The two brothers were almost to the wall when the skulls flew overhead.

“Make them stop!” cried Harruq Tun, hands pressed against his ears. Beside him, Qurrah Tun stood mesmerized by the sight. Hundreds of skulls bathed in purple fire sailed over the walls of Veldaren like dark comets. They shrieked mindless wails from gaping mouths, voices cold and resonant. A few soldiers fired arrows, but most hid behind their shields.

“Why do you cower?” Qurrah asked, striking his brother on the shoulder. “The skulls are nuisances, nothing more.”

“Sorry,” said Harruq. He shivered as a skull dipped down above them, its shriek turning to chaotic laughter. The sound ran up and down his spine, triggering fear no matter how irrational.

Qurrah watched as if immune to their sound. He was so much smaller than Harruq, his slender body wrapped in rags, flesh thin meat clinging to bone; yet he was unafraid. Shame and embarrassment burned in Harruq’s cheeks. He towered over his brother, his hands beefy and arms muscular. Nothing should scare him. He was supposed to be Qurrah’s protector, not the other way around.

“Where can we climb up?” Harruq asked, hoping to get his mind off the skulls.

“There,” Qurrah pointed. A narrow set of stairs climbed to the parapet and Harruq led the way. The city gates were lost in the distance, city guards clustered about them.

“Look,” Harruq said. “Orcs.”

He spoke the word with an odd reverence, but they both understood. Unlike the humans, the two brothers’ skin was dark and tinged with gray, their ears long and curled to a point. They were half-orcs, tainted blood and condemned for it. The people of Veldaren hurled the word at them like a dagger, but in truth, neither had ever seen a full orc before.

“Now we’ll finally see,” Qurrah said, “what we are, what we are meant to be.”