Page 174 of The Orc's Captive Bride
“Why?”
Lyric exchanged a glance with Jaella, some silent communication he couldn’t decipher.
“Because the ritual requires sacrifice. And she chose to be the one to make it.”
Sacrifice. The word seemed to vibrate in his head.
“What kind of sacrifice?” Each word had to be forced past the growing horror.
“We don’t know exactly. The Old Gods?—”
“The gods?” he snarled, “She’s facing gods alone and you let her go?”
“It wasn’t our choice to make.” Jaella’s voice was maddeningly calm. “It was hers. Freely given. Willingly chosen.”
“The hell with that.”
He turned toward the Stone Circle and broke into a run. Lyric called out behind him.
“Khorrek, wait! You can’t interfere! If you disrupt the ritual?—”
He didn’t listen. Didn’t care.
She’s mine. My mate. My responsibility to protect.
His Beast agreed wholeheartedly, pushing him faster, harder.
The circle materialized through the pre-dawn darkness, the massive stones rising like silent sentinels. But something was wrong.
Mist surrounded the circle, thick and impenetrable. Unnatural.
Magic. Divine power. Things I don’t understand and can’t fight.
He didn’t slow, plunging directly into the mist. Icy cold slapped him in the face, stealing his breath and freezing his lungs.
But worse was the disorientation. The world had disappeared, everything swallowed by blank whiteness. No up. No down. No direction at all.
“Thea!” His roar was swallowed by the mist. Muffled. Impotent.
He stumbled forward with his arms outstretched, searching.
She’s here. Somewhere. I just need to find her.
The mate bond thrummed in his chest. Steady. Alive.
She’s still breathing. She still exists. Not gone. Not yet.
He focused on that connection and used it as a compass. There. That direction.I think.He moved forward, one careful step after another. The mist pressed against him, heavy and oppressive. Time lost all meaning. Minutes felt like hours. Or maybe it was the reverse.
How long have I been searching? How long since she entered? How much time do I have left?
No answers, just the endless white emptiness.
“Thea!” He called again and again, his voice growing hoarse.
The mate bond pulsed, stronger when he moved in certain directions and weaker in others. A game of hot and cold with her life as the prize. He pressed forward. Relentless.
His outstretched arm struck something hard and unyielding. Stone. He traced it with his hands. Rough. Carved. One of the circle’s monoliths.
