ASHARA POV
Voices pulled me from darkness.
"—she's waking up—"
"—lost too much blood—"
"—will she remember—"
Pain exploded through my body the moment consciousness returned. My side burned like someone had shoved hot coals into the wound. Every breath felt like knives.
I tried to move and gasped. Wrong choice. The pain doubled.
"Easy." A gentle hand pressed my shoulder. "Don't move yet. Healers just finished working on you."
I forced my eyes open. An elderly orc woman leaned over me, her silver hair braided with healing charms. Behind her, I saw the inside of a tent—soft furs beneath me, the smell of healing herbs in the air.
"Where..." My throat was dry as sand. "Where am I?"
"Ashen Clan camp. You're safe." The healer offered me water. "Drink slowly."
I drank, and memories crashed back like a flood.
The attack. Fire everywhere. Torak falling with a sword through his chest. The golden-haired human knight who killed him. My own blood spreading across the ground.
And then... something else. Fuzzy and unclear.
A young human face above me. Brown hair. Green eyes filled with something that looked like guilt.
He'd dragged me somewhere. Away from the killing. Left me water.
Why?
"My brother," I croaked. "Torak. Is he—"
The healer's face told me everything.
"I'm sorry, child. They found his body in the village ruins. We buried him with the others yesterday."
Yesterday. I'd been unconscious for an entire day.
Torak was dead. Really dead. Not coming back.
The grief tried to swallow me whole. I wanted to scream, to cry, to tear the world apart.
But tears wouldn't bring him back. Screaming wouldn't undo what the humans did.
I pushed the grief down deep, locked it away where it couldn't make me weak.
"How many survived?" I asked.
The healer hesitated. "Thirty-seven. Out of two hundred."
Two hundred people. My entire village. Gone.
"Who brought me here?" I needed to focus on something other than the crushing weight of loss. "I remember... humans captured me. Put me in a cage."
"That's the strange part." The healer glanced toward the tent entrance. "A human brought you. Young soldier. Said he freed you from their camp, that you'd both been hunted. He carried you for miles despite his own injuries."
That made no sense. Humans didn't help orcs. They killed us.
"Where is he now?"
"Outside. Tharok is... discussing things with him."
The way she said "discussing" made my stomach tighten. I knew Tharok—the Ashen Clan's war chief. He didn't trust humans. Wouldn't trust a human who claimed to help an orc.
"I need to see him."
"You can't walk yet—"
"Then help me." I grabbed the healer's arm. "Please. If he saved me, I owe him truth about what's happening."
The healer sighed but helped me sit up. The world spun. My side screamed in protest. But I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.
She supported me as I limped to the tent entrance and pushed aside the flap.
Outside, I saw him.
The young human soldier knelt in the center of the camp, surrounded by at least twenty armed warriors. His hands were bound. Blood and dirt covered his face. But those green eyes—the same ones from my fuzzy memory—stayed steady even with so many weapons pointed at him.
Tharok stood before him, massive and scarred, his axe resting on his shoulder.
"Tell me again, human," Tharok growled. "Why betray your people?"
"Because what they did was wrong." The soldier's voice shook but held firm. "They massacred civilians. Children. They're burning evidence of something—I don't know what yet. But I found Church supply crates in Ashara's village dated before the war started. Nothing about this war makes sense."
"So you freed one orc to ease your guilt?" Tharok's tone was dangerous. "Made yourself feel like a hero?"
"No." The soldier—Kieran, I remembered—met Tharok's eyes. "I freed her because she deserved to live. Because someone had to do the right thing, even if it was stupid."
"Stupid." Tharok leaned closer. "That is one word for it. Another word is 'spy.' How do we know you're not here to learn our camp location? To bring your army back to kill more of us?"
"You don't." Kieran's honesty was almost shocking. "You have no reason to trust me. But I'm not a spy. I'm just... someone who couldn't keep following orders that felt wrong."
One of the warriors spat at Kieran's feet. "Humans killed my wife! My children! Why should we believe anything you say?"
Others voiced agreement. Angry shouts. Calls for execution.
I limped forward before I could think better of it.
"Wait."
Every head turned toward me. Tharok's eyes widened. "Ashara! You shouldn't be up—"
"He's telling truth." I pointed at Kieran. "I remember now. He found me in their camp. Unlocked the cage. Fought his own soldiers to help me escape."
"He could still be a spy," someone argued.
"A spy who killed his own people to maintain his disguise?" I shook my head, then regretted it as dizziness hit. "No. Spies don't burn bridges like that. He's a traitor to humans now. They'll hunt him as eagerly as they hunt us."
Kieran looked at me with something like gratitude in his eyes.
Tharok wasn't convinced. "Even if true, what do we do with him? Let a human live in our camp? He's seen where we hide."
"So kill me after Ashara heals," Kieran said quietly. "But let her recover first. She needs rest, not stress from watching you execute her rescuer."
The warriors muttered among themselves. Some still wanted him dead immediately.
Tharok studied both of us for a long moment. Then he sighed—a sound like rocks grinding.
"Fine. Human lives until Ashara recovers. Then chieftains decide his fate." He pointed at Kieran. "But you stay bound. Stay guarded. One wrong move, and I'll remove your head myself. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Don't call me 'sir.' I'm not your commander." Tharok turned to the warriors. "Take him to the prisoner tent. Double guards."
They dragged Kieran away. He didn't resist, didn't fight. Just went quietly.
Before he disappeared, he looked back at me. Our eyes met.
"Thank you," he mouthed.
Then he was gone.
The healer rushed to my side. "Back to bed. Now. Before you collapse."
She was right. My legs were giving out. But as she helped me back to my tent, my mind raced.
A human had saved me. Betrayed his people for me. And now he'd probably die for it.
Why would someone do that?
I thought about Torak, about my mother who was probably dead, about everyone I'd lost.
The humans took everything from me.
But one human had given me back my life.
How was I supposed to hate them all when one of them had been willing to die for me?
"Rest," the healer said, settling me back onto the furs. "You need to heal."
But as I lay there, staring at the tent ceiling, I knew I wouldn't rest easy.
Because tomorrow, I'd have to testify before the chieftains. Tell them what I knew about Kieran Ashfeld.
And my words would decide whether he lived or died.
The question was: what would I say?
Could I condemn the human who saved me? Or would saving him make me a traitor to my own people—to Torak's memory?
I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come.
Somewhere in the camp, Kieran sat in a prisoner tent, waiting to learn his fate.
And I was the only one who could save him.
Just like he'd saved me.
Outside, I heard voices arguing. Angry voices. One shouted: "The human dies tomorrow! No discussion!"
Another replied: "Ashara will speak for him!"
"Ashara is clouded by grief! She's not thinking clearly!"
The argument grew louder. More violent.
Then a new voice cut through the noise—cold and commanding. A voice I recognized from childhood.
My mother's voice.
"Enough! I will question the human myself. And if I believe he's a spy, I'll kill him with my own hands."
My mother was alive.
And she was going to interrogate Kieran.
Mother, who'd lost her son to humans yesterday. Mother, who had every reason to hate all humans with every fiber of her being.
Mother, who showed no mercy to enemies.
I had to get up. Had to reach Kieran before she did.
But my body wouldn't move. The healing had drained everything.
I could only lie there, listening to footsteps approaching the prisoner tent.
Listening to my mother's voice say: "Bring me the human traitor. Now."
And knowing that by morning, Kieran Ashfeld might be dead.