Nova leaned back on her heels, sweat beading at her brow.
“He’ll live,” she said softly, nodding toward the fallen leader. “But he’ll need time.”
A collective breath seemed to pass through the valley.
My emotions crashed over me all at once—relief, fear, anger, gratitude, disbelief.
“This isn’t over,” I whispered.
“No,” Gideon agreed quietly. “It’s just been delayed.”
The older orc studied all of us one last time.
“We came to meet you, to listen to you, to help in any way we could. We understand the mines and swamps where you live are being destroyed in seen and unseen ways.” I drew a breath. “All I wanted was for you to know that we see you and we want to hear you. Stonewick is here to help.”
The orc took in my words but didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“The destruction came when you did.”
“The Priestess wanted to turn you against us before you heard our message.”
The orc’s tusked mouth twisted into something like a grim smile, and his shoulders sagged a fraction, as if the weight of it had finally registered.
“You speak of balance,” he said, voice rough as gravel dragged through water. “Easy words for those whose lands still breathe.”
I swallowed, stepping forward before I could overthink it.
“We’re just beginning to understand what is happening in your land and in the shifter’s land. We have a hunch it is the Priestess attempting to create insecurities and drive you to her, where she would ask for heavy payment in order to return your land to what it once was.”
His tusked gaze snapped to me.
“Our streams ran clear once,” he continued, ignoring me for the moment. “Game came when called. The soil fed us without demand. The rocks spoke to us. Now?” His jaw clenched. “The roots rot. The earth drinks magic and gives nothing back. Children dream of food they’ve never tasted.”
A murmur rippled through the gathered orcs. Not anger this time. Something worse.
Hunger.
I felt it then, not in my stomach, but in my magic. A thin, gnawing pull, like the land itself was starving and magic itself was being destroyed.
Gideon inhaled slowly beside me. When he spoke, the arrogance was gone entirely.
“She did that on purpose,” he said.
The older orc’s eyes burned. “You accuse your own?”
“I accuse a Priestess who feeds on fracture,” Gideon replied. “Shadowick doesn’t rot by accident. Neither do your mines or swamps.”
He turned, gesturing toward the scarred ground beyond the Hollow.
“She seeded hunger because hunger makes soldiers. It creates desperation and desire. It asks people to march when they should be thinking.”
“And Stonewick?” the orc demanded. “You thrive while we starve.”
“No,” I said quietly. “We’re cracking. It’s just slower.”
I knelt, pressing my palm to the earth. The cold bit through my skin.
“The Wards were never meant to hoard magic,” I said. “They were meant to circulate it. Flow outward. Somewhere along the way, that flow was severed.”
