8

The once-blue sky smoldered with a sour orange haze while thousands of orcs sat waiting. All were dressed in freshly-polished armor with freshly-sharpened weapons at the ready. Though they remained quiet, an agitated aura hung over them.

Astride her riding wolf among the members of the Frostwolf clan, Sync, like the other orcs, stared up at an immense, elaborate structure known as the Dark Portal. It was a terrifying masterwork of orc-wrought masonry, flanked by two huge carved figures with glowing eyes and crowned by a monstrous serpent. Discomforting green swirls marked the empty air at the center of the portal. If Sync looked up, the orange haze annoyed her. If she looked ahead, the swirling darkness of the portal nauseated her. If she looked anywhere else, all she saw were orcs with their unnatural green skin. Sync could find no place to focus her vision that did not cause her to twitch.

The clans had come together at this portal under orders from Blackhand, the first warchief of the Horde. Blackhand led this new alliance of orcs with help from his chief adviser, Gul'dan, who had introduced the clans to a tremendous power that some said came from demons. This power had allowed them to destroy their greatest enemies, the Draenei, but had brought with it another devastating effect. It had also destroyed the land.

When the portal was complete, Gul'dan sent a scouting party through it to what he said was a new world. The orcs were starving on this failing planet, and Gul'dan promised them a place with food and water, a living land where they would find glory and honor. Sync was not convinced of Gul'dan's promises. The man annoyed her just as much as the irritating orange haze. She could barely sit still, and her wolf fidgeted in response. Catching her husband's eye, Sync motioned toward the one comfort she had left in this dying world: the counsel of the Warsong chieftain. Gordost nodded and followed her as she kneed her riding wolf in the direction of Grom.

The Warsong chieftain managed half a smile at her. The immense power that came from the demons had turned the orcs' hearty brown skin a sickly green. But Grom had gone farther. Like most of the clan chieftains, he had drunk of the demon's blood to gain even greater power and now his eyes blazed a blistering red. Sync had to force herself to swallow her own revulsion when she looked at Grom, yet she knew he was still Grom. Underneath it all, he was still the strong, fearless Warsong she had known all her life. And his wisdom was what

she needed now.

"You must come with us," Sync said.

Grom seemed to squirm. "Gul'dan made it quite clear he wishes the Warsong clan to remain on Draenor."

"Gul'dan is not the warchief. Why do you listen to him? We need you. This new world - we have no idea what it will be like, what opposition we will meet. We need your strength. Without you and the Warsong, the Horde will fail."

Grom's brow drew into heavy lines. "You're letting fear get the better of you."

"What if we go through this portal and never come back?"

Grom walked up to Sync's wolf, scratching the animal's neck. "Were you scared when we took Shattrath City?"

"Terrified."

"And you fought anyway. Even when Harcos was killed, you kept fighting." He inclined his head toward Gordost. "Were you scared when you and this Frostwolf ran off together from Kosh'harg?"

Her face softened as she gazed at her husband. "I was terrified then, too."

One corner of Gordost's mouth turned up. "So was I."

Grom raised an eyebrow. "And were you scared the day you fell in the river, trying to catch up with me and Harcos?"

She responded with an embarrassed laugh. "No. I was too busy trying to catch you."

Several loud yells came from the portal. The scouting party had returned. They brought with them freshly-butchered animals and tales of a land with pure water and plentiful wholesome food, waiting for them. The orcs would have a future after all. All they need do was step through the portal, and it was theirs. The gathered Horde cheered triumphantly. Sync frowned. How could they rejoice when there was so much unknown?

Grom rested his fingers on Sync's leg to get her attention. "Remember you are a Warsong. You are strong and tough and proud."

"They are calling us," Gordost broke in. "Sync?"

She glanced at her husband, then back at Grom. "Please, Grom. Please come with us."

Grom shook his head. "You go, and you show those humans how powerful orcs can be. And find us a new land - a good land - where we can live again."

"Grom - "

The chieftain took a step back and raised his heavy-bladed axe to the miscolored sky. "Lok'tar!" Throwing his head back, he broke the hazy air with his thunderous scream.

A shiver rippled down her spine. Grom may not have looked like the boy she remembered, but the hellscream was always the same. Its raw volume flooded her soul, making her heart beat faster, buttressing her hopes. They could do it. They were Warsong. They were orcs.

"Victory!" she shouted back.

Grom grinned proudly, his eyes luminous. "Ancestors watch over you!"

Then Sync kicked her wolf and the animal loped off after Gordost's larger mount. Sync glanced back once to raise her hand toward Grom. He raised his own hand in response.

"Ancestors watch over you, too," she said softly. Then, riding by Gordost's side, following his clan, Sync swallowed her fears and plunged into whatever fate lay beyond the portal.