Page 64 of Till Orc Do Us Part
“For a long time,” he says quietly, “I cared only for the fight. For building what others said I could not.”
I watch him, pulse thrumming.
“And now?”
He exhales. “Now… becauseyoudo.”
The words land hard—simple, unflinching.
I shake my head. “That’s not?—”
“It is truth,” he says. “And I owe you that.”
I stare at him. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
The tide surges and falls, its rhythm echoing the tight drum of my heart.
He steps closer, gaze steady.
“There is more,” he says softly. “If you wish to hear it.”
I hesitate.
Then nod.
We sit on a low driftwood log, damp and cold beneath us.
Drokhaz rests his elbows on his knees, fingers laced.
“I had a brother,” he says. “Older by two years. Smarter. Fiercer. The one who taught me how to fight. How to see beyond orders.”
His voice is low, roughened by memory.
“We fought in the last war. Side by side. When the treaties came, we were among those tasked with enforcing the new peace.”
He falls silent a moment.
“Not everyone wanted peace.”
I swallow hard.
“There was a raid,” he continues. “A town caught between two factions. My brother chose to shield the innocents. He saved them. But not himself.”
I can’t breathe.
“I buried him beneath a twisted oak,” Drokhaz says. “Then built a life of stone and steel. To climb. To make certain no one could take from me again.”
His voice softens.
“But power… is not the same as purpose.”
I reach out before I can stop myself—fingers brushing his arm.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He meets my gaze. “So am I.”
