“I’m not entirely sure what kind of spell that was, but I sincerely appreciate it. What was that overwhelming pressure I was feeling?” Nita inquired, slowly rising to her feet. She paused for a brief moment, brushing off the dirt and debris that clung to her dress, her mind still reeling from the strange sensations that had just washed over her.

  “That was gravity magic at play—though I must admit, it carried an unsettling, unknown feeling that I’ve never encountered before. I was attempting to process that sensation while we were inside the tavern, but it felt akin to trying to read a tome while submerged beneath a roaring waterfall; the magical pressure was not just strong, it was absolutely maddening. The magical pressure was downright nauseating.”

  “Nauseating?” Nita echoed, her brow furrowed in confusion as she scrutinized Nickolas’s face, which was contorted with discomfort.

  “Absolutely. Whatever entity or force is conjuring this immense pressure is undeniably powerful beyond measure,” he elaborated, The usual confidence that characterized him was noticeably absent; a frown creased his brow, and beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, a sight that sent chills down Nita’s spine. Those who knew Nickolas well were familiar with his calm demeanor and arrogance in the face of challenges—a man who typically reveled in teasing his rivals. But now, he resembled a terrified child awaiting inevitable reprimand from a stern parent.

  Just then, a massive dark grey orc burst through the tavern door, shattering it as effortlessly as if it were made of paper. The sheer force of his entrance sent splinters flying and Nita’s heart racing. “Nita!” the orc bellowed, with his gravelly deep voice.His pace was swift and powerful, as he charged towards her, eyes ablaze with concern. He dashed past Nickolas, enveloping Nita in a bear-like embrace.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, pulling back just enough to scrutinize her closely, his gaze shifting appraisingly across her from head to toe.

  “That strange pressure we just felt—it made me feel nauseous. Did you experience any of that?” Bucrok asked, concern coloring his words as he looked up into the woman’s gentle eyes.

  “I was overwhelmed by emotions and worry and stepped out from the kitchen and nearly lost my mind when I saw you gone. Most of the patrons were either passed out or heaving their guts out all over the floor!” Bucrok exclaimed, his tone both relieved and slightly distasteful as he remembered the scene. His attention quickly shifted to Nickolas as he released Nita from his grasp, his expression hardening into one of seriousness.

  “Do you have any idea what’s happening here?” Bucrok asked, his eyes narrowing, radiating an unmistakable intensity. Nickolas took a moment to scrutinize the towering figure of the orc before him—Bucrok’s presence was undeniably formidable. Scars marred his skin, and the remnants of his left ear, bitten off in some past skirmish, only added to his intimidating aura. He wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his well-defined muscles and a dirty apron slung over his knapsack pants, testimony to his dual life as both a warrior and a chef.

  “Something violent and incomprehensibly powerful is ravaging the sky,” Nickolas clarified, his tone serious. He pointed dramatically toward the heavens, his staff clutched tightly in his hand. Dark ominous clouds began to stir in the sky that were not present before. The sun was blocked out and it looked like it could storm soon. “I don’t have all the answers, but I can feel immense waves of mana crashing like an ocean up there.”

  “Well, what should we do? Is there someone we need to speak with to address this situation?” Nita asked, her eyes darting back and forth between Bucrok and Nickolas as the gravity of their predicament began to settle in.

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  Nickolas sighed, his face etched with a mixture of resignation and reluctant determination. “Unfortunately, I’m the one you’re going to have to consult about this. I’d rather avoid it, but I need to ascend and discover what peril is brewing up there.” He gripped his staff tightly, the weight of responsibility heavy in his hands.

  “Alerie,” Nickolas murmured softly, tapping his staff against his chest, preparing to take off into the unknown. However, before he could leap into action, Bucrok stepped forward, his eyes blazing with determination.

  “Take me with you,” he insisted, his tone leaving little room for negotiation as he let go of Nita’s arm.

  “Absolutely not! You are no longer an adventurer. You’re a father and a husband now,” Nita interjected passionately, grasping Bucrok’s arm in a desperate plea. The fear of losing him amplified her words.She thought of their daughter growing up without her father and it terrified her.

  “I have no intention of perishing, so ease your worries, my love. I owe Nickolas more than I can express for his countless save-alls on the battlefield. Besides,” he added, a warm smile softening his rugged demeanor, “I haven’t met my defeat until I crossed paths with you.” Her face turned cherry red with embarrassment as she punched Bucrok in the arm. He let out a hearty laugh and the tension lessened for a moment.

  “I’m serious!” She said with a pout. Her arms now crossed. Bucrok stopped laughing and leaned over to her inches away from her face.

  “I will make it back to you. You’re my strength and our daughter is my purpose.”

  “That’s right, and let’s ensure it stays that way. Just promise me you won’t act recklessly, and if things get too dangerous, I want you back here immediately," she countered, her voice laced with earnest concern, an unyielding worry etched across her face.

  “Alright then, I’ll go tell the patrons the kitchen is closed—” But before Bucrok could finish his sentence, a small voice interrupted, stopping him cold.

  “Daddy?” a small, tremulous voice interrupted, halting the burly orc in his tracks, causing his heart to lurch. He turned toward the tavern just in time to see a tiny half-orc girl standing next to the shattered door frame, her wide, soft orange eyes shimmering with emotion. Unlike him, she bore no tusks, her small mouth unmarked by the fierce traits often associated with orcs. Dressed in an oversized cooking apron draped over her petite form, the little girl’s face was a blend of innocence colored with worry as tears began to trickle silently down her cheeks. “Please don’t leave!” she whimpered, her voice fragile yet filled with desperation. In that moment, Bucrok understood the gravity of the situation—the tug between duty and the love he bore for his family weighing heavily on his heart.

  “Mommy, I'm scared! Daddy, why did you run out of the kitchen? Why did it hurt to breathe?” The terrified little girl's voice trembled, her questions becoming increasingly muffled and indistinct beneath the relentless waves of her sobs. Nita dashed over, scooping her daughter into her embrace, rocking her gently like a fragile treasure, all the while patting her back in a soothing rhythm. Bucrok, however, stood there, his jaw clenched tighter than a rusty nut on a well-used bolt. Awkwardly he turned his back to his family in helplessness, unable to provide the comfort they so desperately needed at that moment.

  “Hold tight, I’ll be back,” Bucrok said with an air of determination. He shot up a fist as he spoke but didn't turn around to meet his family’s gaze. His daughter happened to stop crying at the moment of hearing her father speak and looked up to see a proud orc with a fist outstretched. It turned her fear and worry into hope as she knew her daddy wouldn’t lie to her. A tear left Nita’s eyes as she watched her husband but she refused to speak. She felt anything else she would say to him to convince him to say otherwise would be fruitless. He gave a quick nod to Nickolas, who returned the gesture.

  “Alerie,” Nickolas spoke out as he tapped Bucrok’s broad chest. In an instant, a shimmer of magic enveloped Bucrok, lifting him off his feet and into the ethereal embrace of the sky. Nickolas, with a firm grip under Bucrok’s massive arms, began to rise, a partnered ascent into the unknown.