3. Gorthak

3

GORTHAK

T he sea air whips through my dreads as I haul in the net, the weight of the catch straining my muscles. But it's not the physical exertion that's got me distracted. It's her. The human from my dream. Her eyes, full of fire and defiance, are seared into my memory.

"Boss, we're running low on supplies," Kogan grunts, interrupting my thoughts. He's a stout orc, with a thick beard that hides most of his face. "We might need to make a stop soon."

I grunt in response, my mind still elsewhere. The dream had felt so real, like a memory that I couldn't quite place. It was as if I had known her, this human woman, in another life.

"Gorthak, you listening?" Kogan's voice snaps me back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you," I say, my voice gruff. "We'll make a stop when we need to."

Kogan nods and goes back to work, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something more to this dream. It's not just the woman, but the place as well. The manor, the basement, the cages. It all feels too familiar.

I decide to retire to my cabin early, hoping that some rest will clear my head. As I make my way below deck, the ring on my finger catches the light, casting a faint green glow. A strange thing to find in a fishing net, but maybe Burguk had a point when he said I should sell it.

But I don't want to , I decide, clunking my way inside and closing the door with a thud.

Laying back, I close my eyes and let the rocking of the boat lull me to sleep.

.

As the dream starts, I find myself in the same room as before. No time to waste. I charge through the door, my heavy boots thudding against the wooden floor. The manor is eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of screams. I follow the cries, my heart pounding in my chest.

It's as if I'm reliving the same dream all over again. The same twists and turns, the same dark corridors. But this time, I'm not confused. I'm angry. Angry at the dark elves who dare to imprison this woman.

The screams grow louder as I descend the stairs to the basement. My skin prickles with unease, which is not an easy feat against an ex-mercenary orc, but I push forward.

And then I see her. She's standing in a cage, dressed in rags that barely cover her body. Her hair is a wild mess of curls, and her eyes are blazing with fury. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

I can't help but feel a surge of pride at her bravery. Despite being caged and mistreated, she hasn't lost her spirit. It's a quality that I admire, one that I can't help but be drawn to.

The dark elves surrounding her are closing in, their hands reaching through the bars, trying to snatch her. But she's not surrendering without a struggle. She's lashing out, her screams echoing in the damp basement. Her fists, clenched in defiance, are a stark contrast to her frail appearance.

"She's quite the feisty one today, isn't she?" one of the dark elf bastards remarks with a wicked grin. He's leaning against the cold stone wall, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with amused interest.

Another chuckles darkly and says, "I prefer them that way." He steps closer to the cage, reaching out to touch her wild curls. She recoils, snarling like a cornered beast.

A third sneers, smacking the bars with a bony hand. "I don't. She needs to learn her place." The malice in his glare curdles my blood. "And I'm more than happy to put her there."

The way they speak about her infuriates me. I've never been one to care for human women, or any other beings for that matter. Mercenary work never allowed for such distractions. But there's something about her that ignites a primal urge within me, a desire to protect her from any harm that may come her way.

The thought of anyone daring to threaten her fills me with an uncontrollable rage. An urge I haven't felt in a long time rises up from the depths of my anger, and I find that I would very much like to see how the walls look when painted with the blood of their dismembered corpses.

I take a step forward, my hand instinctively reaching for the battle-axe on my back. The sight of her caged up like an animal triggers something primal within me. But before I can do anything, she looks at me.

Our eyes meet and my skin comes alive. It's as if a jolt of electricity has passed through me. I've never felt anything like it before. I expect to be kicked out of the dream like last time, but I'm not. Instead, I'm rooted to the spot, unable to tear my gaze away from her.

Again, my eyes gaze upon her body. She's skinny, a little too skinny, but it's clear that she's naturally petite. Despite that, her body has the potential for delicious curves. The idea of that makes me want to nurse her to health, get her nice and plump for my pleasure.

Her brown curls are tangled, wild, but they give her an allure that I can't resist. I take another step toward her, drawn in by her fiery spirit. Her eyes, fuck, those eyes. They're a deep brown, full of fire and defiance. They're the kind of eyes that could make a man do stupid things.

I can't help but wonder what her lips would taste like. Would they be soft and yielding, or would she bite back? Either way, I'm willing to find out. I take another step closer.

At last, we both appear to snap out of our trance-like state. Without hesitation, she belts out a desperate cry for help. "Help! Please help me!"

The elves whip their heads in my direction, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. They waste no time sprinting toward me, intent on cutting me off before I can reach her. But as soon as their fingers brush against my skin, my eyes fly open and I'm back in my cabin.

"No!" I roar lividly. "No, damn it!"

What the fuck is going on with me?