The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine. I stood at the edge of the village, debating whether to try another experiment with my mana or head back to the forge to tweak the vent system I’d suggested the day before. The sound of a staff striking the ground behind me ended the debate.
“You meddle with things you do not understand, human.”
I turned to find Shorga standing there, her wiry frame tense and her amber eyes sharp as blades. Her staff, adorned with its usual array of bones and feathers, tapped rhythmically against the dirt as she closed the distance between us.
“Good morning to you too,” I said lightly, her gaze intensified, prompting me to give her a smile. “Something on your mind?”
She stopped a few feet away, her posture radiating authority. “Your power. Where does it come from?”
I hesitated. Explaining something I barely understood myself wasn’t exactly easy. “Honestly? I’m still figuring that out. It feels like it’s... part of me. Like an extension of my will.”
Shorga’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Mana is not a toy for experiments. It is the lifeblood of this world, tied to its balance. What you call ‘figuring it out’ could have consequences beyond your understanding.”
I crossed my arms, keeping my tone respectful despite the edge in her voice. “You speak to me as if I were a child? My experiments have so far proved helpful.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Help? You healed Tor’uk, yes, but what if your methods had poisoned him further? What if your strange power draws the attention of those who seek to harm us?”
Standing straighter, and replying “Your fear is clouding your judgment. I do not think-“
“No,” she interrupted, her tone cutting. “You did not think. You act as though mana is yours to command, but it is not. It is a gift. And gifts demand respect.”
I bit back a defensive retort, instead taking a steadying breath. “Look, I get that you don’t trust me. I get that I’m... different. But I’m not here to hurt anyone”
Shorga’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “Good intentions mean little without understanding, traveler. You wield mana as a child wields a blade—carelessly, recklessly. If you are to stay among us, you must learn control.”
I look the aged shaman in her eyes, and in a mature tone “Shorga. Do you know how I wield mana? How about we sit down like adults and have a conversation”
Shorga’s eyes narrowed, the weight of her staff pressing deeper into the dirt as she leaned on it, studying me as if searching for a hidden truth. Her initial tension didn’t ease, but something flickered across her expression—curiosity, perhaps, or the faintest trace of respect.
“You think conversation can temper recklessness?” she said, her voice quieter but no less sharp. “Words are easy, traveler. Control is not.”
Shorga hesitated, as if weighing whether the log—or I—was worthy of her presence. Then, with a deliberate motion, she settled onto the seat, her staff planted firmly by her side. I sat across from her on a moss-covered rock, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the clearing.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The forest around us seemed to breathe with life—the rustling leaves, the chirping of unseen birds, the soft creak of ancient wood.
Finally, Shorga broke the silence. “You say this power feels like an extension of your will. Explain.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, choosing my words carefully. “It’s... hard to describe. When I absorb a wisp, I feel a power flood my body, it feels like a river, a flow of power I can control at will”
Shorga leaned forward, her eyes glinting like molten gold. “And what do you know of their purpose? Their role in the weave of mana that sustains us all? You think because they come to you willingly, there is no cost?”
I tilted my head, meeting her intense gaze without flinching. “And do you know their purpose?” I asked evenly. “Try communing with them. See if you can call one to you. Try absorbing one, and tell me what you find.”
Her eyes narrowed, the challenge in my words clearly stoking her pride. For a moment, I thought she might dismiss me outright, but instead, she straightened, gripping her staff tightly. “You presume much, human,” she said, her voice low and deliberate. “The wisps do not answer to every call.”
I shrugged. “Maybe not. But if I’m wrong, then it won’t matter. And if I’m right...” I left the thought unfinished, letting the silence hang between us like the space between two drawn blades.
Shorga regarded me with a mixture of irritation and curiosity before turning her attention to the forest around us. Her sharp eyes scanned the air, seeking the faint, floating lights that I’d grown used to spotting. Slowly, she raised her staff, the feathers and bones dangling from it swaying gently in the breeze.
“Very well,” she said, her tone begrudging. “Let us see if your arrogance holds any truth.”
She closed her eyes, her grip on the staff tightening as she muttered words in a language I didn’t understand. The air around her seemed to still, the faint sounds of the forest fading as a subtle vibration hummed beneath the surface. A few moments passed, and then—softly, hesitantly—a single wisp drifted into view.
Its glow was faint, a pale blue that pulsed gently like a heartbeat. Shorga opened her eyes and stared at it, her expression a mix of wonder and wariness. Slowly, she extended her hand toward the wisp, her fingers trembling slightly.
“Call it to you,” I said quietly, not wanting to break her concentration. “Let it come.”
The wisp hovered closer, circling her hand like a curious bird. Shorga’s lips moved silently, her intent clear as she reached out with her will. But as her hand drew closer, the wisp faltered, its light dimming. Then, with a sudden jerk, it retreated, darting out of her reach and disappearing into the forest like a frightened animal.
Shorga froze, her arm still outstretched, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she lowered her hand, her sharp features tightening with a mix of frustration and something that looked like shame.
I watched her carefully, resisting the urge to make a sarcastic comment. Instead, I spoke softly, my tone neutral. “It didn’t respond.”
She turned on me, her amber eyes blazing. “I can see that.”
“It’s not about forcing them,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “They choose.”
Shorga’s grip on her staff tightened, her knuckles turning white. “Do not lecture me on mana, human,” she hissed. “I have communed with forces far older and deeper than you can imagine.”
“I’m not questioning your knowledge,” I said evenly. “But this... this might be something different. Something neither of us fully understands.”
She stared at me for a long moment, the tension between us thick enough to cut. Then, with a sharp exhale, she turned her back on me, her voice low and cutting. “You tread dangerous ground, traveler. Do not let your arrogance blind you.”
“I could say the same to you,” I replied, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
She paused, her shoulders stiff, but didn’t respond. Without another word, she strode away, her staff tapping rhythmically against the earth as she disappeared into the shadows of the forest.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, the encounter leaving me unsettled. The wisp’s rejection hadn’t just been about Shorga—it was about something deeper.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
As Shorga turned to leave, her staff striking the ground in deliberate, measured beats, I stepped forward, calling out gently, “Shorga, wait.”
She paused, her shoulders stiffening. Slowly, she turned, her amber eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What is it now, traveler? Another claim of wisdom about the nature of things?”
I met her gaze with calm confidence, standing firm but respectful. “Not wisdom,” I said, my voice steady. “Just something I think you should hear.”
Her staff tapped lightly as she leaned against it, her expression skeptical but intrigued. “Speak, then. If you waste my time, I will not indulge you again.”
I took a slow breath, choosing my words carefully. “I believe the wisps respond to me because I was given permission—entrusted with this ability. Not by accident or happenstance, but as part of something much bigger.”
Her eyes narrowed, a flicker of curiosity breaking through her guarded demeanor. “And you claim to understand the nature of this permission? The source of it?”
I hesitated for only a moment, then spoke with quiet conviction. “Yes, but not fully. I know it’s real. When I woke up here... I wasn’t just given these abilities. I was given a purpose. A pull deep inside me, like a fire in my belly, pushing me to act.”
Her sharp eyes scanned my face, her grip tightening on her staff. “A purpose you cannot name, from a source you will not reveal? That sounds more like folly than wisdom.”
“It’s not that I won’t reveal it,” I replied gently, “but that I can’t—not yet. The source of this... pull is beyond explanation. It’s a force I’ve trusted long before I came here, something that guided me even when everything else was chaos.”
Shorga tilted her head slightly, the feathers and bones on her staff swaying with the motion. “Chaos? You speak as though you come from a land torn asunder.”
I offered a faint smile, the kind that carried both pain and resilience. “Something like that. Where I’m from, chaos is all many people knew. And sometimes, all I could do was help in small ways—pulling people from the rubble, mending wounds I didn’t always know how to heal. That’s what this... force guided me to do. Not to save everything, but to make a difference where I could.”
Her gaze lingered, and for a moment, the skepticism softened into something closer to understanding. “And this is what you think the wisps see in you? That your ‘purpose’ absolves you of ignorance?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not absolution. Responsibility. When I absorb a wisp, it’s not because I want power for its own sake. It’s because I feel like they’re giving me what I need to fulfill that purpose. A kind of trust—one I don’t take lightly.”
Shorga’s lips pressed into a thin line, but the way she studied me had changed. There was less hostility, replaced by something quieter, deeper. “You believe this? Truly?”
“Yes,” I said, meeting her gaze without flinching. “I know how it sounds, Shorga. But this feeling—it’s not something I can ignore. It’s a part of me, like my heartbeat. And I think... I think the wisps know it too. They come to me willingly because of that. Because they sense something I was given, something meant to guide me.”
Her grip on the staff loosened ever so slightly, her eyes flickering with a mix of doubt and... realization? It was subtle, but there—like a puzzle piece sliding into place. “And this... force,” she said slowly, her voice quieter now. “You believe it... watches over you? That it guides your every step?”
I hesitated, then nodded, my voice soft but steady. “I don’t think it controls me. But I think it sees more than I do, knows more than I ever could. And it’s not just watching—it’s helping me find my way. Even when I stumble, even when I doubt.”
Shorga’s amber eyes stayed locked on mine, her expression unreadable. But something in her posture shifted—a subtle tilt of her head, a slight easing of her shoulders. She didn’t speak, as if weighing my words against her own thoughts.
“I know you don’t trust me,” I continued, my tone humble but unwavering. “And I understand why. But I need you to know I don’t take this lightly. Whatever the wisps are, whatever they represent... I believe they’re helping me because I’m meant to help others.”
Her lips parted slightly, a question on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself. Instead, her gaze grew distant, as if pieces of a larger truth were slowly falling into place. When she finally looked back at me, her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—those sharp, molten eyes—held a flicker of something new. Not trust, but perhaps... the seed of it.
“You tread a dangerous path, traveler,” she said at last, her voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “But perhaps... it is a path you are meant to walk.”
I inclined my head respectfully, sensing the weight of her words. “That’s all I’ve ever believed, Shorga. Thank you for hearing me out.”
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her staff tapping softly against the ground. I watched her go, the forest around me suddenly quieter, as if holding its breath. Whatever realization she’d come to, she kept it to herself, but I could feel the shift in the air between us.
As the last echoes of Shorga’s staff faded into the distance, I remained in place, letting the quiet of the forest settle around me. The interaction had left me thoughtful—more aware of the delicate web of trust and doubt I was weaving here. For all the hostility Shorga carried, there was a glimmer of understanding, however faint. Perhaps that was a start.
I turned back toward the village, drawn by the faint sound of hammering from the forge. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal was a reminder of the tribe’s resilience, their ability to build despite the weight of their past. As I stepped into the encampment, I caught sight of Grok’an near the central bonfire, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the flames as he spoke with another orc—a woman with an air of quiet authority.
Khaz’ara stood nearby, her arms crossed as she listened intently to their conversation. When her amber eyes caught mine, she gave a small wave and motioned me over. Intrigued, I crossed the space between us, weaving through villagers who still watched me with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.
“Looks like you’ve been busy,” Khaz’ara said, her tone teasing but warm. “Talking to Shorga, no less. Brave of you.”
“Brave, reckless—depends on who you ask,” I replied lightly. “What’s going on here?”
She jerked her head toward Grok’an and the other orc, who now turned to include us in their conversation. The woman’s expression was sharp, her tusks gleaming as she spoke with measured intensity.
“This is Malg’arra,” Khaz’ara said , her tone shifting to something more serious. “She’s one of the leaders of the hunting parties—and Grok’an’s closest advisor.”
Malg’arra gave me a once-over, her dark eyes narrowing. “So, this is the human who’s been stirring up the village.”
“Guilty as charged,” I said, keeping my tone light but respectful. “Nice to meet you.”
She grunted in acknowledgment, her gaze shifting back to Grok’an. “You were saying?”
Grok’an’s deep voice rumbled like distant thunder as he addressed her. “The scouts have confirmed it. There’s movement near the western pass—activity that doesn’t belong to the local wildlife.”
Malg’arra’s jaw tightened. “Slavers?”
“Possibly,” Grok’an replied grimly. “And if they are, they’ll be looking for stragglers—or worse.”
A heavy silence fell over the group, the weight of their words settling like a storm cloud. I felt a flicker of anger stir in my chest, unbidden but fierce. “Slavers?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. “You’re saying there are still people out there... enslaving your kin?”
Malg’arra’s eyes snapped to mine, her gaze hard. “Of course there are. You think the wizards stopped when we rebelled? They simply moved their operations elsewhere. We may have driven them from this land, but their reach is vast.”
Grok’an nodded, his expression grim. “Many of our people remain in chains—far too many. Every time we think we’ve cut off one arm of their operations, another grows elsewhere.”
Khaz’ara’s voice was quieter, laced with an undercurrent of frustration. “It’s why we guard our borders so fiercely. Every stranger could be a spy, a threat waiting to strike.”
I let their words sink in, the scope of their struggle settling heavily in my mind. “And you think these... slavers are near your territory now?”
Malg’arra nodded. “The scouts found tracks leading toward the western pass. If they’re there, we need to act swiftly before they get too close.”
“What’s the plan?” I asked, my voice steady but tinged with excitement.
Grok’an’s gaze met mine, his eyes dark and unreadable. “That depends. We can’t risk sending too many warriors and leaving the village undefended. But if this is a chance to free even a few of our kin, we have to take it.”
The fire crackled behind us, casting shifting shadows across their faces. For a moment, no one spoke, the weight of the decision hanging heavily in the air.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Let me help.”
Malg’arra snorted, her expression skeptical. “You? Against slavers?”
I straightened, meeting her gaze evenly. “I’m not saying I’ll take them on single-handedly. But I’ve been in worse situations. And if I can use this”—I held up my hand, a faint golden glow sparking to life— “to help in any way, then I will.”
Grok’an studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. “Your heart is in the right place, traveler. But this isn’t just about bravery. It’s about strategy—and survival.”
Malg’arra folded her arms, her skepticism unyielding. “If he’s going, he’ll need someone to keep him alive.”
“I’ll go,” Khaz’ara said suddenly, stepping forward. Her tone was firm, her eyes glinting with determination. “I know the terrain, and I can fight. Besides, someone must make sure he doesn’t trip over his own feet.”
I gave her a wry smile. “Appreciate the vote of confidence.”
Grok’an’s lips twitched in what might have been a hint of a smile, but his tone remained serious. “Fine. Khaz’ara will accompany you. But remember—this is a scouting mission first, action second. If the slavers are there, we need to know their numbers, their movements. Do not take unnecessary risks.”
Khaz’ara nodded, her expression resolute. “Understood.”
As the group began to disperse, Grok’an placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but kind. “You’ve proven yourself useful, traveler. But this is no small task. Be careful out there. And remember—this village has lost enough already.”
I met his gaze and nodded. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”
As Khaz’ara and I prepared to leave, the weight of the mission settled over me. This was not just about proving myself to the orcs or experimenting with my abilities. It was about something far bigger—righting a wrong, even if only in a small way. And for the first time since arriving in this strange world, I felt the fire in my belly burn brighter, the pull of my purpose stronger than ever.
Khaz’ara slung a small pack over her shoulder and smirked at me. “Ready, traveler? Or do you need to practice making another glowing flower before we head out?”
I chuckled, shaking off the heaviness for a moment. “Lead the way, Khaz’ara. Let’s see what we’re up against.”