ASHARA POV
The arrow missed my head by inches.
I spun around, my hand already reaching for my blade, and saw my little brother Torak grinning like an idiot.
"Too slow, Ash!" He lowered his practice bow. "If I was a real enemy, you'd be dead."
"If you were a real enemy, I'd have heard you coming." I grabbed the arrow from where it stuck in the tree behind me. "You breathe like a wounded buffalo."
Torak's grin faded. "I was being quiet!"
"Quiet enough to wake the entire valley." I tossed the arrow back to him. "Again. And this time, watch your footing. You're crushing every twig between here and the village."
He was only fourteen, still learning to hunt properly. But he tried so hard, always wanting to prove he was strong enough, brave enough, good enough to be a real warrior.
Just like I'd been at his age.
"Why do I need to be so quiet anyway?" Torak asked, notching another arrow. "Father says the humans signed a peace treaty. We're safe now."
"Treaties are just words on paper." I checked the position of the sun—almost dawn. My guard shift started soon. "Words break easier than bones. Never forget that."
"You worry too much. The humans haven't—"
The warning horn blasted across the valley.
My blood turned to ice.
That horn only sounded for one thing. Attack.
"Run!" I shoved Torak toward the village. "Get to the shelter caves! Now!"
"But what about—"
"NOW!"
He ran. Thank the spirits, he finally listened and ran.
I sprinted toward the eastern edge where I was supposed to be on guard. My heart hammered against my ribs. This couldn't be happening. We had a treaty. The humans promised peace.
Then I crested the hill and saw them.
Hundreds of human soldiers pouring into our valley like ants. Their armor caught the dawn light. Their swords were already red.
They'd attacked while most of the village still slept.
Screaming erupted from below. Not war cries. Terror. Pain. The sounds of people dying in their homes.
I charged down the hillside, my blade singing as I drew it. A human soldier turned toward me, his face hidden behind a helmet. He raised his sword.
I was faster.
My blade caught him across the throat. He fell, choking. I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
Two more soldiers appeared. I ducked under one's swing, slashed the second across the leg, then finished the first as he stumbled past me.
Three down. Hundreds to go.
Our village burned. Homes that took years to build went up like dry grass. Old Mora's healing hut—gone. The children's school—flames pouring from the windows.
And the bodies.
So many bodies.
"Ashara!" My father's voice cut through the chaos. He fought near the center of the village, his great axe swinging. Blood covered his gray skin. "Get the children to the caves!"
I ran toward the village center, cutting down any human who got in my way. My arms burned. My lungs screamed. But I couldn't stop.
A group of children huddled near the well, frozen with fear. I recognized Mika, only six years old, crying for her mother.
"Follow me!" I grabbed Mika's hand. "Run and don't look back!"
We made it ten steps before soldiers blocked our path.
"Well, well." One of them pulled off his helmet. He looked young, maybe twenty, with brown hair and cold eyes. "More animals for the slaughter."
"Run!" I pushed the children behind me and raised my blade. "I said RUN!"
They scattered. The soldier lunged at me. I parried, twisted, and drove my blade through his chest.
But there were too many. Always too many.
A sword caught my shoulder. Pain exploded down my arm. I spun and killed that soldier too, but another replaced him immediately.
Then I heard it.
"Ash! Help!"
Torak's voice.
My baby brother.
I turned and my heart shattered.
Torak fought desperately against a huge knight in golden armor. My brother's movements were clumsy, panicked. He'd never killed anyone before. Didn't know how.
The knight batted Torak's blade aside like it was nothing.
"NO!" I screamed, running.
Too far. I was too far away.
The knight's sword punched through Torak's chest.
My brother's eyes went wide. Confused. Like he didn't understand what just happened.
Then he fell.
Something broke inside me. Something that had kept me human, kept me sane.
I didn't feel the wounds anymore. Didn't feel fear. Only rage.
Pure, burning rage.
I crashed into the golden knight like a storm. My blade moved faster than thought. He blocked, barely, his eyes widening in surprise.
"You killed him!" I screamed. "He was just a boy!"
"He was an orc." The knight's voice was calm. Casual. Like he'd just stepped on a bug. "They all have to die."
I attacked with everything I had. Every technique Father taught me. Every dirty trick I'd learned in twenty-four years of fighting.
The knight was good. Better than good.
But I was faster.
My blade found the gap in his armor, sliced across his leg. He stumbled. I raised my sword for the killing blow—
Pain exploded in my back.
I looked down, confused. A sword tip poked through my stomach, red with my blood.
Someone had stabbed me from behind.
The blade pulled out. I fell to my knees, suddenly cold.
Around me, the battle continued. More of my people dying. The humans burning everything, killing everyone.
And Torak lay three feet away, his eyes still open, staring at nothing.
"Finish her," someone said above me.
Boots appeared in my fading vision. A soldier raised his sword.
This was it. This was how I died.
But before the blade fell, a different voice shouted: "Wait! Commander Voss wants prisoners for questioning! Grab this one—she's still breathing!"
Hands grabbed me. Rough. Painful.
They dragged me away from Torak's body. Away from my burning home.
Everything went dark, but I held onto consciousness by a thread.
I had to survive. Had to live long enough to make them pay.
Every. Single. One.
The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was a soldier laughing.
"Did you see the look on that young orc's face? Like he couldn't believe we'd actually kill him!"
More laughter.
They thought this was funny. Thought murdering children was entertainment.
In the darkness, I made a promise to Torak's spirit.
I would survive this. I would escape.
And I would teach the humans what real monsters looked like.
Then I heard something that made my blood freeze even in unconsciousness.
A new voice. Young. Uncertain. Speaking in human tongue but with an accent I recognized.
"Sir Davos? Why... why are we killing the children? The Commander said orcs were attacking us, but this village was just... living here. They weren't attacking anyone."
A pause. Then the older soldier's response, cold and final.
"Stop asking questions, boy. And grab that wounded female—she's still breathing. Commander Voss will want to interrogate this one personally before we execute her."
Footsteps approached my broken body.
The last thought I had before darkness swallowed me completely: one of them had hesitated. One human soldier had questioned the slaughter.
Maybe, just maybe, not all of them were monsters.
Or maybe that was just the blood loss making me stupid.