Page 42 of Orc's Little Human
I watch him work, noting the careful precision of each stroke against the steel. His hands move with the same confidence they showed when he fought Varok, when he channeled power through stone and earth to protect what mattered to him.
To protect me.
The realization still takes my breath away. He chose me over his clan, over eight years of leadership and a lifetime of belonging. No one has ever made that kind of sacrifice for my sake—no one has ever thought I was worth it.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words scraping past the knot in my throat.
Korrath's hands still. When he looks up, his molten gold eyes reflect firelight like precious metal. "For what?"
"For all of it. For the brand, for what it did to your magic, for making you choose?—"
"Stop." His voice cuts through my litany of guilt like a blade through silk. "You didn't make me do anything. Every choice I made was mine."
But you wouldn't have needed to make those choices if you'd never met me.The words want to spill out, to give voice to the guilt that's been eating at me since we left Gor'thul. Instead, I force myself to meet his gaze, to see the truth burning there.
He doesn't regret it. Despite everything he's lost, despite the uncertainty of our future, Korrath doesn't regret choosing me.
Maybe it's time I stopped regretting it too.
The brand beneath my tunic pulses with dull heat, as though responding to the shift in my thoughts. It's been doing that more often since we left—aching when I'm lost in guilt, burning when Korrath's magic stirs, settling into warmth when we're close like this.
Like it's trying to tell me something I'm not ready to hear.
"The mark," Korrath says quietly, settling his sharpened knife aside. "Will you tell me about it?"
My hand moves instinctively to my collarbone, fingers pressing against the fabric that hides the twisted sigil burned into my skin. For weeks, I've avoided this conversation. Avoided thinking too deeply about what was done to me in that place, what it means that my body survived when others died screaming.
But sitting here by the fire, with Thali sleeping peacefully beside me and Korrath watching with patient concern, the walls I've built around that memory feel less necessary.
He deserves to know.The thought settles in my chest like truth finally acknowledged.He deserves to understand what he's bound himself to.
"It happened in the death camp," I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. "There was a man there—Rusk. He brought people in for... experiments."
Korrath's jaw tightens, but he doesn't interrupt.
"They did things to us. Magic, torture, things I don't have words for." My fingers worry at the hem of my tunic, finding patterns in the worn fabric. "The brand was part of it. They would heat this metal sigil until it glowed like a star, then press it into our skin while channeling magic through it."
The memory makes my stomach twist, bile rising in my throat. I can still smell the burned flesh, still hear the screams that echoed through those underground chambers.
"Most people died," I continue, forcing the words past the tightness in my chest. "Some instantly, some over days as the magic ate at them from the inside. But my body... it took the mark. Healed around it. They said I was useful."
Useful.The word tastes like poison on my tongue. That's all I was to them—a tool that could survive their experiments when others couldn't.
"I never knew what it was for," I admit. "Just that everything hurt when they worked their magic, and the brand would burn like they were pressing hot iron to my skin all over again."
Korrath leans forward, his massive frame seeming to fill the space between us. "It amplifies magic. Specifically blood-forged magic."
I nod, though hearing him say it makes something twist in my chest. "I figured that out when your power started reacting to it. But I don't understand why it doesn't hurt when you use it the way it did with them."
His eyes narrow thoughtfully. "Different intent, maybe. Those bastards were trying to hurt you, to break you. When I use my magic..." He trails off, studying my face in the firelight.
"When you use it, you're protecting me," I finish softly.
"Always." The word carries weight, promise, certainty that makes the brand beneath my tunic pulse with sudden warmth.
We sit in silence for a long moment, watching flames dance and spark. Thali stirs against my side, murmuring something unintelligible before settling deeper into sleep.
"Can I see it?" Korrath asks.
