Page 189 of The Orc's Captive Bride
But the orc warriors rose as one, and moved—not toward Thea and the others, but to stand with them. A wall of massive bodies between Lasseran and those he sought to destroy.
They’re protecting us, Thea realized through her haze. Protecting me.
For the first time, something like fear appeared in Lasseran’s eyes.
“Traitors,” he hissed. “All of you. After everything I’ve done for you. Everything I’ve given you.”
“You’ve given us nothing but pain,” Khorrek said from behind her, his voice rough with emotion. “Used us. Twisted us. Made us into weapons instead of people.”
“You are weapons,” Lasseran snarled. “Nothing more. Animals I trained. Beasts I controlled.” He raised his glowing sword. “And if I must put you down myself, so be it.”
He lunged forward with inhuman speed, the blade arcing toward Khorrek.
Thea screamed inside her mind, but no sound escaped her lips. The goddess’s presence flowed around her, still soothing, still reassuring, but Thea fought against it now.
He’ll kill Khorrek! I have to help him!
The goddess didn’t release her control, but she felt a wave of understanding pass through the golden haze.
Trust him,the feeling seemed to say. And complete what you came for.
Distantly, she heard Khorrek shout: “Thea! Whatever you’re going to do—do it now!”
Her body turned away from the fight, moving with graceful purpose toward the altar. Vorlag was at her side, his ancient hand guiding her gently.
“The time has come,” he murmured. “Are you ready, Vessel?”
No, she thought desperately.Not while Khorrek is fighting for his life.
But her head nodded, and she felt her knees bend as she knelt before the altar.
Behind her, she heard the sounds of combat—Khorrek’s roar, the clash of bodies, Lasseran’s taunting voice. More sounds joined them—shouting, the clash of steel on steel. Others fighting.
Please let him be safe. Please let him survive this.
The golden haze thickened around her, focusing her attention on the altar before her.
It was a massive block of white stone, carved with runes that glowed faintly blue in the moonlight. Four tall silver pillars surrounded it, connected by chains of what looked like liquid darkness.
His corruption, the knowledge came to her. The High King’s perversion of what should be sacred.
Her hands—moving without her conscious direction—reached for the small bowl Vorlag placed before her. It contained a thick, dark liquid.
Blood, she realized. But whose?
“Freely given,” Vorlag said, as if hearing her unspoken question. “From those who would see balance restored.”
Her fingers dipped into the blood, and she felt herself begin to chant—words in no language she recognized, syllables that seemed to bend reality around them.
The Blood Moon reached its zenith, casting the entire balcony in crimson light.
It was time.
“First step,” Vorlag murmured. “Blood.”
Thea’s blood-coated fingers traced a symbol on the altar’s surface. The rune flared crimson, then gold, then settled into a steady, pulsing glow.
Behind her, the sounds of combat continued. A cry of pain—not Khorrek’s voice, she was certain—followed by Lasseran’s furious snarl.
