Chapter 1

Drokhar

I grip the heavy stone, feeling its jagged edges bite into my palms. The sun beats down, turning sweat into a river along my back as I hoist it onto my shoulder. 

“Move it, brute!” The dark elf noble’s voice pierces the air like a whip crack. His lips curl into a sneer, eyes narrowed at me and the other orcs laboring nearby.

I shift my weight and push forward, each step a battle against the ache in my muscles. Just beyond him, two elven women drape themselves against each other, giggling as if his words are pearls of wisdom instead of taunts. They lean closer, whispering like birds, their laughter hollow but sweet to his ears.

“What is that one doing?” One woman tosses her platinum hair over her shoulder, eyeing me with feigned concern. “He’ll break his back for nothing.”

“Or for scraps,” the noble replies with a chuckle. “Look at them. Just strong enough to work but too dull to think.”

I grit my teeth. I keep my head down, focus on the stone that feels heavier with every insult tossed my way. Orcs are nothing more than tools to these elves—muscle meant for their whims and amusement.

The noble laughs again, a cruel sound that reverberates through me like thunder.

“You should thank your lucky stars you’re not on your knees begging for scraps from our tables,” he says to no one in particular.

My hands tremble with fury as I set down the stone near a half-erect wall made of dark granite—smooth and perfectly aligned, as if shaped by hands more skilled than mine could ever be.

The other orcs grunt and strain around me; some grunt in response to his jeering while others simply remain silent—staring straight ahead as if that might shield them from scorn.

I can’t shake the feeling that they enjoy this—seeing us toil while they bask in their so-called superiority. They wield chaos magic like a child wields a toy—a show of power over those deemed lesser.

“Drokhar!” The noble barks again. “You’re falling behind! Pick up the pace!”

A rush of heat floods my chest. I glance at him; he wears fine robes that flow like water while I’m draped in rough cloth stained with dirt and labor's sweat. 

The women giggle again; they flutter about him like moths drawn to flame—distracted by jewels instead of realizing they hover around decay.

I grab another stone, forcing it onto my shoulder despite the burn in my muscles. As I march back to the pile, resentment swells within me.

I shift my weight again, feeling the rough stone press against my shoulder. Each step sinks deeper into the muck of my thoughts. These elves—these so-called noble beings—are perfectly capable of using their chaos magic to raise their grand homes without lifting a finger. But they choose not to. They revel in our toil, deriving pleasure from watching us struggle under the weight of their whims.

The sun begins its descent, casting long shadows that stretch across the worksite like dark fingers reaching for the horizon. I can almost hear their laughter echoing in my mind as I labor, chipping away at this pointless addition to their already overblown estate.

The sound of laughter pulls me from my thoughts. A pair of elves stand at the edge of the site, exchanging whispers while tossing glances our way. Their eyes sparkle with amusement, as if they are watching a jester perform. It gnaws at me—a constant reminder that we are little more than beasts to them.

I grunt as I set down another stone and wipe the sweat from my brow with a grimy forearm. The heat wraps around me like a noose, tightening with every passing minute. I need to finish this before darkness claims the day and before I lose what little patience remains within me.

Finally, as the sun dips below the horizon. We line up like cattle, weary and worn, each orc shuffling forward in silence. My heart pounds in my chest as I approach the noble seated behind a makeshift table—a lowly lord in his grand estate.

He looks up from his ledger with a smirk twisting his lips. “Drokhar,” he drawls, dragging out my name as if it tastes sour on his tongue.

I keep my gaze fixed on the ground but feel his eyes bore into me. He hands over a few tarnished coins—barely enough to buy scraps for supper—and chuckles.

“Lucky to even have coin,” he sneers, flipping through pages of gold-stamped transactions that reflect lives lived far removed from mine.

My fists clench at my sides as I force myself not to react. A flicker of rage stirs deep within me; it burns like fire but is snuffed out by despair's heavy weight. How far have we fallen? My clan once wielded magic—once struck fear into our enemies and commanded respect wherever we tread.

“Did you think you’d get more?” The elf’s voice cuts through me like ice, filled with mockery and disdain.

I grind my teeth together and step back from the table without responding. Their arrogance feeds on our pain; it empowers them while we struggle just to survive another day under their rule.

As I leave the line, shadows stretch further across our tired forms—gloom settling heavily upon us like a funeral shroud.

The gods have abandoned us; that’s what everyone says—the reason why we lost our magic and our might. They claim we’ve become less worthy than before when once we were powerful and revered. 

But I can’t accept that belief—not entirely. The elves revel in their false superiority while they wield power without thought for those who serve them. Their gods may smile upon them now, but every time an orc labors beneath an elven lash, I know deep down there’s a darkness lurking behind their bright eyes—a flicker of fear they hide beneath layers of pride.

With each step away from that table laden with mockery, anger churns inside me—a storm ready to break free against everything these nobles represent: oppression and entitlement wrapped tightly in one fine package adorned with jewels and silks.

I breathe deeply and steady myself against an ancient tree's gnarled trunk nearby—a remnant of better days when strength ruled over magic lost and cowardice disguised itself as nobility.

And while I keep my head down now among these proud elven walls... 

One day... one day they’ll remember who truly holds strength.