Chapter 107

I watched the purple-and-yellow people march down the road.

Arvellians. That’s what He called them.

They wore metal over their bodies - hard, shining shells, like they expected to be struck. Like they were afraid of it. The armor made them slow. Heavy. The rain turned the road to mud, and the mud dragged at their feet, pulled at them, made them slower still.

Some rode horses. Most walked.

There were so many of them. Thousands.

Clo had said there were a lot of orcs coming from the west. I wondered if there were this many.

The line stretched far - longer than I could see without moving. A river of bodies and steel, flowing down the path for over a mile. And they stayed on it. Almost all of them. Like they knew better than to step off.

I thought about the rockslide.

One push. That’s all it would take. Stone and earth would crash down and **** the road. Break them. Scatter them.

But He wanted to talk. Even though they wouldn’t listen.

So I stayed where I was. Crouched high on the sheer cliff, wings folded tight against my back, still as stone. Watching.

We’d already taken the Others to the demesne. Vel had introduced them to her friends. Maybe they were learning - like we had. To run with them. To ride them.

All I knew was that the danger was out here. And to protect the pack, we were going to need to fight. Here. Not there.

* * *

I watched the orcs crash through the forest.

Most of them didn’t stay on the path.

So they paid for it.

They dropped into the pits Thae had dug - spikes punching up into flesh with wet, ugly sounds. Others caught the vines she’d strung low between the trees, legs tangling before they hit the ground hard. Some triggered the logs - spiked trunks that swung down from above and crushed bone with a single, brutal strike.

They got hurt. Some of them died.

But most… got back up.

They were tough.

Not like the little ones at home. Tib cried when he skinned his knee. Lilae cried when I pulled her hair.

These orcs walked on broken ankles. Limped forward with wounds split open, blood running freely down their legs. Some had spikes still lodged in them, snapping the shafts off and pushing on like it didn’t matter.

I watched them, measuring. We’d have to be careful.

They didn’t go down like deer. Didn’t go down like boar.

But they did go down. Eventually.

I moved with them, keeping to the trees. It wasn’t hard. There were too many of them, and they were slow - bunched together, focused forward. When one fell into a pit, the others slowed, looking down, watching their footing.

That was a mistake.

Not all the traps were on the ground.

One of them tripped a spell trap. Lightning cracked out from a hidden runestone, blinding and violent. It hit him square in the head and it exploded.

Flesh. Bone. Gone in an instant.

I grinned.

I wanted to see it happen again.

* * *

I sat on top of the keep, chewing birch pitch and watching.

It was boring. B-O-R… ing. I didn’t know how to spell it. Writing was stupid anyway. Almost as stupid as sitting here waiting for something to happen.

I didn’t know why I got stuck with this job.

I wanted to go back to the demesne. Play with Vel’s friends. They were fun. Fast. Strong. I wanted to see how hard I could hit the Others before they hit back.

Instead, I had to sit here and watch Him.

The orcs came first. From the west.

They had to curve around the cliff, funneling toward the bridge and the gate. There were so many of them. Clo hadn’t lied. There were as many as stars.

He stood on the wall, looking down at them. He said something. It probably wasn’t important. They weren’t going to listen anyway.

They answered with arrows.

His staff-lady snapped into a shield, silver and smooth, and the arrows bounced away like they didn’t matter.

Then the orcs started shouting. And they charged the gate.

Music started. He started singing - something about a living dead girl.

Orcs hit the bridge-

-and fell into the water.

I giggled.

They kept shooting, but when the arrows got close, they bent. Split. Curved around him like they were afraid to touch him.

That was funny too.

I wasn’t bored anymore.

I wanted to go down there. Push them off myself. See how many I could knock into the water before they caught on.

But I had to stay. Watch. At least it was interesting now.

Then I saw more people. Purple and yellow. Coming down the road behind the orcs.

Arvellians.

When they saw the orcs, they shouted and ran at them.

I wrinkled my nose.

They wore metal everywhere. Thick. Heavy. It made them slow. They moved like they were stuck in mud - even when they weren’t.

They waved swords around like children.

Stupid.

That’s not how you kill.

You stay quiet. You get close. Then you end it.

You don’t scream. You don’t stomp around like a toddler in a metal diaper. You don’t swing before you’re even in range.

Ashlara knew how to use a sword.

She was controlled. Precise. Strong. She moved when it mattered. Didn’t waste energy.

I bet she could kill almost as many of these people as I could. That would be fun to watch.

The two groups collided. Hard. A loud, ugly crash of metal and flesh.

More orcs went over the bridge. Some of the humans dropped where they stood. Blades bit. Blood sprayed. People screamed. And more Arvellians kept coming.

There were way more of them. But each orc took five or six humans with them before they fell.

I watched, head tilted, trying to figure it out. I didn’t know who was going to win.

Then something changed. People appeared in the bailey. Not people. Not really.

A man made of marble. A woman with fire for hair. A woman of metal. A green one. A blue one. A massive girl shaped from stone. A lady made of glass.

They surrounded Him. They shouted. He shouted back.

He dropped to his knees. The marble man swung, his golden sword flashing as it cut toward Him.

And I knew it was time. I howled once, then stepped.

* * *

I wasn’t even fully awake before I was on my feet, stumbling through the morning and trying to get ahead of the day. There was too much to do and not enough time to think about any of it.

Breakfast came and went in a blur.

The ferals scattered the moment they were done - gone before I could even ask where they were headed.

I checked on the other children, made sure everyone was accounted for, then went to the villagers.

That… took a while. Problems piled up faster than I could solve them - questions, shortages, arguments, fears. It kept me tied down for hours, running from one issue to the next, barely able to catch my breath.

Then the wind changed.

Cold. Sharp. It cut through the demesne like something alive.

Clouds rolled in - fast. Too fast. They churned overhead, thick and heavy, swallowing the sky. Lightning cracked through them, bright and violent, close enough to feel.

I’d seen this before. When Seth fought Brand.

That kind of power. That kind of wrong.

I didn’t waste time. “Inside!” I shouted, herding the villagers toward their homes. “Everyone inside, now!”

Doors slammed. Windows shut. Fear spread faster than the storm.

I turned and ran. I had to make sure the children were safe before I went anywhere else.

“Where are the others?” I called as I reached the entry way. “Nim - where’s Vel, Thae, and-”

A howl split the air. Distant. Sharp. It sent a chill straight through me.

Nim stilled. “Stay here,” he said, his voice low, certain. “We will protect the pack.”

“Wait - get your ass back here!” I snapped.

Too late. He was gone. Not running - gone. The strange pull of the demesne swallowed him, ripping him away faster than my eyes could follow.

“Son of a whore!” I swore.

I spun. “Torvek!”

“Yes?” His voice came steady, serious - no hesitation.

“Keep everyone safe,” I said. “If anything happens in here, you get them out. Don’t go to the keep. Anywhere but there.”

I clenched my jaw, already turning toward the storm. “I’m going to protect our home.”

* * *

I’d donned the armored shirt Mirri had made for me. At a glance it looked like clothing - tailored, fitted, almost formal - but the wooden plates hidden inside were shaped perfectly to my body. They didn’t bite. Didn’t restrict. Didn’t even remind me they were there.

My cloak settled over it, Lilae’s bright, careful stitching lining the inside - bursts of color against the dull gray of the day. Inside the hidden pockets were the things that mattered.

Tib’s toolkit. Issa’s scale. Brinja’s journal - its pages already filled with my cramped notes about the children, about this place, about everything I didn’t want to forget.

Elarion’s arrow rested along the inner seam. I didn’t know how I’d use it. Only that it was there if needed.

Ashlara’s pendant hung warm against my chest. Mak’s bracelet circled my wrist.

The only gifts I didn’t carry were too large to wear - Torvek’s statue stood just inside the keep, and Serah’s hung above the doorway, watching over us all.

I stood atop the curtain wall and waited.

They came an hour or two later.

Orcs.

A flood of bodies pouring out of the forest, surrounding the keep like a tightening noose. Five thousand, maybe more. Warlords gathered at the front - most of the ones I recognized. Kael was missing.

No shamans.

Good. Maybe someone had listened.

Several of their warriors limped or bled, already wounded before the battle even began. Infighting. Accidents. It didn’t matter.

I raised my voice. “The Arvellians are on their way!” I called down. “So are the Illvarions! The Morenti!” A lie. But maybe it would be enough.

“And the Myrddin are coming,” I added, my voice hardening. “Go home. Ensure your children have parents. Do not throw your lives away on a lie!”

Their answer came in the hiss of bowstrings. A volley darkened the sky.

Adhaneth was already moving - flowing into a shield around my arm. Arrows shattered against her surface in a clatter of wood and iron.

Then the war horns sounded.

They charged.

“Living dead girl,” I sang.

The world answered. Guitars screamed into existence. Drums thundered. My voice twisted with the music as power surged through me.

Adhaneth snapped back into a staff as I swept my arm forward and unleashed magic. A wall of sound crashed into the charging orcs, lifting them off their feet and hurling them from the bridge into the churning moat below.

Another volley. Wind answered my call, rising sharp and sudden. Arrows bent, curved, and slid past me like I wasn’t there at all.

Beyond them purple and gold.

Arvellia.

They came at a run, shouting, charging straight into the chaos.

Steel met flesh. The sound was… wet. Messy. Final.

It became a meatgrinder. Orcs and humans slammed into each other, blades rising and falling in brutal rhythm. Limbs were severed. Guts spilled. Blood sprayed across armor and mud alike.

No one slowed. Wounds that should have dropped a man were ignored. They fought through it. Screaming. Laughing. Dying. Urzan-Brek’s madness had them all.

Behind me, Faith flared. Sharp. Heavy. Chaotic.

“Seth Grimm.” The voice cut through everything.

Aurelion.

I turned. Nearly the entirety of the High Witan stood in the bailey.

“Damnit, Aurelion,” I snapped, anger burning through me. “I don’t have time for this. I’m trying to stop a slaughter. Why don’t you help for once instead of fucking around?”

“You have been judged,” he said, voice like iron. “And found guilty. Testimony from multiple gods - you attacked them. Attempted to take their Faith. There will be no escape.”

I dropped from the wall, landing hard. “They’re lying,” I said. “I haven’t attacked anyone. Is this more of Elyndra’s bullshit?”

She stood behind them. Glass and gold and smug satisfaction. Threads of light curled through her form, spelling it out in silent accusation.

Guilty. Murderer. Slayer.

“Kneel,” Aurelion commanded.

My body betrayed me. My knees hit the ground.

His sword formed in his hand - golden, crackling, divine.

It came down.

A howl split the air.

Adhaneth surged into a shield and I threw my arm up. Steel slammed into her. The impact rang like a bell. Then she struck back.

Black tendrils erupted from her surface, lashing out, smashing into Aurelion and hurling him backward into the others.

I looked past them. To Elyndra. She smirked from behind Dromaia - the giant woman of weathered granite.

Then I saw it.

Cracks spiderwebbed across stone goddess’ form - and from those cracks, black veins crawled.

Rot. Corruption.

Myrddin.

Her expression was frozen in terror as her body began to break apart - stone crumbling into pale motes of light that ignored wind, ignored gravity.

And moved.

Toward me.

“No-” I started.

Too late. They sank into my skin. Into my chest. Into my soul.

Foreign Faith flooded me - alien, vast - and then… settled. Became mine.

Elyndra’s smile twisted into fury. “Look what he’s done!” she screamed. “He’s stolen her Faith!”

The others turned. From her. To me. Back again.

Confusion. Rage. Fear.

And then all hell broke loose.