Fated To The Orc King

Chapter 28

▪️I Z A R A▪️

"Your expression speaks volumes. What's been weighing on your mind?" Dura asked.

The elderly Orc sat at one of her tables, an array of dried herbs and potions carefully arranged around her. Like always, her presence exuded a sense of timeless wisdom, and the lines etched into her weathered face seemed to tell stories of ages long past.

Dura's hands, gnarled by years of dedicated practice, moved with a grace that only experience could grant. Her fingers danced among the herbs, each touch deliberate and knowing. It was as if the very essence of the plants recognized her touch, responding to her ancient knowledge.

Her eyes, still vibrant and sharp behind the lenses of her spectacles despite the passage of time, held a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. They were windows to a lifetime of healing, compassion, and a connection to forces beyond the mundane. I found myself captivated by the air of serenity that enveloped her, calming the worries that had been lingering within me.

The delicate scents of chamomile and lavender wafted through the air, creating an atmosphere of tranquillity and reassurance. In the presence of Dura and her sacred craft, I felt a sense of reverence for the healing traditions that had been passed down through generations. Since moving to the castle, I had been honoured and humbled to have the opportunity to learn from her and never took any of her teachings for granted.

As I sat next to her, I could not help but feel a profound sense of respect for the guardian of these ancient remedies. Dura was not just a healer; she was a keeper of wisdom, a sentinel of the past, and a guiding light for those seeking solace and renewal.

"Sometimes, Dura, I find myself getting lost in my thoughts and the uncertainties that lie ahead," I mused, while staring out the window. "I can't help but wonder if I'll be enough to overcome it all."

Dura leaned in, her wise eyes locking on to mine as she replied, "Over the last century and then some, I've seen the fiercest of storms and the darkest of nights, my dear. What I've learned is that strength doesn't always come in the form of muscle or magic. It's in the bonds we forge, the trust we share, and the valour that burns within us. Your resolve, Izara, that's a force that can move mountains and quell the fiercest tempests. Never doubt its power."

I listened to her words carefully while shifting in my seat.

Dura, the wise and skilled Orc healer, noticed my unease, the way my fingers fidgeted with the hem of my tunic top, and the way I bit my lip as I struggled to control the swirling gusts of wind that seemed to dance erratically around me.

Her voice was gentle as she spoke, "What's really wrong, Izara? You seem more troubled than usual, the winds around you are restless today."

I sighed, my shoulders tense, my voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and concern. "It's been happening for the past few days, ever since I've been able to do that arrow move."

"The one created by Mogakh the Malevolent?"

"Yes, ever since that night, I don't know why but my magic, it's become a bit more erratic at times, chaotic even, if I'm truly being honest."

Dura raised an eyebrow, her gaze focused on me as she moved to grind some herbs in her mortar, "Chaotic, you say? Care to elaborate?"

Clearing my throat, I confessed, "My magic has been unpredictable lately. Unintentional gusts of wind seem to follow me everywhere I go, causing chaos and confusion."

The elderly Orc's eyes flickered with understanding, and she set the pestle aside, "I see. And how do you feel about this, Izara?"

I chewed my lower lip, my worries spilling out, "I feel overwhelmed. I fear that I might inadvertently harm those I care about. Especially since I've spent all this time trying to prove to everyone that I'm not a threat, the last thing I want is for my powers to cause harm or chaos."