Chapter 27 Threk
THREK
My world is her face.
She is frozen, her blue eyes wide with a horror that is not for herself, but for me. Her lips are parted, my name a silent, broken word.
I see Larda. I see the black, swirling void of death gathering in his hand, a vortex of pure, personal hatred. He is not aiming at me. He is aiming at her.
I see the Wildspont, the white fire of the overloaded magic, screaming and unraveling behind us.
A black death in front of her. A white death behind her.
And I am in the middle.
There is no thought. There is no plan. There is no me anymore. There is only Betty. The elven magic inside me screams to run, to save the vessel, to protect itself. But the new, clear part of my mind, the part that is Threk, screams louder.
Protect. Mine.
It is the only command that has ever mattered.
I do not lunge at Larda. I lunge at her.
I am a blur of desperation, my wounded leg forgotten, my entire being focused on a single, final act.
I slam into her, a living shield of muscle and hide, crushing her small, warm body into the soft, glowing moss.
I envelop her completely, tucking my head, curling my body, making myself a cage of flesh and bone to save her.
I feel my muscles lock, bracing for the impact.
And then… agony.
It is not pain. Pain is a blade. This is unmaking.
Larda’s black, foul magic tears into my back.
It is a thousand hot knives of pure hate that shred my flesh and boil my blood, a torment worse than the rituals that made me.
At the exact same instant, the Wildspont explodes.
The white, clean fire of the overloaded magic slams into my back from the other side, a tidal wave of pure, screaming energy.
I am the battleground.
I am caught between the hate of the dark elves and the purity of the world. I am burning and freezing at the same time.
I am being torn apart.
The pain is so absolute that it breaks something. It shatters the cage.
The burning behind my eyes, the red haze that has ruled my every waking moment for years… it flickers. It hisses like water on a forge as the white light floods it. It fights. It screams.
And with a final, agonizing pop deep inside my skull, the red vanishes.
The burning stops.
And I am free.
My mind, my real mind, floods in.
Memories. Not fragments. Whole.
I see a green world, vibrant and sharp. I smell pine and roast meat over a clan fire. A woman's hand—a strong, green hand with blunt nails—is touching my face. Mother.
I hear my name. Namir. She is calling me Namir.
I see my first hunt. I am a novice warrior, sixteen summers old. I see the pride in my father's eyes as he claps my shoulder. My body is lean and hard, not this monstrous shape.
Then... fire. The destructive fire. Elves. Screams.
I feel the agony of the first change. The magic tearing my bones and stretching my skin, the red haze descending for the first time to smother Namir, burying him alive inside this Urog's body.
A lifetime of pain. A lifetime of rage. A lifetime of being caged.
But then... a new memory. A stronger one.
A small, cold hovel. The smell of herbs and woodsmoke. A gentle, pale hand touching my face, not in memory, but in truth.
Betty.
Her voice humming a lullaby in the dark of the blizzard. Her body in the hot spring, clean and shining, her hands tracing my scars. Her face in the firelight just days ago, calling me a star. Her scream as she called my name... Threk... taking me into her.
Her. Mine.
I weigh it in this final, clear moment. My whole Orc life... my childhood, my clan, my name... it is nothing. It is a shadow. It is a ghost.
This time with her... these few weeks... this is the only true thing I have ever known. This is the only time I have ever been alive.
This was my life.
The pain is fading. The burning in my back is gone. The cold is gone. Agony is gone.
I feel... peace.
I won. I saved her.
My life for hers.
The mural was right. A life willingly given. Not for me. For her.
The magic is fading now, and the world is fading with it. I can feel my body... dissolving. Coming apart into pure, warm light.
I have to see her. One last time.
With the last atom of my strength, an effort that costs me everything, I turn my head. I look over my shoulder, into the small, safe cave I have made of my body.
She is there. Safe. Untouched. Staring at me with wide, blue, terrified eyes that are drowning in tears.
My red eyes... his eyes... are fading. The Urog is gone. Namir is gone. Only Threk remains.
I open my mouth. My lips are numb. I push out the only word that matters.
"Betty."
The name is a sigh of love. A prayer. A goodbye.
And I dissolve.