35. Claire

35

CLAIRE

T he air inside the cave is thick with the acrid stench of smoke, and the glow of the raging fire dances across the faces of the villagers, casting long, twisted shadows on the walls. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch the chaos unfold. The heat of the flames is a cruel mimicry of the warmth we'd hoped to share on this Christmas Eve.

Around me, the villagers are in a state of pandemonium, their shouts echoing off the stone walls of our makeshift sanctuary. The fire spreads rapidly, consuming the few belongings we managed to bring with us. "It was me," a voice cuts through the chaos, heavy with guilt. I turn to see Samuel, a man I've taught and trusted, stepping forward with his head bowed. "I told the Icefang clan where we were. I did it to save my family!"

My heart plummets. Betrayal is a bitter poison, seeping into the cracks of our fragile community. Angry shouts erupt as the villagers close in on Samuel, their faces contorted with rage. "How could you do this?!" they scream, their fists flying. Each word is a punch to the gut, a reminder of the fragility of our existence.

Samuel crumples under the impact of their outrage, his body convulsing with each blow. "You've doomed us all!" they scream.

I should feel something—anger, perhaps, or a sense of profound disappointment—but all I can think about is Thrag. My Thrag, out there facing an enemy that shouldn't have found us, all because of a selfish act of desperation.

"Stop!" I shout, my voice barely audible over the din of the crowd. "We need to help Thrag!"

But my words are lost in the frenzy, their focus solely on the traitor in their midst. I push through the throng of bodies, my gaze fixed on the cave's entrance. I can't just stand here while the man I love fights for our lives.

Outside, he's facing down the Icefang orcs, his life hanging by a thread. I can't bear the thought of losing him, not when we've just found each other in this bleak, unforgiving world. I need to get to him, to stand by his side.

Suddenly, a firm hand grips my arm, pulling me back. "Claire, you can't go out there!" Elder Vincent exclaims, his voice stern. "It's too dangerous!" His eyes are filled with concern.

"Let me go!" I scream. My voice is sharp, a blade slicing through the cacophony.

I wrench my arm away, my resolve hardening with each passing second. "I won't let Thrag face them alone," I say, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at my insides.

I rush towards the cave entrance. The din of battle outside the cave dwindles to an eerie silence so abruptly that it sends a shiver down my spine. My heart, which had been pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribcage, now seems to skip a beat altogether. I push past the villagers, their faces etched with fear and uncertainty, and emerge into the cold, crisp air of the night.

There, in the clearing ahead, lies Thrag in the snow. My heart plummets at the sight of him, his massive form so still, so silent. Blood pools beneath him, a stark contrast to the white blanket of snow. "No!" I scream, the sound tearing from my throat as I run and drop to my knees beside him.

His breaths come shallow and ragged, each one a battle in itself. I cradle his head in my lap, my hands trembling as I brush hair away from his face. "Thrag, you can't leave me," I whisper, my voice breaking with emotion.

The villagers soon gather around us, their murmurs a low hum in the background. Elder Vincent steps forward, his face a mask of grief. "He's too far gone," he says, his voice heavy with regret. "We can't save him."

A murmur of agreement ripples through the crowd, their eyes dark with resignation. "We have no supplies," one of them says. "It's best to end his suffering."

My heart rebels against their words, a surge of anger and desperation welling up within me. "You can't just give up on him!" I cry out, my gaze sweeping over the faces of those I once considered my people. "He fought for us. We owe him this."

But my pleas fall on deaf ears. A group of men suddenly steps forward. My blood runs cold as I realize their intent. "Stop!" I scream loudly, tightening my hold on Thrag. "You're not going to kill him!"

Despite my protests, they manage to pry Thrag from my arms, their movements rough and uncaring. I cling to him desperately, my nails digging into the fabric of his tunic, but they pull him quickly away.

"Where are you taking him?" I plead, tears streaming down my face.

They ignore my question, their determination unwavering as they carry him away from the clearing, into the dark embrace of the forest. I scramble quickly to my feet, my heart pounding with desperation as I chase after them.

"You can't let him die!" I scream relentlessly, my voice echoing through the still night air.

The forest is a labyrinth of shadows, the moonlight filtering through the canopy above to cast eerie patterns on the snow-covered ground. I follow the trail of blood, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as I struggle to keep up with the men.

Finally, they stop, their bodies silhouetted against the backdrop of the forest. I rush toward them, my hands outstretched in a silent plea. "Please," I beg, my voice barely above a whisper. "There has to be another way."

One of the men turns to face me, his eyes hard and unyielding. "Claire," he says, his tone almost apologetic. "He's suffering. It's a mercy to end it."

I shake my head, my mind racing as I search for a solution. "No," I insist, my voice steadfast. "There's always hope. We can't just give up on him."