Chapter 6
Unknown
It happened again. I felt like I was waking up. Only this time, again, I was more awake than the previous one.
I heard it again, the sounds of the sleeping orc. Only this time I couldn't see him.
Slowly, I turned until I finally saw him. He was kicked back in a chair, his feet propped on a stool. His arms were crossed over his broad chest as his head was tucked down, eyes closed, giving soft little snores.
It was only then that I realized I could move. I looked at my hands. These human hands, where stone had been before.
What was happening?
I began to move more of my body. I felt fully awake. More awake than I'd felt in a lifetime. Moving felt foreign. It was as if my very joints and muscles had to remember how to move again.
Carefully, I stepped down off the platform that I'd been standing on for who knows how long.
There was something about the orc that I couldn’t explain.
It was as if I knew him. But surely that wasn't possible, I would be able to recognize him if I’d met this handsome orc before.
An earthy scent lingered as I drew closer.
But there was something more complex to his scent.
He smelled earthy, yes, but he also smelled like old books.
It was intoxicating. I wanted to wrap myself in it.
Even as I moved closer, I had to fight the urge to reach out and caress his broad, green shoulder. The candlelight danced across his skin, casting a warm golden glow across his chest. The rise and fall of his chest in the light was even more intoxicating than his scent.
That's when I noticed the scrolls strewn out before him. There were dozens of them in an array of languages. Some of the languages I could read. Some I only recognized. While others were utterly foreign to me, like tangled branches I'd yet to climb.
I leaned in closer, giving in to the curiosity tugging at me and reaching for one of the scrolls, when the orc stirred.
I froze.
When I looked up, his body was still slumped in sleep, but his eyes were open. Deep, chocolate brown. Steady. And watching.
"Are you real?" he muttered, low and gravelly, his voice like stone sliding against stone.
"Am I real?" I echoed, the words feeling strange in my mouth. "I suppose I haven't given it much thought. But I am here, wherever here is, and so are you."
He sat up and looked at me, eyes wide, lips parted. In the soft candlelight, the tips of his tusks caught the gleam of gold. A puff of breath stirred the loose strand of hair that had fallen across his face.
"How is this possible?" he asked, voice rough with sleep and disbelief.
"I don’t know," I whispered, and truly, I didn't—not really.
He said nothing, just watched me with awe, the expression softening every line on his face.
I glanced at the scroll closest to me, its ancient text still humming in my mind. "What is this?"
"What?" he asked, blinking.
"This scroll," I said gently. "Why are you reading about the ancient ones?"
His gaze snapped to mine. "You can read that?"
The haze that had clung to him moments ago vanished like the morning mist.
"Yes."
"It's in Godling."
"I know it's in Godling," I said with a smile.
That look of awe returned, slower this time, as if he were beginning to see me.
"What does it say?" he said, tilting his head to the side, his eyes still filled with wonder.
And I read him the first line, letting the words fall off my tongue.
“And before the Great Chasm, the Gods walked among the realm. When magic ran freely, all creatures of the realm shared it. After the Chasm, the magical factionalized into groups. Since this, the Gods have withdrawn, cutting the realm off from the source of their magic.”
His eyes snapped to mine, sharp and electric, like an idea had just dawned. "Can you say it again?"
I repeated the line slowly.
He reached for a quill and a blank sheet, his hands suddenly moving with purpose.
I couldn’t help but stare at this towering orc, all muscles and earth and myth, bent over a scroll with focused precision.
His script was neat, delicate even.
Something about the contrast of the sheer mass of him and the quiet elegance of his writing called to something deep inside of me. Awe. Curiosity. Longing.
But as I watched him, it began to feel as if he was getting farther away. It got colder. I was as if I were becoming closed in, like I was sinking beneath the ice.
I turned back to the scroll, desperate to read him another line. Just one more. Just a few more moments.
But I was already drowning.
I looked back into his deep brown eyes, needing him to see me.
He seemed to tilt his head, raising one eyebrow, his movements stretching out like time had slowed.
And then it all began to fade.
I was sinking.
Again.