Afraid of the Dark

Chapter 32: Swan Song

"M'Venaas, you know your role. Gimb avhe avribe leadas agh eliminaave lav-li. Kill anyone who stands in your way," the commanding orc leader bellows with a thunderous voice, addressing M'Venaas, who stands resolute with her head held high and her hands clasped behind her back.

Avinalyn observes from a distance, occasionally glancing over their shoulder to check on Cree. His attention is unwavering, focused on his surroundings, and he impatiently fidgets with the ropes binding his wrists. They can tell it's taking all the will he has to not take off sprinting with his hands bound. They can't say they blame him, assuming everything he's said about Reela is true.

Returning their attention to M'Venaas, Avinalyn watches as she nods sharply in response to her superior's orders. Her allegiance to the cause is evident. Avinalyn seizes this opportunity, their gaze fixed on M'Venaas and the other Narvadin spies, speaking a mixture of N'Fel and orcish that escapes their comprehension. This gives them their window.

Without turning around, they cautiously step back toward Cree, maintaining their composed posture and keeping a sharp glare fixed on M'Venaas and her comrades. In one swift motion, they reach out and grasp Cree's wrist, feeling a hint of resistance from him. Their grip tightens, a silent warning against any impulsive actions.

With a brief glance down at him, Avinalyn pull out their rift shard and a Schism Fragment. Their eyes return to M'Venaas, ensuring she remains engrossed in her mission alongside the invading forces. Without uttering a word, they use the shard, using it to transport themself and Cree away from the town square.

In an instant, they stand at the city docks, shadowed by the imposing presence of the Varagores war galley with its ominous gray flags billowing in the smoke-filled air. Cree staggers and looks around like he just got a rock thrown at him, utterly confused as he realizes he is somewhere else, yet still in the company of Avinalyn.

"What the fuck—"

Avinalyn grabs the rope binding his metal wrist, their hand igniting with a small flame that singes the bindings, freeing his hands. The confusion on Cree's face deepens as he looks up at them, but before he can voice his question, they maintain their grip on his wrist and meet his eyes.

"Reela is somewhere nearby," they state cryptically. "Find her. If you want to prove that your intentions with her are pure, now is your chance."

Cree removes the rest of the ropes from his wrists, raising a quizzical brow. "Wait, so you're helping me now?" he questions, but they shake their head.

"Not you. If I had a better option, I would take it. But I'm guessing you're better to find her than Varagores is," they reply, releasing his arm and stepping back while tightening their grip on the rift shard. "Do not let them take her. Do not make me regret giving you this chance."

Cree tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. "But what—"

Before he can finish his sentence, they vanish in a burst of swirling black smoke, reappearing behind M'Venaas. She is still engaged in conversation with the remaining spies, the others having likely departed to carry out their orders. Ven herself is probably next in line.

Avinalyn straightens their shoulders, pocketing the rift shard and dusting off their hand, remnants of ash from Cree's bindings lingering. They approach M'Venaas, their hands now clasped behind their back.

"Where do you need me?" they ask calmly, capturing her attention as she glances back at them.

Ven looks them over slowly, a sly smirk playing upon her lips. "With her. She wants you within her sight," she says, biting her lip and offering a subtle wink before flicking her ear back and turning her gaze to her orc superiors. With a sharp nod to her commander, she declares, "We leave immediately."