The inner wall of Sharil stood as a final bastion, its stones scorched and cracked under the siege’s relentless fury. Dawn’s light struggled through a sky choked with smoke, casting a sickly glow over the blood-soaked streets. Raemok stood at the barricade’s forefront, his armor dented, his blade stained crimson. Beside him, Demoris gripped his sword, his face pale but defiant, blood dripping from wounds that refused to close. The remaining guards formed a ragged line, their eyes hollow yet resolute. Beyond the wall, the Black Maw Clan’s war cries grew louder, a tide of death drawing near.

  Remoran advanced through Sharil’s ruins, Orkinder a dark flame in his hand. The sword’s voice was a roar now, drowning his doubts. End them. Claim your vengeance. You are their god. Bodies littered his path—guards with throats slashed, townsfolk crushed beneath rubble, their lifeless eyes accusing. His heart should have been stone, but each step stirred memories—Demoris’s stern voice, a boy’s laughter, Grima’s touch. He crushed them, letting Orkinder’s hunger fill the void.

  The barricade loomed ahead, a fragile defiance. Remoran raised Orkinder, and his warriors charged, axes smashing against wood and steel. Raemok met them with a roar, his blade a blur of precision. He cleaved through an orc’s shoulder, bone shattering, blood spraying like rain. Another lunged, only to fall as Raemok’s sword pierced its chest, ribs cracking under the force. His strength was orcish, his grace human, a harmony born of love, not hate.

  Demoris fought beside him, his movements slower but lethal. An orc’s axe grazed his arm, tearing muscle, but he countered, driving his blade through the orc’s eye, gore bursting across his face. He stumbled, blood pooling at his feet, yet his gaze never wavered. “Hold fast!” he shouted, voice cracking. “For Sharil!”

  The barricade buckled under the onslaught. Orcs breached the line, and chaos erupted. Raemok saw a guard fall, his skull split by a mace, brains spilling onto the dirt. He hacked through the attacker, his blade severing an arm, blood gushing in a torrent. But the tide was overwhelming. Demoris staggered, an orc’s spear piercing his thigh, pinning him to the ground. He roared, slashing the orc’s throat, blood fountaining as it collapsed.

  Raemok reached him, cutting down another foe, his sword dripping with gore. “Captain, stay with me!” he pleaded, hauling Demoris upright.

  Demoris’s eyes were dimming, but he gripped Raemok’s arm. “Find him, lad. End this.”

  Before Raemok could reply, a shadow loomed. Remoran stepped through the breach, Orkinder pulsing with dark energy. His armor was splashed with blood, his face a mask of rage and torment. The guards froze, their courage faltering under his gaze. Raemok stood firm, his heart pounding, the amulet at his neck glinting defiantly.

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  “Warlord!” Raemok called, his voice cutting through the din. “Face me!”

  Remoran’s eyes locked onto him, narrowing at the amulet. A flicker of recognition stirred, but Orkinder snarled, Lies! He is your enemy! Kill him! Remoran lunged, Orkinder slashing in a deadly arc. Raemok parried, the impact jarring his arms, sparks flying like dying stars. Their blades clashed again, steel screaming, blood and sweat mingling in the air.

  Remoran’s strikes were brutal, each swing carrying the weight of his grief. Raemok countered with agility, ducking a blow that shattered the barricade behind him, splinters flying. He thrust, grazing Remoran’s side, blood welling through torn armor. Remoran roared, kicking Raemok’s chest, sending him sprawling. Pain exploded through Raemok’s ribs, but he rolled to his feet, blade raised.

  “You defend traitors!” Remoran growled, his voice raw. “They took everything from me!”

  “They’re innocent!” Raemok shouted, parrying another strike, his arms trembling. “You’ve lost yourself to that blade!”

  Orkinder’s whispers surged, drowning Remoran’s doubts. End him! Prove your strength! He swung, aiming for Raemok’s throat, but Raemok sidestepped, his blade slicing Remoran’s arm, blood streaming down. The warlord staggered, and for a moment, his eyes cleared, the amulet’s gleam piercing the darkness.

  “Who… gave you that?” Remoran rasped, his voice breaking.

  Raemok hesitated, hope flaring. “My mother. She died to save me. You… you’re my father, aren’t you?”

  The words struck like a blade. Remoran froze, memories flooding—Grima’s smile, a child’s cry, a life he had forsaken. Orkinder screamed, He lies! Kill him now! But the amulet’s truth was undeniable. Remoran’s hand trembled, Orkinder’s weight suddenly unbearable.

  “No,” he whispered, horror dawning. “I… I was wrong.”

  Raemok stepped closer, his sword lowering. “Father, you can stop this. Come back to us.”

  Orkinder’s voice was frantic, Weakness! You are mine! It surged, dark energy coursing through Remoran, forcing his arm to raise. He lunged, a puppet of the blade’s will, but Raemok was ready. He parried, their blades locking, faces inches apart.

  “I won’t let you destroy yourself,” Raemok said, tears in his eyes.

  Demoris, crawling through the dirt, his lifeblood ebbing, shouted, “Raemok, free him! The blade—it’s taken his soul!”

  Remoran’s eyes met Raemok’s, a father’s love breaking through the darkness. “I’m sorry,” he choked. “End it, my son. Free me.”

  Raemok’s heart shattered, but he nodded, resolve hardening. With a cry of anguish, he drove his sword through Remoran’s chest, piercing heart and bone. Blood poured, soaking the earth, as Remoran gasped, his body sagging. Orkinder fell from his grasp, its whispers silenced, its power broken.

  Remoran clutched Raemok’s shoulder, a faint smile on his lips. “You… have her heart,” he whispered, blood bubbling at his mouth. “Live… for both of us.”

  He collapsed, lifeless, his eyes peaceful at last. Raemok sank to his knees, sobbing, cradling his father’s body. The battle faded, the orcs retreating without their warlord, Sharil’s survivors gathering in stunned silence. Demoris, his breath shallow, reached for Raemok’s hand.

  “You did right, lad,” he murmured, his voice fading. “You saved him.”

  Raemok nodded, tears streaming, knowing the cost of mercy. Remoran was free, his soul reclaimed from Orkinder’s grasp, but the wound in Raemok’s heart would never fully heal.