"Why was the heir of Ceilte in Oksha?" Roak asked.
I took a deep breath. This was the most complicated part to explain, because I would have to admit that I had lied to my people and sheltered the enemy right under their noses.
"The Autumn Court tortured Leone. On the day we attacked the soldiers, he was inside the magic cage. To protecthim, Fiona and I made a blood bargain; in exchange for our protection, she will help us secure peace with Ceilte."
No one spoke after that.
"What do we do now?" Kroshak asked.
"Fiona and Leone returned to Ceilte with Drak to expose Fenric’s treachery and find Alasdair," I replied. "If he is rescued, peace will be the only option. Otherwise, we must prepare for war."
That was enough to calm the orcs—for now. The assembly dispersed quickly; there was much to do to rebuild our village. In such a short time, the cursed kir’shakur forces had destroyed what had taken years to build.
Back in my cabin, silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. Fiona’s scent still clung to the air, a haunting reminder of the days we had shared—and of the fact that she was gone.
As the adrenaline faded and my body cooled, exhaustion struck hard.
We were on the brink of another war.
Oksha depended on me. If Alasdair didn't accept the deal, or if Fenric prevailed, we were doomed. And if anything happened to Fiona… the High Fae would finally understand why they had never managed to conquer us.
???
The day passed in a blur. The light shifted outside without me noticing; shadows lengthened, and the hours dissolved while I helped the orcs clear the last traces of the battle.
The bodies of the High Fae were carried to the pyre and tossed into the fire without ceremony. Ours, however, received what they deserved—a dignified funeral marked by respect and honor.
Kroshak intoned the prayer to the Great Mother, asking her to bless and purify the bodies of our brothers and sisters, and to guide them with mercy and strength on their journey to the Otherworld.
Once he finished, everyone in the clan stepped forward to pay their respects to the fallen. I was always the first in the battle line, but the last to say goodbye, for as their leader, their deaths rested heavily on me. I bore the blame for each one.
The orcs touched the bodies of the fallen; some wept in silence, while others bowed their heads, unable to find words. The entire kuturo shared the same grief. That was the cruelest part of living so long: when one of us departed, the pain became nearly impossible to bear.
When my turn came, I stepped forward and intoned the final prayer they would hear on this plane.
For all who have departed from this earth,
may eternity grant peace to a weary mind.
Though their strength has faded, their essence remains.
May the Great Mother receive them with open arms,
and may we meet again in her embrace,
when time is no longer a burden,
and our flesh returns to dust in the ground.
Let the end be not a farewell,
but simply a return to the life unbound.
When the prayer ended, we remained silent, watching the great roots of the Harksh’k close around the bodies, embracing them and guiding them slowly into the earth's depths.
With nothing left to say, the others gradually returned to their tasks. In the end, only Kroshak, Uruha, Kalisha, and I remained.
"You did the right thing, ashkru," Kroshak declared, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch didn't erase the pain, but it made it bearable, easing the tightness in my chest for a moment.
