Page 75 of Orc's Veil

“You like it.”

I do. Gods help me, I do.

It isin the quiet before sleep that I notice the first true difference.

Not the silver in my blood, not the shimmer that has settled into my skin. Something simpler. The hunger I feel isn’t quite like mortal hunger—not the gnawing of a missed meal, but a low pull that the Veil itself answers, feeding warmth directly into my blood. I breathe, and the boundary breathes with me. I rest, and it is less like falling into darkness and more like retreating into a hum—a tide going out, slow and certain, already knowing it will return.

We’re not gods. We’re not wholly mortal either. We eat, we sleep, we bleed—but the Veil sustains us now in ways that food and rest alone never could. We will not age as long as the boundary stands. We are what we made ourselves: the boundary given voice and will.

I press my palm over Varkhul’s heart, feel the claiming mark pulse steady against my hand. Two rhythms. One boundary.

It’s enough.

I close my eyes.

I waketo the sound of the Veil singing.

It’s a low hum, barely audible, vibrating through the cottage walls and into my bones. The barrier is alive—truly alive now, not just a magical construct but a living thing woven from our blood and sacrifice. And it’s calling to us.

Varkhul stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist. “I feel it.”

“A breach?”

“No. Just… awareness.” He sits up, and I mourn the loss of his warmth against my back. “It knows we’re awake. It’s been waiting.”

We dress quickly—me in a clean shift I find in the chest by the bed, him in the ruined remains of his armor. He helps me with the laces at my back, his fingers brushing my skin in ways that make me shiver despite the lack of cold.

“We’ll need to find you new clothes,” I say, turning to face him. “New everything.”

He looks down at himself—the torn leather, the dented plates, the blood that’s dried to brown across his chest. “This armor served me for twenty years.”

“It served the order for twenty years.” I step close, press my palm to his chest where the brand pulses with shared power. “You serve yourself now. Serve us. You deserve armor that reflects that.”

He captures my hand, lifts it to his lips. Presses a kiss to my knuckles that makes my heart flutter despite everything we’ve already done. “We’ll figure it out. For now—the stones are calling.”

But first, the stones.

They rise against the lightening sky, taller than I remember. Or maybe I’m just seeing them differently now—seeing the power that flows through them, the ancient magic that predates the Sovereign and the order and everything I thought I knew about the Veil.

The boundary responds to our presence. Warmth flows up through my bare feet, spreading through my new form like sunlight after a long winter. The stones pulse in greeting—not cold and impersonal like they used to be, but alive. Welcoming.

“It’s different,” Varkhul says quietly. He’s standing at the edge of the circle, and for the first time since I’ve known him, the Veil isn’t recoiling from his presence. His orc blood—once poison to the barrier—is part of its foundation now. The curse has become a blessing.

“We’re different.” I walk to the central stone—the one I’ve bled on a thousand times—and press my palm to its surface. Power flows between us, barrier and guardian, a circuit completed at last. “I don’t have to cut myself anymore.”

“The silver blood.”

“Not just that.” I pull my hand back, watching the faint glow fade from the stone. “The Veil and I are the same thing now. It doesn’t need my blood—just my presence is enough to sustain the structure. Travelers still pay a crossing tithe; that’sthe boundary’s price for passage, not my price for keeping it standing.”

He crosses to me, wraps his arms around me from behind. I lean into his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart against my back. We fit like this—his massive frame curved around my smaller one, protecting and possessing and simply holding.

“The order will come,” he says. His voice is calm, but I feel tension coil in his body. “When they learn what happened here. They’ll send executioners.”

“Let them.” I turn in his arms, face him. “We are the Veil now. Anyone who threatens the boundary threatens us. And we’ve already proven we can kill gods.”

His lips twitch. “You’re bloodthirsty this morning.”

“I learned from the best.” I rise on my toes and kiss him—brief, fierce, a promise of violence and love in equal measure. “We’ll face them when they come. For now, there’s only this.”