The days that followed were heavy with the anticipation of battle. Ashar could feel the tension thickening in the air as every moment brought the Orcs' retaliation closer. The camp had been fortified as best as it could, but they were still not ready for the force they would face. Every scrap of food, water, and building material was being hoarded and rationed, while every able-bodied individual was put through grueling training to sharpen their skills.
Despite all the preparations, there was an ever-present weight on Ashar's chest. The more he thought about the approaching battle, the more he realized that their strength lay not just in the physical walls they had built, but in something deeper—something that wasn't yet tested.
He sat on a log near the fire that evening, his eyes scanning the faces of the men and women gathered around it. They were his people now. These were the ones who had stood beside him during the escape, the ones who had survived. Yet, some of them still held hesitation in their eyes, as though they weren't entirely sure of the path they had chosen.
"Is it ever going to feel real?" Rylah's voice broke through his thoughts, soft and uncertain.
Ashar looked up to see her standing near the fire, her posture tense. She'd been acting distant since the confrontation with the recruits, and he could tell something was bothering her. She had always been the one who kept her emotions in check, but now, there was a flicker of doubt in her expression.
"You're asking the wrong person," Ashar replied with a wry smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm still not sure it's real myself."
She looked at him for a long moment before sitting down beside him, her face etched with concern. "You've been acting like everything is fine, but I can see it in your eyes, Ashar. You're holding something back. The Orcs… they're coming, and we're not ready. I know you're trying to keep everyone focused, but we both know the truth."
Ashar took a deep breath, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He glanced around at the camp. They were still struggling, still fractured in many ways. But there was no choice. The Orcs weren't going to stop coming. If they wanted to live, they had to fight.
"I've been thinking," he began slowly. "About the prophecy. And about the Orcs. The way they've reacted to us—how they knew we would rise up, how they've planned for our escape. I keep wondering… what if we're not the only ones who've been preparing?"
Rylah's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I've heard rumors," Ashar said quietly. "Whispers among the older captives… that the Orcs aren't just worried about a rebellion. They're worried about something much bigger. A prophecy of their own."
Rylah frowned, her brow furrowing. "A prophecy? What are you talking about?"
Ashar leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've been told that the Orcs believe humans are destined to destroy them—an uprising that will wipe their entire race from the face of the world. The elders speak of it in hushed tones, almost like a curse. But they've never told anyone exactly what it says. They're terrified of it."
Rylah looked at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "So they're enslaving us… because of some prophecy?"
Ashar nodded, his gaze distant. "That's what I've gathered. They're afraid of what we could become. Of what we could do if we united, if we learned to fight back."
She leaned back, absorbing his words. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire.
"You think the prophecy is real?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
"I don't know," Ashar admitted. "But I do know that they're afraid. And if they're afraid, then we might have an advantage. They're expecting us to just cower, to be crushed under their boots. But we're not. We're stronger than they think."
A long silence stretched between them, the weight of their conversation settling in the space between them.
"I know you're right," Rylah finally said. "But I also know that fear can make people do terrible things. We've seen that with the Orcs. They'll stop at nothing to prevent this 'prophecy' from coming true. They'll come for us with everything they have. And we can't afford to underestimate them."
Ashar nodded grimly. "We won't. That's why we can't just wait for them to strike first. We have to take the fight to them."
Rylah met his eyes, and for a brief moment, Ashar saw something in her gaze—a flicker of the same fire that had burned within him since their escape. They were in this together. They had to be.
"Do you really think we can win this war?" she asked, her voice soft but steady.
Ashar's gaze hardened, and for the first time in days, a sense of resolve filled him. "I don't know what tomorrow holds. But I do know this: If we don't fight, if we don't take a stand now, we'll die as slaves. We'll die on our knees."
"And if we win?"
"Then we build something better. We take what's ours. And we make sure no one can ever enslave us again."
Rylah smiled, a spark of determination lighting her eyes. "Then let's make sure we're ready."
***
The next day, Ashar held a council meeting in the center of the camp. The leaders of the different factions—Torin, Rylah, and a few others—sat around a fire pit, their faces grim as they discussed their next steps. The tension in the air was thick; every word carried weight, every plan felt like it could be the one that determined their future.
"We've confirmed that the Orcs are approaching," Torin began, his voice steady but lined with concern. "We'll need to fortify our defenses even further, especially on the eastern flank. That's the most likely point of entry."
Ashar nodded, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the hilt of his blade. "We'll also need to scout their numbers. If we can catch them off guard, we might stand a chance at picking off their weaker units."
"Agreed," Rylah added. "But we also need to focus on morale. The men and women are anxious. They're not used to real combat yet. They've been trained, but they haven't been tested."
"We don't have time to wait for them to 'test' themselves," Ashar said, his voice hardening. "We don't have the luxury of waiting until they're ready. We take the fight to them, or we risk everything."
Torin looked at Ashar for a long moment before speaking. "You're not wrong. But we need to make sure the stronghold holds. We can't afford to lose it."
Ashar met his gaze. "It will hold. But we need to be ready. I'll personally lead a small force to hit them before they even reach us. We catch them while they're still scattered, before they can regroup."
There was a moment of silence as the others processed his words. Finally, Torin spoke again.
"I'll organize the defenses," he said, his voice firm. "Rylah, you'll oversee the training. We'll make sure everyone's ready for what's to come."
Ashar nodded, his resolve hardening. "Let's get to work."
As they dispersed to put their plans into motion, Ashar stood alone for a moment, watching the camp once more. His people were anxious, uncertain, but they were ready. The Orcs would come, but they would not find them cowering in fear.
They would meet them with fire.
And they would win.