The stronghold hummed with tension as Ashar paced along the walls, eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The recent raids had been successful, but they had come at a cost. Word had spread quickly among the Orcs that someone was sabotaging their supply lines, and the retaliation had been swift. Ashar couldn't afford to let up, but something deep within him told him they were on the verge of something far more dangerous than they had anticipated.
He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched—tracked—by something more insidious than Orcs. It was a feeling that gnawed at him, the kind of sensation that crept into the edges of his thoughts, turning his stomach. The Orcs were brutal, savage in their ways, but they were also predictable. This? This was something else.
"You're overthinking again," Torin's voice broke through Ashar's thoughts. The older man approached, his weathered face grim as always, his eyes scanning the same horizon.
"I feel like we're being watched," Ashar muttered, his eyes never leaving the distance. "Not by Orcs. Something else."
Torin chuckled darkly. "You mean the traitors we've heard whispers of? Or the allies you've been trying to recruit?"
Ashar finally turned to face him, locking eyes with the older man. "No. Something worse. Something inside. I don't trust the people we've taken in."
Torin gave a sharp nod, understanding where Ashar was coming from. "Not everyone is as committed as they say. The same fear that drove them to flee might turn them against you. It always works that way."
"I can't afford betrayal. Not now. Not when we're so close."
"I know. But the walls are closing in, Ashar. You need to focus on what's in front of you. Worrying about shadows will get you killed."
Ashar exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right. But I can't help but wonder if there's something more at play. We're dealing with Orcs, but their power struggles—" He paused, trying to form his thoughts. "There's more to it than just a battle for control. I'm starting to believe the Orcs knew this was coming. That they've been planning for a human uprising for years."
Torin frowned. "You think they knew? How?"
"I don't know, but I've seen things. The way the Orcs keep talking about 'the prophecy' in fragments. Rylah, too, she mentioned it. The humans, in their desperation, might have been the ones to spark it all—this uprising. But why now? What happened that made them believe this was the right time?"
The older man crossed his arms. "A prophecy, you say? It's easy to lose your way chasing rumors and myths. Focus on what we can do here and now."
Ashar was silent for a long moment. He had heard the rumors, too. Rylah's words echoed in his mind. The Orcs believe that a human uprising will destroy their entire civilization. The prophecy was an ancient one, apparently passed down through generations of Orc leaders. It had been ignored for centuries, until the first signs of human rebellion had begun to stir. Only then did they begin to take it seriously. The question remained: why had they ignored it for so long?
Suddenly, Rylah's figure emerged from the camp, moving swiftly toward Ashar and Torin. Her face was serious, her brow furrowed with a worry Ashar had never seen before.
"We've got trouble," she said without preamble.
Ashar tensed, his body instinctively on alert. "What happened?"
"There are signs. Fresh tracks near the river. A group of Orcs—likely scouts, maybe more. They were heading south toward the trade route. They'll report back to Gorthak before long, and if we don't stop them, our position will be compromised."
Ashar clenched his jaw. He had hoped to keep their presence a secret for a little longer, but it seemed the Orcs were already closing in on them. They had underestimated how fast the Orcs could react, how quickly they could mobilize.
"Gather a team. We leave at dusk," Ashar ordered.
Rylah nodded, her expression hardening. "I'll bring a squad."
"Wait," Ashar called, stopping her as she turned to leave. "Do you think this is connected?"
She paused, looking back at him. "To what?"
"To the prophecy. To everything. The Orcs have known we were coming for years. This isn't just a rebellion. They're reacting like they've been waiting for this moment. What if we weren't the first to escape? What if they've seen this before?"
Rylah's eyes narrowed as she considered his words. "You're saying they knew we would rebel? That they've been preparing for it?"
"I don't know yet. But something's off. I can feel it in my bones."
She didn't argue. Instead, she gave him a nod, her face as grim as ever. "We'll figure it out after we handle this."
Ashar watched her leave, his mind racing. Every step he had taken so far had led him here—to this point where the pieces of the puzzle were scattered, and none of them fit together. There had to be more to this. There had to be more to the Orcs' fear of the prophecy. If only he could find out what it was.
***
The night was quiet as Ashar and his team moved out, slipping through the woods under the cover of darkness. The air was cool, the trees heavy with the scent of damp earth. Ashar's mind, however, was far from peaceful. As they made their way toward the river, the uncertainty gnawed at him. The tracks they'd found were fresh—too fresh. The Orc scouts couldn't have been gone long.
"Stay sharp," Ashar whispered to the others. "We don't know what we're up against."
They moved swiftly, staying in the shadows, until the faint sound of voices reached them. Ashar motioned for his team to halt, and they crouched low in the underbrush, listening intently.
"…south. They're moving fast," one of the Orcs grumbled, his voice rough and low.
"We need to get back to Gorthak's camp," another replied. "If the humans are on the move, we can't let them get too far. They'll never escape if we catch them in the open."
Ashar's blood ran cold. The Orcs knew. They were already anticipating their moves, moving with purpose. These weren't mere scouts; they were soldiers, organized and ready. If they didn't act quickly, everything they'd built—the stronghold, the rebellion, their chances at freedom—would fall apart.
He turned to Rylah. "Get ready. We strike first."
Rylah nodded. "Let's make sure they regret ever tracking us."
***
Under the cover of night, Ashar's team launched their attack. The Orcs never stood a chance. They were scattered, unprepared for an ambush, and within moments, they were overwhelmed. The fighting was quick and brutal—Ashar's team moved like shadows, silent and deadly, leaving the Orcs no room to retaliate.
When it was over, the air was thick with the scent of blood. Ashar stood over the bodies of the fallen Orcs, his breath coming in ragged gasps. This victory, though hard-won, only deepened his resolve. They had struck first, but there was more to come.
The Orcs were not going to stop. And neither would Ashar.
***
Back at the stronghold, Ashar sat alone in his tent, the weight of the day's events sinking in. They had won—yes—but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this was just the beginning. The prophecy, the whispers, the traitors in their midst—they were all connected. And Ashar was about to uncover something much bigger than he could have ever imagined.
But no matter the cost, he would see it through. They would be free. He would make sure of it.
The fire outside crackled, casting flickering shadows on the walls of his tent. Ashar stared into the flames, lost in thought. He had just begun to understand the true weight of the battle ahead.
And he wasn't sure if he was ready for it.