Page 53 of Orc's Little Human
I release Korrath's hand, the flow of magic tapering off but not disappearing entirely. It still hums between us, ready to answer if we call. The brand on my collarbone has stoppedburning. Instead, it feels warm, settled, like something that finally fits properly.
"I'm not your weapon," I call up to him, my voice carrying clearly in the sudden quiet. "I never was."
For the first time in my life, the words feel true. Because this time, I chose. The power that flows through me isn't something inflicted on me by cruel hands and burning brands. It's something I claimed. Something I shaped to my own will.
Rusk opens his mouth, probably to threaten or bargain or plead. But more stone shifts above his perch, responding to Korrath's will. The captain's words die in his throat as he scrambles for purchase on the crumbling ledge.
"Please," he finally manages. "I can offer you?—"
The ledge gives way.
His scream cuts off with a sickening crunch as he disappears into the gaps between the fallen stones. Then even that fades, leaving only the sound of settling rock and our own ragged breathing.
It's over. They're all dead. And for the first time since I can remember, I'm not afraid of what I am.
Because I chose this. I chose him. I chose us.
The power that runs through my veins isn't a curse anymore. It's a gift I finally know how to use.
24
KORRATH
The sound of waves against stone carries on the salt-tinged breeze, mixing with Thali's delighted laughter as she discovers another cache of shells tucked into the tide pools. Three weeks we've been here, and she still acts like each dawn brings new treasures to uncover along this stretch of coastline.
"Look, Korrath!" She bounds toward me with her latest prize—a spiral shell the size of her fist, its surface gleaming with pearl-like patterns. "It's singing!"
She holds it to her ear, amber-green eyes wide with wonder. The same expression she wore when she was barely walking, finding fascination in every shadow and sound. Some things never change, no matter how far we've traveled or what we've left behind.
"The ocean spirits are trapped inside," I tell her, settling the massive timber I've been dragging into place. "They whisper secrets to those brave enough to listen."
"What kind of secrets?"
"Where the best shells hide. Which tides bring the smoothest stones. How to build houses that won't fall down when your brother gets clumsy with the construction."
Selene's laughter drifts from where she's working on the walls of what will become our main room. The sound still catches me off guard sometimes—light and genuine, nothing like the sharp, defensive bark she used when we first met. This laugh belongs to the woman who chose to stand with me against Rusk's soldiers. Who claimed her power instead of running from it.
"I heard that," she calls without looking up from where she's carefully fitting stones together. "And for your information, these walls are going to be perfectly straight. Unlike certain support beams I could mention."
I grunt, examining the timber. Maybe it leans slightly to the left. But it's solid neptherium-touched ironwood, harder than steel and flexible enough to withstand the coastal storms that roll in from the southern seas. A little character in the grain never hurt anything.
The foundation we've laid follows the natural curve of the cliff face, working with the stone rather than fighting it. Selene suggested the design—something about how water flows around obstacles instead of through them. Smart thinking from someone who understands survival.
Three separate sleeping chambers branch off from the central gathering space, with thick walls between them for privacy. Storage rooms for food and supplies. A workshop where I can practice my blood-forging without accidentally setting anything on fire. Everything planned and built with our own hands, exactly the way we want it.
No clan rules. No death camps. No one else's expectations or demands.
Just us.
"The walls need to be higher here," Selene says, running her hands along the stone. She's gotten good at reading the flow of my magic through the rock, sensing where the mineral veins runstrongest. "If we build up another two feet, we can install proper shutters for the storm season."
I move to where she's working, letting my palm rest against the stone beside hers. The familiar warmth builds between us, magic flowing from my blood into the neptherium deposits that streak through the coastal cliffs like silver threads. Under our combined will, the stone reshapes itself, growing upward in smooth, even courses.
No pain this time. No weakening drain that leaves me hollow and shaking. When Selene channels my power, it feels like breathing. Natural. Right. The way it was always supposed to be.
She glances up at me, gray-blue eyes bright with satisfaction. "Better?"
"Perfect."
