Ashar stood alone in the heart of the stronghold, his fingers tracing the crude map of the land that had been hastily drawn by one of the survivors. His eyes scanned the terrain, studying the positions of nearby human settlements and Orc patrol routes. Rylah's absence weighed heavily on him, and the long days of waiting only seemed to stretch the uncertainty further. The others, too, were growing restless. Their hope was fragile, just as their strength was—thin from years of enslavement, fragile but determined.
He knew they couldn't afford to be complacent, but he also couldn't ignore the gnawing worry that had settled deep in his gut.
"What if they fail?" Ashar muttered to himself. He wasn't supposed to have doubts. He was their leader now. They had placed their trust in him, and he couldn't—he wouldn't—let them down. But that didn't mean the fear didn't linger.
The wind whispered through the gaps in the crude walls, bringing with it the scent of the forest and the distant rumblings of thunder. It felt like the world was holding its breath, and Ashar was right at the edge, ready to spring. He leaned over the map, trying to concentrate. There was no time to waste, no room for hesitation.
Footsteps broke his concentration, and Ashar quickly stood straight, turning to see one of his closest allies—Torin—approaching. Torin was an older man, rough-hewn from a life of labor, but his eyes held a quiet wisdom.
"How's the construction going?" Ashar asked, trying to push his worries aside for a moment.
Torin wiped his brow, his face creased with the strain of hard work. "We're getting there. The walls are weak, but they're holding up. Just needs more hands. If we had more tools, we could fortify faster."
Ashar nodded. "We're working with what we have. The resources are limited, but we'll make it work."
"Always have, haven't we?" Torin gave him a faint smile, one of the few signs of optimism Ashar had seen in recent days. "But, Ashar, there's something I've been meaning to ask."
Ashar's brow furrowed. "What is it?"
Torin shifted uncomfortably, looking over his shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers before stepping closer. "The people... they're worried about you. They know you're driven, but you're not present like you used to be. Always looking toward the future, toward what we need to build. But they don't see the man who led them through that battle anymore. They see someone who's already gone."
Ashar felt a pang in his chest. He hadn't realized it had become that obvious. He had been so focused on the war ahead, the strategy, and the looming threat of the Orcs, that he'd forgotten to stop and check on his people, to truly be there for them.
"Tell them... tell them I'm still here," Ashar said, his voice quieter than he intended. "I'm still fighting for them. But I can't afford to slow down. The Orcs won't give us the luxury of rest. If we don't strike soon, we'll lose everything."
Torin nodded, but Ashar could see the concern in his eyes. "They need you more than they need your plans, Ashar. They need to know you're human, not just a symbol of their hope."
Ashar's lips pressed into a thin line. "I'm not a symbol. I'm just a man. A man trying to survive."
"And that's what makes you a leader," Torin replied. "You don't see yourself that way yet, but they do. They've seen what you've done. They're willing to follow you to the ends of the earth."
Ashar didn't respond. Instead, he turned back to the map. "I need to prepare for every possibility. I've sent Rylah to the east, but we can't count on them. What if they refuse to join us? What if they decide to side with the Orcs instead?"
Torin placed a hand on Ashar's shoulder, his grip firm. "You can't control that. All you can control is what's in front of you. We'll take it one step at a time, together. Right now, the next step is to get through this. And we can't do it without you."
Ashar closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "I know. I'll be better. I promise."
***
Later that night, after the sun had set and the survivors huddled around their campfires, Ashar found himself alone once more, staring into the flickering flames. His thoughts were a jumble of what-ifs, each one pulling at him like a rope. There was so much to be done—so many things he still didn't know.
What if Rylah doesn't make it back?
What if the Orcs find us first?
What if I've pushed my people too hard?
He hated these thoughts, hated that they kept him up at night. In the silence, with only the crackling of the fire to fill the space, his mind wandered back to the years of his captivity. The memory of the shackles, the cold hands of the Orc overseers, the days without end spent in endless labor. It felt like a lifetime ago, but the wounds still ran deep. He could still feel the sting of those days—the hopelessness that had clung to him, the fear that the Orcs would crush him like they had crushed so many before him.
But we escaped, Ashar thought fiercely. We made it out. And I won't let them take that from us.
The crack of a twig brought Ashar back to reality. He turned, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his knife. But it was only Rylah.
Her face was covered in dirt, her clothes torn, but she stood tall. Her eyes, though tired, were alight with something—determination, perhaps. Or hope.
"They didn't join us," she said, her voice low and steady. "They're too afraid. They've been too beaten down by the Orcs. I tried to convince them, but there's only so much you can do when fear controls them."
Ashar let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I thought so."
"But I learned something else, Ashar," Rylah continued, her voice taking on a harder edge. "The Orcs… they're not as united as we thought. There's a power struggle brewing within their ranks. A few factions fighting for control. If we can exploit that, we might have a chance."
Ashar's heart quickened. "A power struggle? Who's fighting for control?"
Rylah paused, looking over her shoulder before speaking again. "There's a faction led by a general named Gorthak. He's a brutal one—he's been pushing the Orcs to expand their territory, to crush human villages without mercy. But there's another faction, led by a leader named Vargoth, who wants peace with the humans. He thinks the war is draining their resources. They're at odds, and it's tearing the Orcs apart."
Ashar felt a surge of hope. "If we can turn this against them, if we can manipulate their factions..."
Rylah nodded. "Exactly. But we'll need more than just ideas. We need to act fast."
Ashar thought for a moment, his fingers tapping against his thigh. The pieces were falling into place. If the Orcs were divided, if their leadership was in turmoil, this could be their opportunity. But it wouldn't be easy.
He turned to Rylah, his face hardening with resolve. "We'll strike first. We'll create chaos among their ranks, disrupt their operations. But we need information. We need to know who's with us and who's against us."
"I'll gather what I can," Rylah said, determination lighting her features. "But we'll need time. The Orcs are smart. They won't fall for this easily."
Ashar nodded. "Time. We don't have much of it."
As Rylah prepared to leave, Ashar couldn't help but wonder just how much time they truly had left. The tension in the air was thick, and every step he took felt like a step closer to the precipice. But the path forward was clear. He had to move forward, no matter the cost.
Because this war, this fight for their freedom, was just beginning.