Page 186 of The Orc's Captive Bride
The tunnels gradually widened, the rough walls giving way to smoother stone. They were nearing the upper levels of the city.
“Almost there,” Thea whispered, her voice once again a strange blend of herself and something older.
Around one final turn, and suddenly they emerged into a small, circular chamber. Seven doorways led from it—all identical, all closed.
Thea walked directly to the third from the left, placed her palm against it, and pushed.
It swung open silently, revealing a dimly lit corridor lined with tapestries.
They were inside the Veilborn temple.
“This way,” she murmured, leading them down the corridor.
Khorrek moved close behind her, protective despite knowing that whatever guarded her now was far more powerful than he could ever be.
The corridor opened into a larger chamber. Circular, like the one below, but vastly more elaborate. Massive columns supported a domed ceiling painted with constellations. Braziers burned with sweet-smelling incense. And in the center…
Vorlag waited, surrounded by a dozen Veilborn priests in hooded black robes.
As one, they sank to their knees as Thea entered.
“The Vessel comes,” Vorlag intoned, his voice carrying in the hushed chamber. “As foretold.”
Thea stepped forward, the golden aura around her brightening.
“It is time,” she said—yet not her. Not entirely.
“Yes.” Vorlag rose, motioning for the other priests to stand as well. “The altar is prepared. Lasseran believes it serves his purpose. He does not know it will be his undoing.”
He moved to Thea’s side, fighting the urge to snatch her away, to run, to protect her from whatever was about to happen.
“What exactly is going to happen?” he demanded.
Vorlag’s ancient eyes settled on him with unexpected compassion.
“Balance will be restored. The curse that became a blessing will be cleansed. Lasseran’s power will be broken.”
“At what cost?” His voice came out harsh and desperate. “What will happen to her?”
For a moment, Vorlag didn’t answer. Then, softly: “I do not know. The prophecy does not say.”
Doesn’t say, or you won’t tell me?he wanted to roar, but before he could demand an answer, Thea turned to him. Her eyes—her beautiful, intelligent eyes—were the same clear grey, but now flecked with gold.
“I’ll be all right,” she said, and it was her voice now. Just her voice. “I promise.”
He searched her face, looking for fear, for doubt, for any sign that she wanted him to stop this madness.
He found only calm certainty.
“I don’t like this,” he growled.
“I know.” She reached up, touched his face. Her hand was warm—warmer than it should be, as if she burned with inner fire. “But it’s necessary. Trust me.”
Always. With everything I am. Even if it destroys me.
He nodded once, sharply.
“The moon rises,” Vorlag announced. “We must go.”
