To say that she was embarrassed would be a wild understatement.

Not only had she lost control and given in to an enemy's provocation, but she had been too weak to end the fight she had started and even needed to be saved by what should have been her protege.

Neer was used to lying to herself. It was a necessary skill to survive her days as a slave. But she could also tell when doing so would be counterproductive.

I have fucked up. Badly. I was deceived and then goaded. No, it's even worse. I allowed myself to be deceived because I wanted to believe the lie that was being presented. I have always considered the orcs honorable if simple beings that would never allow for the cruelties I lived through, and when Hussa presented me with that image, I went along with it. When that came crashing down, I did exactly what my enemy wanted me to do because I was too angry to think.

Sitting in a rudimentary cell, guarded by a shaman strong enough to send her to sleep should she prove belligerent, Neer had a lot of time to think. An entire day had gone by, and the more she reflected on the path that had led her to where she was, the more she realized just how easily Hussa had taken her for a ride.

And to think that Leonard had even sent her several hints about what was happening! Oh, Neer had initially been furious with him when she realized he knew she was being deceived and hadn't told her, but after the initial anger had passed and she had time to cool, she understood.

I was always going to hit this roadblock. Having been enslaved by humans, it's quite predictable that I would develop a sense of kinship for my other half, even without ever realizing it consciously. I was able to overcome most of my anger and prejudice about humans on my own through experience, but I never met orcs before. Well, not a society of orcs.

The first light of dawn filtered through the wooden slats of her cell, casting pale beams onto the rough floor. Neer felt a bit of hope that she would finally get to talk with her companions today, as her guard had promised last night.

She had spent the night wide awake, wrestling with her thoughts. The duel had been a disaster, a collision of pride, anger, and misguided expectations. But in the quiet solitude of her cell, Neer found clarity. She had been too quick to judge, too eager to prove herself to people she barely understood, much less could claim as her own. The realization stung more than any of her injuries.

Her body still ached from the fight, especially where Hussa's kick had cracked her ribs. She could have healed herself, but she was unwilling to provoke her keepers despite not being restricted from her mana. Better she suffer a bit more and let it be a lesson than risk doing more damage to Leonard's quest. The purple bruise throbbed with every breath, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness in her chest—the weight of her failure.

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, forcing herself to confront the truth: she had underestimated her people, simplifying them into honorable warriors in her mind, oh so different from the humans who had enslaved her. But orcs weren't monolithic—they were just as complex and flawed as anyone else. Hussa had shown her that.

The sound of soft footsteps drew her attention. Neer opened her eyes to see the shaman guarding her approaching with a wooden bowl in hand. He was an older orc, his skin weathered and marked with deep lines, his long gray hair tied back in a loose braid. His eyes, though, were sharp and clear, watching her with quiet intensity.

"Your morning meal," he said, handing her the bowl through the cell's wooden bars.

Neer nodded her thanks, taking the bowl. It was filled with a simple vegetable mash and dried meats, warm and hearty, though unseasoned. She ate slowly, more out of habit than appetite, her mind still occupied with the previous day's events.

She glanced up at the shaman. "What of my companions?" she asked, voice rough from disuse.

The old orc regarded her for a moment before replying. "They'll be here soon. The kid woke up late last night, and the Hero successfully passed the Trial."

Neer exhaled, feeling a small wave of relief. She had feared the worst for Oliver, especially after seeing how things had spiraled out of control. But knowing he was safe took a weight off her shoulders. That Leonard had passed whatever test the orcs had planned didn't surprise her since he had been the one to save her after Oliver went down, but she still appreciated the news. She continued eating, though her mind raced with what she would say to them.

True to the shaman's word, it wasn't long before she heard more footsteps approaching. Neer set down the empty bowl and stood, wincing slightly as her ribs protested the movement. She took a steadying breath and braced herself for whatever conversation awaited.

He might be angry enough to cast me away. He won't punish me physically. He's too good for that. But it might hurt me more to lose my position. Well, I have no one to blame but myself.

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The door to her cell opened, and Leonard stepped inside, followed closely by Oliver. Neer's breath caught at the sight of them—Leonard, as calm and composed as ever, and Oliver, looking sheepish but unharmed. If anything, the boy seemed to radiate a new energy. The chaos of the previous day had left him stronger.

The shaman moved away, giving them privacy. Leonard glanced in his direction before turning his attention to Neer. "No one else can hear us," he assured her neutrally. He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "I hope you've had time to reflect."

Neer didn't waste a moment. "I have," she said steadily. "And I need to apologize."

Oliver looked at her in surprise and opened his mouth. Neer held up a hand, signaling that she wasn't done.

"I didn't intend for things to get so out of hand," she continued, meeting Leonard's gaze directly. "But that doesn't excuse my failure. I should have seen what was happening and realized that Hussa was playing me much sooner. I fell right into her trap, and in doing so, I endangered the mission. I also understand that this in no way makes up for my failure."

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "I accept whatever punishment is necessary for my error. I've brought dishonor to myself and the Revolution."

Leonard remained silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Oliver, however, shifted uncomfortably beside him, glancing between them. Finally, the boy couldn't take it any longer.

"It's not your fault," Oliver blurted out, his voice filled with guilt. "I—I was the one who got used to provoke you. And then I made things worse by losing control of my Blessing. I let the Light overwhelm me and had to be saved when I got in over my head." He looked down at his feet, shame written all over his face. "I'm sorry, Neer. I'm sorry, Sir."

Leonard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes," he said, his voice weary but not unkind. "You both made mistakes, and there will be consequences for them. The performance you two put on lowered our standing in the eyes of the orc clans, no doubt. But…” He paused, looking between Neer and Oliver. "The competition isn't over. Your mistakes are not final."

Neer blinked in surprise. She had expected harsher words, perhaps even exile. Light knew her old master had done much worse for a lot less. But Leonard's calmness unsettled her more than any reprimand might have. He wasn't angry, just disappointed. And that stung more than she could put into words.

He was the man she owed everything to. He had been the one to save her from slavery. He had been the one to give her purpose and guide her as she emerged from the shadows.

Leonard turned his attention back to Neer. "You'll come with us after this," he told her. “You still need to attend the final Trial as my companion. And if we succeed, you'll be free."

Neer nodded, a strange mixture of relief and apprehension swirling in her chest. She had expected punishment, but Leonard was giving her another chance instead. She wouldn't waste it.

Then he looked at Oliver, and his gaze softened slightly. "As for you," he said, "we've talked about control before, haven't we? Your connection to the Light is powerful, Oliver, but power without control is dangerous—to yourself and those around you." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But you've come a long way. I'm proud of how far you've come. Now, we just need to keep working on that. So that the next time you receive a Blessing, you won't pick a fight with someone out of your league."

Oliver nodded, looking very embarrassed. "I won't let it happen again," he promised.

Leonard gave him a small, approving nod before turning back to Neer. "We have one last challenge to win, and I'll need the both of you for it," he said quietly. "Don't make me regret it."

Neer met his gaze, her determination hardening. "I won't," she vowed. "I'll be ready."

Leonard remained silent for a moment longer and then nodded. "Elder Yuw, we're done here. I'll take Neer off your hands."

----------------------------------------

The last Trial was more of a spectacle than anything before it. Every orc in the Darkwood—even those out on hunts or patrols—returned to spectate as the Guardian's presence assured its sanctity.

Watching the dyad emerge from the grass and receive the gratitude and well wishes of the tribe put things into perspective for Neer. She had known Nemas was a powerful being, of course, but hadn't seen what it actually meant. In a world without Leonard, she'd probably be the highest power in Hetnia.

Even the old warchief bowed respectfully to her and stoically endured the fae's light teasing. Though nominally independent, the orcs deeply respected Nemas and considered her the final authority in the forest.

Neer adjusted the straps of her armor, her fingers working automatically as she tightened the leather bindings. Next to her, Oliver was doing the same, his face set in a determined expression as he buckled his bracers.

The clearing stretched out before them in a massive open space easily the size of the dueling arena in Treon. The preparations had left behind trampled grass, leaving the ground bare and packed. On either side of the clearing, wooden tribunes had been erected, large enough to seat the entire Darkwood clan and tall enough that they wouldn’t miss anything. Orcs filled the seats, emitting a rumble of anticipation as they waited for the event to begin.

Neer's eyes drifted across the clearing, scanning the other contestants. Hussa stood at the opposite end, her massive frame impossible to miss. The warrior was clad in simple leather armor, but hers seemed to fit like a second skin, accentuating her muscular form. Hussa caught Neer's gaze and grinned, a feral, predatory smile that showed far too many teeth.

Neer clenched her jaw, forcing herself to look away. She wouldn't be goaded again.

Oliver glanced at her, noticing the tension in her stance. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Neer nodded, though she didn't quite meet his eyes. "I will be," she replied. "I just need to focus. We can't afford any slip-ups today."

Oliver gave her a reassuring smile. "We've got this," he said, though his voice was nervous. He was trying to be confident for both of them, and Neer appreciated the effort.

When Leonard finally joined them, he looked much like the other contestants. Almost as tall as the orc warriors, he wore simple, functional leather armor with none of the embellishments or marks of status that one might expect from the Grand Marshal of the Revolution. Neer knew it was deliberate. Leonard aimed to blend in and let his actions speak for him rather than his appearance. Today, he was just another competitor in the Trial, no different from the others. When he won, he'd be accepted all the more for it.

He tilted his head in greeting, his expression calm and composed as always. "Are you both ready?" he asked quietly.

Neer and Oliver nodded.

A few minutes passed, and the crowd's murmur grew louder as the anticipation built. Then, Grakkor stepped into the center of the clearing. He walked with slow, ponderous steps, radiating incredible power despite his age.

He roared for silence, and it carried across the clearing with the force of a thunderclap.

The crowd quieted instantly, all eyes turning toward the warchief. He surveyed the assembled orcs with a stern gaze before speaking.

"This is the final Trial," he announced, his voice deep and resonant. "The last test to determine who among us is worthy of leading the Darkwood. Today, you will face not only your opponents but also the consequences of your choices."