Chapter Forty-One #2
Thousands of orcs stretched across the valley below like a slow, relentless tide, their broad shoulders and heavy strides making the earth tremble beneath them.
Their skin ranged from deep mossy greens to weathered gray, and their armor, if you could call it that, was patched together from leather, bone, scavenged metal, and pieces of things I couldn’t identify.
Some carried massive axes slung over their backs. Others held clubs that looked like uprooted trees. Many wore braided cords and talismans, crude but purposeful, and their eyes glinted like stones in riverbeds.
Mondo boar moved among them. Their bodies were enormous and stubborn, carrying crates and bundles lashed to their sides, their tusks curved and gleaming. The boars snorted clouds of white breath into the cold air, and the orcs patted their flanks as if these hulking beasts were as normal as horses.
I hadn’t imagined this.
I knew the map showed thousands. I’d repeated the word in my head like a mantra, trying to make it less intimidating.
But standing here, looking down at them, feeling the ground shake with every step they took, I realized numbers on a glowing map didn’t carry the same weight as living bodies moving with purpose.
The warmth on my hip flared.
My birthmark burned, sharper now. It wasn’t a warning of danger from ahead but a signal that I was being watched again, as if the Priestess had leaned in closer to savor this moment.
I pressed my hand to my side, forcing my breath to stay steady. Panic wanted to rise, to flood my throat and make me freeze, but I couldn’t afford that, not now.
And certainly not with the orcs so close and with everyone watching me for what we did next.
So, I turned the panic into motion.
“Slow,” I said quietly, my voice carrying just enough. “We don’t rush. We don’t charge. We don’t look like we’re closing in.”
Keegan nodded immediately, shifting his stance to mirror mine, grounding without taking over.
Caleb gave a sharp hand signal, and the shifters fanned wider, making our presence visible but not aggressive.
The vampires behind us flowed into stillness, their movements elegant and controlled, their faces calm even as their eyes tracked the orc tide below.
Nova’s fingers tightened on her staff.
“Maeve,” she murmured, voice barely audible. “Something’s off.”
I followed her gaze.
The orcs weren’t just marching.
They were tense.
I didn’t see chaos or panic. But I saw them bracing, heads turning often, shoulders hunching, hands tightening on weapons as if they expected something.
As if they were already afraid.
And then the sky moved.
A shape dropped from above, fast and dark, cutting through the thin light like a thrown blade. Another followed and another.
My stomach dropped as the first one struck the ground in the valley, not far ahead of the orc line. It wasn’t a bird. It wasn’t a bat. It was something too large, too wrong, its body a slick tangle of shadow and bone, wings snapping open with a wet, leathery sound.
The orcs halted.
A roar rose through the mass. It wasn’t a battle cry, but a startled, furious sound, and orcs lifted their weapons as the shadow creature unfurled itself taller. Its head twisted as if sniffing the air.
But it turned, too quickly and too deliberately, as if asking us where to go.
My blood went cold.
“No,” I breathed.
Another shadow beast followed, then two more.
As if the real goal was elsewhere.
As if the real goal was to make sure the orcs saw us as the threat.
“She’s staging it,” Nova said, her voice sharp with realization. “She’s making it look like we’re attacking.”
Stella let out a low curse that sounded older than language. “That manipulative—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Twobble cut in, eyes wide, then added as if offended, “I was going to.”
Skonk’s hand went to the hilt of a blade I hadn’t even realized he carried.
Caleb’s posture went rigid, his jaw tightening. “If the orcs think we sent those—”
“They’ll strike first,” Keegan finished grimly.
My birthmark burned again, hot and insistent, and for a heartbeat I felt like I could hear her—not in words, but in intention.
See how quickly trust turns.
I forced myself to move.
“Hold,” I called, louder now. “No one attacks unless they have to.”
Keegan’s gaze flicked to me, then to the incoming creatures. “Maeve—”
“I know,” I said through clenched teeth. “But if we start swinging, she wins.”
The first shadow beast screeched as it closed the distance, its wings beating air that smelled faintly of damp stone and extinguished flame. It dove, not at them directly, but low enough that it would look like we’d provoked it if we reacted.
I lifted my hands, drawing magic into my palms, not as a weapon but as a shield. The Maple Ward’s warmth flickered through me, connection, growth, and beginnings, and moved into something steadier.
The Academy’s lessons hummed at the edges of my mind.
Protect. Don’t provoke.
Prove intent with action.
The creature’s shadowy form twisted, claws reaching.
Behind it, the orcs roared again.
And in that moment, I understood exactly what the Priestess was doing.
She wasn’t trying to kill us.
Not yet.
She was trying to poison the first meeting.
Trying to turn thousands of frightened, displaced orcs into enemies before I could speak a single word.
And as the beast lunged and the ground shook beneath the orcs’ halted line, I knew we were out of time for careful choices.
We were at the edge of the moment where perception became truth.