"How about you, dears? Do you want to be the version of yourself that you want to be?"
The Old Hag's mocking question slithered into their ears like a curse.
The Orcs roared in defiance, tusks bared, but even among them, fear rippled through the line. The older warriors knew the stories—the ones whispered around campfires about this creature who could twist souls and steal memories.
The younger Orcs, however, had never been told the full truth. They mistook her eerie smile for arrogance rather than the omen it was.
"Don't listen to a single word she says," Orakh barked. His voice carried authority but not confidence. "Mistaking her madness for mercy is a mistake no one survives. Keep your guard up, all of you!"
"No worries," Ren said lightly, his tone sharp beneath the humor. "I like my body just the way it is."
For a brief second, Orakh turned toward him—his expression shifting from stern to baffled, then to dread. He didn't answer. His silence spoke louder than any words.
