Phoebe wasn’t sure if it was the salad that Gruna had somehow managed to rustle up and boil for dinner, or the song, or just Elion’s infuriating attitude, but she didn’t feel right as she fell asleep.

She slept fitfully, twitching back and forth, trying to fight her dreams. A laughing and cackling witch, like out of some movie. Rising up and standing in front of her, grinning, “Death’s coming, little witch. Coming right for you.”

The woman circled her, smirking as she did, “You don’t belong here. You know it. You should find the portal and go home, little one. There’s nothing for you here.”

“I wanna go home!” Phoebe burst into tears, trying to turn and keep the woman in sight, “I’ve tried and tried. The bloody dragon won’t let me, and I don’t know how.”

“Just click those heels.” The witch laughed before evaporating into black fog.

“I’m not a witch!” Phoebe screamed, sitting up and panting, sweat dripping off her forehead.

The sound of a knife slipping from a sheath caught, her ear, and Phoebe turned in surprise, staring in disbelief as she saw Elion standing over Gruna, blade in hand. His eyes were cold and focused, as if he were just about to sing another verse.

“No!” Phoebe launched to her feet.

Elion was swift and precise, his blade flashing through the air, reflecting the moonlight, as it dove towards Gruna’s heart.

The holy knight woke to the sound of Phoebe’s cry, throwing up an arm in a desperate attempt to block the blow. Blood exploded from her arm, as Gruna swung a knee around and knocked Elion down. The orc not showing any acknowledge of the red fluid coating her wound as she spun around and flattened the elf.

Phoebe stared in horror as Gruna slammed her fist down with the same speed and strength that had blown a boulder apart. Pounding the elf’s head into the dirt, like a more tragic beat to the song that they had sung before bed.

Incredulously, the elf’s knee came up and landed into Gruna’s groin - to no effect. The dirt around him was rising, as he was physically forced into the ground by Gruna’s relentless one-armed strike, but the elf was somehow managing to fight back.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“S-stop.” Phoebe whispered into the air.

Gruna grunted as a knife appeared in her ribcage, and Elion shoved her aside, ripping the knife back with a spray and dropping the orc to the ground. He stood up and glared over at Phoebe, “I don’t want to do this. I have no choice. You have a destiny, and it has to happen. She’s in the way.”

He stepped onto the holy knight’s shoulder, and stabbed his knife downwards. Gruna caught the knife in her teeth, and jerked her head to the side, neck flexing as she snapped it off, before delivering the slice to split open the ankle on her shoulder.

Elion fell backwards with a hissing through his teeth, as Gruna lumbered upright, and stomped downwards, shattering the man’s back with a crunch and snap that made everything in Phoebe flinch. The orc sighed heavily and rolled Elion over with a foot, before delivering another ear-wrenching stomp to the man’s groin.

The orc rolled her neck, stepping backwards and holding her wounded arm alongside her wounded chest, and rolled her jaw, “What nonsense is this, Elion? First of the Legion? You swore to protect this world. A belief you held so firmly you have answered the call of a dragon who slaughtered your people, your family, whilst you watched. Why strike now?”

“There is… Truth… In shadow.” Elion spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes as focused as when he had tried to kill Gruna. “Prophecy. The words… Drektanion knows… The words.”

“Blue fire.” Phoebe whispered, glancing sideways to see where Ghost was standing. The dire wolf was poised to strike, but seemed confused, uncertain. She didn’t blame the wolf. Elion had been an awkward friend a few hours ago. Someone that they had to trust, and now… Now had tried to kill.

The first light of dawn crept over the horizon, revealing that the dragon named was nowhere in sight. They had been abandoned, as well as betrayed.

Elion stopped breathing.

Gruna limped over to Phoebe, reaching out and cupping her cheek. Smiling with a tenderness that seemed to help the world fade away. Leaving only the two of them standing there.

Phoebe didn’t even realise what she was doing, until her lips met the orc’s. If was a fleeting moment, come and gone with a tentative and gentle kiss. An acknowledgement of the trials in front of them, and Phoebe finally understanding that she wasn’t at home anymore. This was not some game to be played. A story to be told.

Gruna and Ghost were the only good things left in her life.

She burst into tears and dropped her head into Gruna’s shoulder. The orc grunted, and shifted, “Whilst I understand your pain, and the kindness also, I am not quite in good health. May I take a moment?”

Phoebe jerked back and sniffed, “Fuck! He stabbed you in the gut. I uh… Hospital? Healing potions? Is that shit a thing?”

“I have suffered worse.” The orc gave a small chuckle, before wincing, “Yet, I do find myself in need of some assistance. Would you be able to craft a painkiller tincture, on my behalf?”

“Painkiller tea?” Phoebe asked without comprehension.

Gruna smiled, “The trees provide. I shall give guidance, but… Must find a seat, before weakness takes me.”