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From beneath the barren, twisted soil of the Orzaroth realm, a slender, jet-black hand clawed its way through the ground, talons scraping against loose stone with a sharp scrrrrk.

The hand rose higher, soon revealing a forearm cloaked in a midnight shimmer, and then a shoulder, as an entire figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the earth.

She was tall, slender yet powerful, her silhouette both elegant and predatory.

This was Urza'lin, the Sorceress of the Void and warrior of the Dark Elves from the upper realm, now exiled to the depths of Orzaroth.

As she rose to her full height, Urza'lin stood still, catching her breath, though her face twisted into an expression of disdain.

Her dark, piercing eyes narrowed as she muttered, voice dripping with resentment. "That damned... Orc." Her hand clenched, talons digging into her palm as she spoke aloud, her words thick with venom.

"Almost bested me… me, Urza'lin! To think that savage beast had the audacity—no, the strength—to challenge my might."

The memories of her battle in that cursed catacomb flickered in her mind like jagged shards of broken glass.

She saw Volk, his twisted, monstrous Horde at his back, tearing through her defenses with brutal force.

His sneering face haunted her, and she spat in disgust. "He nearly killed me, that… beast. How? An Orc—no, an Ogre-Orc hybrid of some sort were usually normal but that Orc, something unnatural, he has something unnatural, twisted."

Urza'lin's eyes darkened as she recalled the reason she had even found herself weakened in the first place.

It had been an unfortunate turn of events—she had been in the midst of her preparations to storm the warlocks' stronghold, her own strength reaching a pinnacle when she first encountered Volk. But something went wrong—no, someone interfered.

Her eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching.

She would never forget that fateful ambush from the upper realm's Hunters, those detestable, so-called "peacekeepers."

It was they who had wounded her, driving her to a point of desperation and then being sent on a mission to subdue Orcs because it would be easy…

"Easy my ass," she cursed.

Now, that ease had forced her retreat into the lower realms.

Urza'lin tone grew bitter, resentful. "Forced me down here, to these disgusting, savage lands. Stripped of my status, of all my magic… of my control."

The memory of her power, now diminished and scattered, gnawed at her pride.

She had come to the lower realms with a mission—to enslave and unite the savage Orcs under her banner, to rally them in an unstoppable army against the warlocks who had opposed her.

She had planned to use the Orcs' brute strength to overwhelm the magic of those damnable warlocks, to watch them crumble under her forces. And yet… here she was, trapped and vulnerable.

Urza'lin clenched her fists, feeling the dirt crumble between her fingers as her anger simmered.

"This was not the way it was meant to go," she muttered, her voice cold and vengeful.

"I should have enslaved those brutes and wiped out every warlock in my way. But instead, I was thrown into battle unprepared, weakened, humiliated. And that thing—"

She spat, thinking of Volk's snarling face once more. "—had the audacity to stand against me."

Her gaze hardened, determination burning anew in her eyes. She would not let this setback defeat her.

No, she would rise from this pit, stronger than ever. She knew the way back to the upper realms—albeit difficult, the path was not impossible. But she needed power to forge it.

She needed strength, an army, and absolute control.

"First," Urza'lin muttered to herself, the bitterness in her voice replaced with a dark, hungry ambition. "I must gather an army." Her gaze flickered with malice as she envisioned her next steps.

"Find those Elves lurking in the shadows… twist them to my will. Break every Orc Ogre that comes my way." She chuckled coldly, the sound echoing in the empty silence. "By using their elven wives or symbiotic mates here… well, they'll make perfect leverage."

A cruel smile tugged at her lips as her plan unfurled in her mind, taking on a twisted clarity.

"Yes… I'll use them against their mates. Make them watch as their kin fall in line beneath my power, their hearts torn and broken, helpless to do anything but serve." Explore hidden tales at empire

Urza'lin's eyes gleamed with malevolent satisfaction.

The Orcs were a prideful, stubborn species, their wills strong, but that only made it all the more exhilarating. She would grind down that pride, one by one, until they bowed at her feet.

"I'll have them all in chains, groveling before me… or dead. Or worse, I'll force them to male children and then sacrifice those disgusting mutts!"

With each word, her vision became clearer, each step of her plan meticulously crafted.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She muutered.

"I'll build my strength here, find out exactly what realm I've landed in… Orzaroth, or whatever they call it. Find every opportunity, every ally or slave I can exploit."

She narrowed her eyes, surveying the barren landscape, taking in the harsh, twisted land around her.

"I'll tear through it, bend it to my will. Then, when I've gathered enough strength, enough bodies in my horde, I'll return. And I'll wipe those warlocks from existence. They won't stand a chance."

She paused, savoring the satisfaction that came with the thought.

She could almost see it now: the broken forms of her enemies, the elves and Orcs alike, begging for mercy they would never receive. But first… the immediate task at hand.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Her eyes roamed the desolate landscape, calculating and cold. She needed to understand where she was, to scout this unknown realm.

"If there are Elves," she said aloud, voice dripping with scorn, "I will find them. And I'll crush any resistance they have to offer." Her voice softened, but the threat hung heavy in the air. "This realm… it's nothing but my stepping stone. Every creature here will bow before me."

Taking one final, calming breath, Urza'lin steeled herself, mentally preparing for the long journey ahead. But as she stared into the uncharted depths of Orzaroth, her mind spun with schemes, dark fantasies of conquest and revenge.

She would turn this realm upside down.

And when she had what she needed, when the warlocks lay in ruin and her Hunters lay in graves, her vengeance would be complete.

Not long, Urza'lin stalked into the dark forest, her eyes narrowed, body tense as she slipped between twisted trees and thick, choking vines.

The forest was alive with the faint, unsettling sounds of nocturnal creatures prowling unseen—snapping branches, the rustle of leaves, the occasional eerie whisper of wings slicing through the damp night air.

Yet despite her keen hearing and sharpened instincts, she couldn't pin down a single creature.

They were there, lurking just out of reach, but every time she turned, every time she poised herself to strike, there was nothing. Only the stillness of the shadowy trees.

Swish—a branch moved in the corner of her eye. Urza'lin spun around, teeth bared, only to find empty air. She exhaled sharply, fists tightening.

"These blasted lower-realm pests," she muttered, voice laced with contempt. She could feel them—just out of sight, slipping through the shadows, taunting her.

There was movement all around her, too swift and subtle for her to catch hold of.

Again, she whirled, her gaze sweeping the darkness, searching. Nothing but shadows.

Again and again, the faintest hint of movement teased her vision—shapes darting in the periphery of her sight, slithering through the blackness.

She bared her fangs, a curse hissing between them. "Cowardly creatures." She couldn't afford to waste her magic on mere scouting; she needed to preserve every precious drop she had left.

Her reserves had already been dangerously depleted during her last battle in the catacomb, and the energy she'd used to cast that final spell to banish the damned Elves alongside her had left her nearly drained.

She tightened her grip on the hilt of her dagger, knuckles white.

The forest was mocking her, it seemed.

Every rustle of leaves, every crack of a twig felt like a twisted joke at her expense. Her instincts screamed at her to attack, to lash out, to remind this cursed forest that she was no common prey.

But she couldn't.

Not yet.

Not until she understood what she was dealing with.

A whispering rustle to her left. She spun, her vision sharp, narrowed, focusing on the flicker of movement—but there was only darkness. It was maddening.

These creatures, whatever they were, were as elusive as shadows themselves. Her patience wore thin, and she growled, her voice a low snarl.

"I will find you, vermin. And when I do, I will rip you apart, piece by piece."

She moved cautiously, every step precise, silent. But again, as soon as she took another step, something darted at the edge of her vision.

She cursed, catching only the briefest flash of silver glinting in the moonlight before it vanished.

What in the void was this place hiding? She was no stranger to the unknown, but this was different.

The creatures in this realm, whatever they were, had a skill that disturbed her—evading her senses, slipping just beyond her grasp.

Her frustration grew with each passing second. She had been a predator in countless realms, bending beasts and men alike to her will.

This place, however, seemed to defy her power.

Here, she felt almost… vulnerable.

The thought clawed at her pride, a bitter reminder of her weakened state. She hated it, loathed every second of this indignity. But she couldn't afford to lose herself to fury.

She had to be cautious.

These creatures, though lower-realm spawn, could pose a danger in her current state.

A movement, closer this time, quick and sharp. Her senses flared, her body ready to strike—yet once more, the moment passed, and there was nothing.

"Damn you!" she spat, the words laced with venom. "Hiding in shadows like rats… I will find you. I will skin every last one of you if I must."

Her eyes burned as she searched, breath steady but laced with irritation. She knew she couldn't afford to waste more energy.

The spells she'd woven to banish the Elves alongside herself had drained her deeply, drawing from reserves she couldn't replenish in this cursed realm.

Even her most basic magic felt heavy, sluggish.

Here, the air was thick, almost hostile, leeching at her power.

She was no fool.

She would save her strength.

She could afford no more mistakes.

Urza'lin's senses remained sharp, attuned to the slightest hint of movement, every flicker of shadow.

She crept forward, her feet soundless on the soft earth, scanning her surroundings. Every brush of wind, every rustle of leaves, every whisper of unseen creatures prickled against her skin.

Yet each time she prepared herself to strike, they vanished, slipping through her grasp like smoke.

Her frustration grew, simmering beneath her calm, deliberate movements.

Minutes dragged by, each heartbeat thudding in her ears.

The sense of being watched—stalked—gnawed at her.

She knew she was not alone, knew she was not the only predator in these woods. But her vision, her senses betrayed her.

Her magic was all but spent, and the creatures, whatever they were, remained elusive.

She stopped, her chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths.

Silence blanketed the forest, and she stood, unmoving, her gaze sweeping over the twisted trees and darkened foliage. The creatures had stopped.

For now. But she knew they would return, lurking, taunting her.

Her fingers itched to tear into something solid, to remind this realm that she was no easy prey.

And then, without warning, she felt it—a shift, a tremor.

Her entire body stilled, her senses sharpened to a razor's edge.

The air grew colder, heavier, pressing down on her like an invisible weight.

She looked up, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the inky sky above.