Page 101 of Orc's Redemption

RANI

“Is it just me or is it getting a lot hotter?” I ask, following the Al’fa through the tunnels.

“The temperature is increasing,” he says. “The arena’s damage. And the mountain’s blood, I assume.”

We walk side-by-side. Neither of us has mentioned the kiss. Almost as if it didn’t happen, but my lips tingle with the memory. My body yearns for more. So much more, but now is not the time. There may never be time for that. I might die as pure as the day I was born, but if that is what Tajss wills, then so be it. Before I will have time for such things, I need to save my people from extinction.

He leads and I follow. It’s been a long time since I’ve followed anyone, not counting being dragged to the cells by Maulavi, I haven’t followed a man like this since my father passed. I am, after all, the Queen. I do not follow, I lead. Yet I do not deny, at least to myself, that I am following him. Willingly. Or that I am enjoying it.

He leads us into a softly glowing chamber where bioluminescent moss climbs the domed ceiling, casting light over hundreds of raised stone beds bursting with plants.

I blink as my eyes adjust. The air is so thick with moisture it clings to my skin, heavy and sweet, almost stealing my breath. There is a mix of scents that is sweet, but tinged with earth and life. I stare at the greenery stretching out before us. Wide-leafed plants nestled into carved stone beds, a few low fruit trees bearing pale yellow globes, dozens of other plants.

A greenhouse. Underground.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, awestruck.

The Al’fa doesn’t speak. He watches, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes tracking my reaction as if it matters. I wonder if it does and if so, why? Why does he care? Is he feeling this too? This spark that is almost a pull between us?

“Who built this?” I ask, stepping near one of the beds filled with plump root vegetables. My people never came up with anything like this. A single, concentrated farm to grow food. It’s very clever. “This must’ve taken years.”

“It did,” he says finally. “This was my mother’s vision. Before the last surface war.”

That stuns me. I turn and face him fully.

“She wanted to grow food underground?”

“She said the surface would never be safe for us again. Not truly. I don’t think she was wrong.”

I nod slowly, letting my fingertips brush a delicate curling vine.

“So this… is survival.”

“No. This is hope,” he says, his face darkening.

The word hits me low, like a stone thrown into still water. Hope. Not just surviving. Not just hiding. Hope that there is something worth growing for, worth protecting. It’s overwhelming. The beauty. The quiet. The idea that deep under a dying world, something still dares to live. It’s not lost on me the faith he’s putting out showing me this.

“You brought me here to show me this?” I ask quietly. “You trust me with this?”

He nods once. “You deserve to know what we’re fighting to keep. If we’re to lead our peoples, they must see that there’s something more than bloodshed.”

I look at him, startled by the weight in his voice. “You believe we can?”

“Youalready are,” he says, stepping closer.

My breath catches. His presence wraps around me—heat and iron and wildfire. I tilt my face up toward him, heart thudding. He smells of warm sand and something darker, like char. His gaze flickers to my mouth, just once.

I don’t know if it’s me who leans in, or him. But we’re closer. Close enough I see the pulse at his throat. His lips part. His voice is hushed and hoarse when he speaks.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Queen of Ashes?”

“What?” I whisper, barely trusting myself to speak.

“I see the end of the old world. And the beginning of a new one.”

I might kiss him. I want to.

Before I decide, footsteps pound down the corridor—fast, heavy, and urgent.

---