Kael's POV
I wake to the smell of herbs and blood.
My eyes snap open. I'm in a tent, lying on a bedroll. My side screams with pain where the arrow went through. Someone has bandaged it—crude work, but it stopped the bleeding.
"You're awake." Draeka's voice makes me turn my head.
The orc woman sits across the tent, her broken leg splinted with wood and cloth. Even injured, she looks dangerous. Her amber eyes watch me like a predator deciding whether to eat or ignore prey.
"Where are we?" My throat is dry as sand.
"Rebel camp. Three miles from the mine." She shifts, wincing. "Your Commander Lyria brought us here after the tunnel collapsed. That was two days ago."
Two days? I try to sit up and immediately regret it. Pain explodes through my side.
"Don't move, idiot." Draeka tosses me a waterskin. "The arrow missed your organs, but you lost a lot of blood. Pip—your halfling friend—says you need rest."
I drink, then study her. "Why are you still here? Your people must be looking for you."
"They are." Her jaw tightens. "But your rebellion convinced me to stay. They want to use your father's evidence to expose the Sanctum. They need someone from the orc clans to verify it's true." She meets my eyes. "They need me to stand before the human leaders and tell them we're not monsters."
"You'll do it?"
"Do I have a choice?" She laughs bitterly. "My people are being slaughtered. If this evidence can stop the genocide, I'll swallow my pride and work with humans." The way she says "humans" makes it sound like a curse.
"You hate us," I say quietly.
"Wouldn't you?" Draeka leans forward. "Imagine if orcs invaded human lands, burned your villages, murdered your children, then called YOU the savages for defending yourselves. How would you feel?"
I think of Father's execution. Of Mother's poison. Of everything I've lost.
"I'd want revenge," I admit.
"Exactly." Draeka nods. "But revenge won't bring back my three brothers. Won't heal my people's wounds. So instead, I'm stuck in a tent with the son of the only human who ever treated us with respect, hoping his evidence can save us all." She pauses. "Your father was a good man, Kael Thornhaven."
Something in my chest breaks. "He died trying to prove your people were innocent."
"I know." Her voice softens slightly. "That's why I haven't killed you yet."
Before I can respond, the tent flap opens. Commander Lyria enters, followed by Sylvara the elf and a dwarf I recognize from my fever dream—Thrain Ironfoot, the weapons master.
"You're awake. Good." Lyria pulls up a stool. "We need to talk about the evidence."
"What about it?" I ask.
Thrain spreads documents across the floor—the ones from Father's cache. "These prove the false flag attacks. Show the Sanctum paid bandits. Detail the Aetherium mining plans." He taps one paper. "But there's a problem."
"What problem?"
"They're not enough." Sylvara's voice is musical but cold. "Brother Aldric was buried in that mine collapse, yes. But he was just one man. The conspiracy involves dozens of Sanctum officials, military leaders, even members of the Principality's ruling council."
My heart sinks. "So Father died for nothing?"
"No." Lyria shakes her head. "But these documents only prove Aldric's guilt. To expose the whole conspiracy, we need the other evidence caches your father hid. Especially the third location."
I think of Father's coded message. Three locations. The trading post was destroyed. The mine gave us partial proof. But the third location...
"I don't know where it is," I admit. "Father's note said 'where silver flows underground,' which was the mine. But the third location was just coded phrases I couldn't decipher."
"Let me see the note," Sylvara says.
I pull Father's testimony from my pocket—crumpled, blood-stained, but readable. Sylvara studies it with her ancient eyes.
"'Where truth speaks to power,'" she reads aloud. "That's the third location. Do you know what it means?"
I rack my brain. Father's words. His lessons. Places we visited together...
Then it hits me. "The Summit Hall. In the capital city of Ardenfell."
Everyone stares at me.
"The Summit Hall is where the Council of Races meets," I explain. "Father took me there once when I was twelve. He said, 'This is where truth speaks to power, son. Where different peoples come together to solve problems without war.' He must have hidden evidence there—somewhere in the building."
Lyria and Sylvara exchange looks.
"That's perfect," Thrain mutters. "The most heavily guarded building in the Principality. Wonderful."
"It's also where the emergency Council meeting is happening in five days," Sylvara says. "All race leaders gathering to discuss the war. If we could present evidence there—"
"We'd expose the conspiracy in front of everyone who matters," Lyria finishes. "But getting in will be nearly impossible. Security will be extreme."
"I can get in," Draeka says suddenly.
Everyone turns to her.
"I'm Chief Urgoth's daughter. Daughter of an orc leader killed in this war." She struggles to her feet, leaning on a makeshift crutch. "I have the right to speak at the Council. To testify about what's been done to my people."
"They'll never let an orc into the capital," Thrain objects.
"They will if she's under official diplomatic protection." Sylvara's eyes gleam. "The elven delegation can sponsor her. Once inside, she can testify while we search for the evidence."
"And me?" I ask. "What's my role?"
Lyria looks at me gravely. "You're the only one who knows what your father's hiding place looks like. You'll have to come too."
"Impossible," Thrain says. "The boy's wanted for desertion and conspiracy. The moment he shows his face in the capital, Sanctum guards will arrest him."
"Then we disguise him." Sylvara studies me. "Elven magic can alter appearance temporarily. Make him look older, different. He'd pass as a servant in our delegation."
"This is insane," Jonas's voice makes me turn.
He and Pip stand in the tent entrance. Pip's shoulder is bandaged but healing. Jonas looks exhausted.
"You're going to walk into the most dangerous city in the Principality," Jonas continues, "surrounded by people who want you dead, to find evidence hidden five years ago that might not even still exist?"
"Yes," I say simply.
Jonas shakes his head. "Then we're coming too."
"Absolutely not—" Lyria starts.
"We're already deserters," Pip interrupts quietly. "Already dead men if we're caught. Might as well die doing something that matters."
I want to argue. Want to tell them to stay safe.
But the truth is, I need them. Need Jonas's street smarts and Pip's medical skills. Need people I trust in a city full of enemies.
"Fine," Lyria says reluctantly. "But you follow my orders exactly. One mistake and we all die."
Over the next hour, we plan. Sylvara will use magic to disguise us. We'll travel with the elven delegation as servants. Once inside the Summit Hall, Draeka will distract the Council with her testimony while we search for Father's evidence.
Simple. Impossible. Our only chance.
As everyone files out to prepare, Draeka stops beside me.
"Your friends are loyal," she observes. "Rare thing in war."
"I'm lucky," I admit.
"Or cursed." She meets my eyes. "Everyone close to you seems to die, Thornhaven. Your father. Your brothers. Your mother. How many more will you lose before this ends?"
The words are cruel but not wrong.
"However many it takes," I say quietly. "To stop this war. To save your people and mine."
Draeka studies me for a long moment. Then, surprisingly, she nods. "Maybe you're more like your father than I thought."
She limps out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and pain.
That night, I can't sleep. The arrow wound throbs. My mind races with plans and fears.
I slip out of the tent for air. The rebel camp is quiet—fifty people hidden in the forest, all risking their lives to stop a genocide.
I wander to the edge of camp where captured Sanctum supplies are stored. The rebels took them from the mine before it collapsed.
Curious, I dig through the crates.
What I find makes my blood run cold.
Maps showing planned attacks on orc villages—civilians, not warriors. Orders to "eliminate breeding age females to prevent population recovery." Letters discussing Aetherium mining profits, casually mentioning "acceptable native casualties" in the thousands.
This isn't just a war. It's planned extermination.
I'm reading a letter describing "child removal operations" when a hand grabs my shoulder.
I spin around. Commander Lyria stands there, her face unreadable.
"You weren't supposed to see those," she says quietly.
"Why not?" My voice shakes. "People need to know how bad this is!"
"Because if people knew the full scope, they'd lose hope." Lyria takes the letters from my hands. "The conspiracy isn't just about Aetherium. It's about expanding human territory by any means necessary. Making room for our growing population by clearing out 'inferior races.'"
I feel sick. "How long have you known?"
"Months. I've been gathering evidence, working with the rebellion." She looks at me with something like pity. "Your father wasn't the first to discover the truth. He was just the first who couldn't be quietly disappeared because he was nobility. They had to make an example of him."
"So there are others? Other people trying to stop this?"
"A few. Not enough." Lyria puts the letters back in the crate. "That's why the Summit is so important. If we can expose this there, in front of all race leaders, maybe we can turn the tide."
"And if we fail?"
"Then genocide continues, and in fifty years, orcs will be extinct. Dwarves next. Then elves. Until humans rule alone." She meets my eyes. "That's what's at stake, Kael. Not just stopping a war. Stopping the extinction of entire peoples."
The weight of it crushes me.
"I'm just a kid," I whisper. "How am I supposed to—"
"Your father was just a border lord. He still tried." Lyria squeezes my shoulder. "Now get some rest. We leave for the capital at dawn."
She walks away, leaving me standing in the darkness with the weight of genocide on my shoulders.
I'm about to return to my tent when I hear voices—angry whispers from the forest.
I creep closer and peer through the trees.
Draeka is arguing with two orc warriors—scouts from her clan. They're demanding she return home.
"I won't abandon this mission," Draeka hisses. "The human's evidence can save us!"
"Or it's a trap!" one warrior argues. "How do you know the boy isn't leading you into an ambush? His kind has killed hundreds of our people!"
"His father died trying to protect us!" Draeka snaps.
"And look how well that worked out." The warrior grabs her arm. "The chief—your father—is dead. Your brothers are dead. You're the only heir left. If you die in the human capital, our bloodline ends. The clan needs you home, Draeka. Not playing hero with the enemy."
Draeka goes very still. When she speaks, her voice is cold. "If I go home without stopping this war, there won't be a clan to inherit. We're being exterminated. This is our last chance."
"Then you're a fool." The warrior releases her roughly. "Don't say we didn't warn you when the humans betray you."
The warriors vanish into the forest.
Draeka stands alone, shaking—with rage or grief, I can't tell.
I'm about to reveal myself when she speaks without turning around.
"I know you're there, Thornhaven. Stop hiding."
I step out. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop—"
"Yes, you did." She turns, and I see tears on her face—the first crack in her warrior mask. "They're right, you know. I'm gambling my life, my clan's future, on trusting humans. On trusting you."
"I won't betray you," I promise.
"That's what your father said to my father before they both died." She wipes her eyes roughly. "But I'm out of options. So I'll trust you, Kael Thornhaven. One last time."
She limps past me toward camp.
I'm about to follow when I notice something.
One of the orc warriors dropped a piece of paper. I pick it up.
It's a message, written in orcish. I can only read a few words, but they're enough to freeze my blood:
"...human spy in rebel camp... will signal when to attack... kill them all during Summit journey..."
There's a traitor. Among the rebels.
Someone's going to betray us to the Sanctum before we reach the capital.
And I have no idea who.