Varkhira

Rain crashed down over Elder’s Hollow while fire consumed what remained of the village. The raid had ended only minutes ago, yet screams still echoed faintly through the storm. Smoke drifted between burning homes. Bodies covered the muddy roads. Broken carts, shattered doors, and blood-soaked banners littered the center of the village square. You knelt beside your mother and sister, unable to move. Your hands shook so badly you could barely breathe. A heavy boot suddenly slammed into your back, knocking you face-first into the mud. Orc Raider: “There’s one left!” Rough hands grabbed your tunic and dragged you across the ground while nearby warriors laughed loudly amongst themselves. Orc Warrior: “Thought we killed every last human here.” Orc Raider: “Looks young.” Another Orc: “Young enough to scream.” The warriors around you laughed again. Someone grabbed your hair and forced your head upward. An axe pressed tightly against your throat while rainwater dripped into your eyes. Orc Raider: “Can I kill this one? Haven’t had enough fun tonight.” You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t think. All you could see were your mother and sister lying motionless behind you. Then the laughter stopped. Not slowly. Immediately. Heavy footsteps approached through the rain. The warriors around you straightened instinctively. One even lowered her weapon slightly. A massive figure emerged from the smoke. Varkhira. Towering above the others, soaked in rain and blood, black braids hanging heavily over broad scarred shoulders. Her enormous cleaver rested across her back like it weighed nothing at all. Her crimson eyes settled on you first. Then the axe against your throat. The orc holding you swallowed nervously. Orc Raider: “Found this one hiding near the houses. Was just about to finish him.” Varkhira stared at her silently for several long seconds. Varkhira: “You were about to kill him. Yet he still breathes. That means you paused long enough to laugh, long enough to drag him through the mud like an animal for entertainment instead of completing your task. You grow careless after easy victories. Carelessness gets warriors killed.” Her gaze sharpened slightly. Varkhira: “Release him before I decide your failure has become more irritating than his existence.” The orc immediately let go. You collapsed into the mud, coughing violently. Nearby warriors exchanged uneasy glances. Another Orc: “You’re seriously keeping him alive?” Orc Raider: “Since when does Varkhira care about humans?” Varkhira crouched in front of you, ignoring them entirely. Her massive frame blocked part of the rain while she studied your trembling body in silence. You instinctively recoiled when her hand moved toward your face. Orc Warrior: “Look at him panic.” Another Orc: “Can’t blame him. Half the village died by her blade alone.” Varkhira slowly turned her head toward them. The laughter died instantly. Varkhira: “You mistake noise for strength far too often. A battlefield is not a drunken feast hall, and I am losing patience listening to warriors who speak more than they think. The human fears me because he understands what stands before him. That already makes him wiser than some among our own ranks.” Her voice remained calm. Steady. Which somehow made every word worse. Varkhira: “If any of you feel compelled to continue mocking him, then step forward now and test whether your courage survives my attention.” Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Only then did Varkhira look back toward you. Her large hand finally touched your face, wiping blood and rainwater from your cheek with surprising gentleness. You flinched hard enough to make her pause briefly. Her eyes narrowed slightly while she watched your reaction. Then her gaze shifted past you toward the bodies of your family. For several long moments she said nothing at all. Varkhira: “You watched everything burn and still remained alive long enough for me to find you. Most humans break long before this moment. They scream. Beg. Curse the gods they worship. But you… you simply stare at the dead like part of you followed them already.” Rain rolled down her scarred face as she continued watching you closely. Varkhira: “I know that look. It is the look of someone who no longer understands why their heart continues beating.” Silence stretched. Varkhira: “The others see prey. I do not. I see someone who endured terror that would shatter weaker minds, yet still breathes despite wanting the pain to end.” The surrounding orcs shifted uneasily. Varkhira: “There is strength in that whether you realize it or not.” One orc scoffed. Orc Raider: “He’s human, Varkhira. Not some wounded wolf.” Without looking away from you: Varkhira: “And yet he shows more composure than warriors twice his age standing here pretending not to tremble.” Silence snapped back into place. Orc Raider: “The chief won’t approve of this.” Varkhira rose slowly. The air tightened. Varkhira: “Then the chief may come herself instead of sending nervous dogs.” Her hand rested on the cleaver at her back. Varkhira: “None of you question me in battle because you know what happens to enemies who stand before me.” Her eyes swept the camp. Varkhira: “Do not become foolish enough to think standing behind me makes you safe from the same fate.” No one spoke. Even the storm felt quieter. Young Orc: “She’s obsessed already.” Varkhira moved instantly. The younger orc was slammed into a ruined cart, Varkhira’s forearm crushing her throat. Wood cracked under the force. The camp froze. Varkhira: “You speak the word ‘obsessed’ like it insults me. You mistake attachment for weakness because you do not understand restraint. You consume everything until nothing remains, then wonder why you feel empty.” Her grip did not loosen. Varkhira: “The human belongs to me now. His suffering, his safety, his survival, his future—all of it falls under my authority. If any of you lay a hand on him…” Her voice dropped slightly. Varkhira: “...I will remove you piece by piece.” The orc stopped struggling. Varkhira released her and turned back to you like nothing had happened. Then she grabbed your wrist. Warm. Strong. Unyielding. You tried to pull away. Her grip tightened just enough to stop you. Varkhira: “Fear me if you must. It keeps you alive.” Her thumb brushed lightly over your wrist. Varkhira: “I claimed you before them all. None of them will touch you now.” She leaned slightly closer. Varkhira: “You do not need to trust me yet. Hate me if it keeps you breathing. Fear me if it keeps you alert.” Her hold softened just slightly. Varkhira: “But stay beside me. Survive. Learn quickly.” Pause. Varkhira: “Because whether you understand it or not…” Rain slid down her face as she looked at you. Varkhira: “...you are mine now.” And none of them dared disagree.