"...Home. Oguk."
I closed my eyes, letting guilt wash over me alongside longing. I missed my parents, Leone, and Kristan—not like an open wound anymore, but as a constant weight I had learned to bear. It didn’t hurt as much as it used to, and that, somehow, frightened me.
I took pride in surviving so long away from home, even being what Kalisha had once called me: kor’kam—useless. Yet, sometimes during the day, I felt a pang of longing for the scent of jasmine on clear Ceilte mornings, my mother’s embrace, conversations with my father at meals, Kristan’s sweet voice sharing gossip, and even Leone’s teasing.
"I miss the people," I replied at last.
Kalisha sighed, a long, mournful sound. In these past days by her side, I had noticed the melancholy that clung to her—the way she would drift into silence, staring into the distance, her thoughts clearly far from here. My heart tightened at the sight of her, so distant even when she stood beside me.
"I’ve never left Oksha. This has always been my home," she said, pausing briefly. "But sometimes, I wonder if there isn't... something else out there."
She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, searching beyond the hills and trees that surrounded the village. The wind stirred her dark hair, making her look smaller, almost young, without the armor she wore for the rest of the world.
"Like what?" I asked, carefully.
Kalisha shrugged. "A place where I’m not... different," she replied, brushing her fingers over her own hand. "Where they don't look at me with pity when they think I'm not watching."
I had learned to recognize this silent weight Kalisha carried for never quite fitting in. The orcs had begun to treat me as an equal, but her presence remained on the margins, not out of cruelty, but because that was how their culture was. However, this lack of recognition hurt almost as much as intentional cruelty.
"You’re the most determined orc I know," I said, looking into her brown eyes, so much like Malek’s.
She looked away, and when she faced me again, those brown eyes shimmered.
"That isn't enough. Not for anyone," her voice was a whisper of pain. "Especially not for the one I desire most."
"They’re wrong," I countered, impatient with their ignorance. "Strength isn't just lifting an axe. It’s getting back up after a fall. And you get up every single time."
She remained silent, absorbing what I had just said. Finally, she nodded slowly.
"Perhaps," she said. "But it’s not enough for them."
I stood up from the log, determined.
"Let’s continue," I said, extending my hand to her. "And, Kalisha… if someone doesn't offer you the love and attention you desire, then move on. You deserve more than that."
Kalisha stared at me with wide eyes, caught off guard by my bluntness. After a few heartbeats, her expression smoothed over. She took a deep breath, closed her fingers tightly around my hand, and nodded, her gaze now resolute.
???
We trained until the sun was high in the sky. My arms burned, my shoulders protested, and sweat cooled against my skin. When we finally stopped, neither of us spoke.
We returned to the hut in silence, our bodies exhausted and our steps heavy. As I pushed through the bone beads at the entrance, the fatigue hit me all at once.
I had never exerted myself physically as much as I did there, and, to my surprise, it felt good. My body responded in a new way—stronger, shaped by constant training and the necessity of survival. I felt more resilient than I had ever been, not just in body, but mentally. Every morning, I reminded myself that I was still there. I wasn’t weak.
I closed my eyes, ready to rest for a moment before heading out to forage in the forest, when a commotion outsidethe hut caught my attention. Kalisha and I exchanged a quick look and hurried out to see what was happening.
The buzz grew as we approached, orc voices overlapping in harsh tones. The air, saturated with the scent of blood and sweat, put me on high alert. My heart raced as I remembered that Malek had been out on patrol. By the Goddess Danu, I hoped he was safe and sound.
I reached the center of the village, and amid the voices and shifting bodies, Malek was the first thing I saw. He was covered in dirt, and dried red blood stained his leather armor, but his eyes remained sharp.
Relief washed over me all at once, unexpected, loosening something in my chest I hadn't even realized was tight. Air seemed to return to my lungs, and the tension that had accompanied me since the day he left began to dissolve. Seeing him standing there, whole, made my heart slow down, even if the worry still refused to leave completely.
After all, there was High Fae blood staining his clothes. Drak was there too, limping slightly, his face marked by exhaustion but carrying an evident pride. Wherever they had been, it hadn't been easy.
As if sensing my gaze, Malek turned his face in my direction, and our eyes met. My heart stumbled, sending a sudden warmth spreading through my body. I stood frozen there, in the middle of the Okshai orcs, staring at the Ruk’hai as if he were the only thing that mattered.
Something inside me stretched toward him, that same silent tug I had felt before. My feet moved on their own accord. Malek seemed to respond to the same call, stepping toward me, his long strides cutting a path through the other orcs.
