Book One – Chapter 14

Nagrak immediately scrambled down from the ledge, desperate to return to the Snowtrail before the light vanished completely. By the time he gained secure footing, Gorak was already standing with the orichs. Bayazak was preparing the boulder prison for transport. Nagrak had seen him work magic like this before — moving massive stones as though they were no heavier than wapa wool.

Racing the encroaching darkness, Nagrak stumbled forward in frantic haste, his wiry limbs flailing through the deep snow. He had barely managed a few steps before his foot caught on something buried beneath the white expanse. The sudden tug threw him off balance, and he tumbled forward, plunging headfirst into the freezing drift. The world turned muffled and suffocating, the snow pressing in on every side. His claws scrambled against the icy layers, forcing the dense powder away from his face with the precision of someone all too familiar with such indignities. By instinct, he fought off the immediate threat of suffocation, pushing himself up to his knees, gasping for air that stung his lungs with its coldness.

The last thing he saw before the darkness overtook him was a detail so unassuming yet familiar it struck him like a drumbeat: the feet of a fallen warrior, Ulruk. Nagrak recognised them instantly, even half-buried beneath the snow. From his underfoot perspective – so often stomped upon, dodging blows, or bowing his head in submission – he had developed a quite peculiar talent for identifying his fellow orks by their feet and boots. And there lay Ulruk, or what little was visible of him. Nagrak hesitated for a fraction of a moment, but not for grief or indecision —

There it was. Half-buried amid the snow and scattered ork remains lay something long and unnatural, a twisted formation of intertwining roots. It was the last thing he saw before the Full Dark rushed over him and consumed the battlefield from one end of the horizon to the other. Surrounded by black and storm, Nagrak’s pulse thundered in his ears, each beat echoing louder than the howling winds that now grew ever more distant, smothered by the raising surges of his ecstasy.