Page 125 of Orc's Redemption

My people. Our people.

The tunnel heaves. I slam against the wall. Pain explodes in my shoulder as I fight to stay upright.Cracks race across the wall, the floor. Steam hisses from the depths. The lava is closer. Too close.

“Faster!” the Al’fa growls.

“We’re nearly there,” Janara pants. He points ahead. “That tunnel, it leads to your compound!”

A child screams as somewhere behind us another part of the tunnel collapses. A wall of rubble seals off the route we just passed through. I don’t know how many people were back there.

Grief bites, sharp and fast, but I shove it down. I can’t mourn, not yet.

We reach the tunnel. A dozen Zmaj warriors hold the passage, keeping it open by removing rubble and debris while injured civilians pour past. The heat is unbearable. My throat is raw from breathing smoke. I shove Khiara forward. He surges up two steps at a time, the child still cradled in his arms.

I follow, my legs burning. Every movement is painful, but I won’t stop. We burst through the last archway into the open air.

The Zmaj compound sprawls ahead of us, the great domed ceiling groaning and cracking. Dust and smoke hang in the air. People are running, shouting, but not in chaos. They’re organizing. Packing supplies, loading carts. Lifting children into arms. Medics are tending the wounded.

I slow for a breath, dragging my fingers along the wall. We’ve made it, but only barely, and the shaking ground makes it clear that this isn’t over. The Al’fa crashes up behind me, chest heaving, eyes scanning with suspicion. His dislike is palpable, it radiates off of him. I’m certain that the exodus we’re witnessing was not his plan.

He growls then barks something so fast in Zmaj that I don’t catch it, but the guards around him do. They jump and run. He strides off, but I catch his arm.

“What is wrong?” I ask.

He pauses, his gaze shifting to mine and softening if only for an instant. His tail slaps the rumbling ground, smacking loudly. He shakes his head then glances around. Surveying the humans leading the evacuation.

“This!” he yells, sweeping one arm to take it all in.

As if in answer, the ground shakes so hard I’m thrown forward. He catches me in his arms, his wings snapping open to keep us both upright. I look up, our eyes locking, our lips so close…

“Al’fa!” someone yells and he lets me go, but before his hands leave my arms he makes sure I’m steady on my feet.

“Report,” he barks, spinning to the voice.

“Did you order this?” a Zmaj I do not know asks.

Dust falls from the ceiling. The sound of a cave collapsing echoes from somewhere close. The Al’fa looks around and then back to me. I nod, both understanding and unspoken agreement.

“Keep it moving,” the Al’fa barks. “The mountain is rejecting us.”

The Zmaj blinks, stunned—then nods, spins, and bolts. The Al’fa looks at me again and I see the conflict in him clearly warring on his face. He growls something but it’s drowned out by another quake.

He strides off and I follow. Everywhere, people carry crates, load carts, and help others move in ragged but determined lines. When we reach the floor of the arena I see her.

Rosalind is on the balcony normally reserved for the Alfa. She’s surrounded by humans as she barks clipped orders. Her mate, Visidion, looms beside her, hooded, armored, and watching everything. Around them, a hive of activity swarms with quiet precision.

“Evacuation’s already begun,” Khiara murmurs, setting the child down carefully.

I nod, stunned. I saw it below, but I had no idea how far ahead she had planned. Rosalind was thinking much further ahead than either the Al’fa or I.

While we fought, bled, and marched, she set all this in motion. Packed supplies, mapped routes, gotten both medics and engineers positioned. Even Zmaj, albeit grudgingly, assist in carrying out her orders. It’s not a mad dash for survival. It’s a coordinated retreat.

“This wasn’t planned or agreed to,” the Al’fa growls, voice like grinding stone, as he comes to a stop below the balcony.

Rosalind turns. Her eyes meet his. Everything stills. The moment teeters like a blade on its edge.Rosalind squares her shoulders.

“We didn’t have time to wait for a vote.”

The Al’fa steps forward, his wings flaring slightly, eyes glowing with fury.

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