quieter but more powerful. Hope. Maybe they were right and I didn’t have to control everything. Maybe I could trust myself, trust the magic, and trust the bond I shared with Dex and the clan.

The conversation lingeredwith me as I left the elders’ circle, and I felt lighter, a weight lifting from my shoulders and I didn’t feel quite so afraid.

I fled the gardens,frustration rolling off me in suffocating waves, each step fueled by the crushing weight of failure pressing against my chest. The air in the stronghold felt thick, the cool stone walls closing in as I moved through the dimly lit corridors. My pulse thundered in my ears, and my hands were clenched into fists at my sides. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't grasp control of my magic. It flared and pulsed when I least expected it—wild, reckless, and terrifying. It rose to protect me instinctively, surging forth like a beast with a mind of its own, but when I reached for it with intention, it slipped through my fingers like smoke. The thought haunted me, tightening around my throat like a noose. What if the next time it reacted without my consent? If it was Dex standing too close? What if it was Arna, or one of the warriors? What if I lost control at theworst possible moment and hurt the very people I had sworn to protect?What if it was the children?My stomach churned with dread, the fear gnawing at my edges like hungry wolves as I hurried toward the comfort of our quarters.So much for my positivity from earlier…

---