Book One – Chapter 14

But Nagrak did not know these stories, nor did he bother with such potential perspectives on recovering relics and riches. Such mundane hopes belonged to scavengers that were shackled by the trivial concerns of wealth. These thoughts were irrelevant for a true Haraak and had no hold on Nagrak. He was consumed with the divine, the inevitable pull of fate that had guided every step of his life.

Yes, he was convinced that the mountain had chosen him. For this moment, the mountain had chosen him — No, in fact, it was the other way around: Nagrak had always been the chosen one, and now, at last, the mountain had chosen THE. MOMENT. to reveal his grand destiny.

When destiny called, you did not question its origin, its danger, or its intent. Nagrak, with the kind of blind certainty that only a true believer could muster, did not hesitate to interpret divine will and answer. With the appearance of the staff, he was utterly certain that the mountain had withheld the awakening of his abilities until now because he was destined for more than just the power of gems. His destiny was not merely to become an orich but to transcend even that — to be one of a kind, something greater, a figure of legend. He would not just wield the power of the mountain’s gems but also the artefacts of wizards. Perhaps it was his destiny to unite these conflicting forces, to bridge the gap between ork and wizard magic, between the Albweiss and the arcane, to deliver his horde and all orks from the shadow of witches and wizards forever.

He would be the first and only to wield all magic.

With trembling hands but unshakeable conviction, his fingers felt for the twisted wood. In the Full Dark, Nagrak the Runt grabbed for his destiny — but then, destiny seized him in return.

The instant his palm closed around the staff, the wooden lattice writhed beneath his grasp, the intricate weave of roots coming alive as though the staff had not yet recognised its new master. Before Nagrak could react, the staff coiled upward, slithering over his hand and onto his arm. Its movement was deliberate and serpentine, tightening like a predator. He felt the sharp sting as the roots pierced his skin, burrowing into the flesh of his forearm, their jagged ends rooting themselves deep within him.