Chapter 4: Borrowed Flesh, Borrowed Time

In popular media, ghosts came with a mixed bag of powers. Some could fly, others passed through walls, and a good number screamed in the dark just to make people wet themselves. Possession, though? That one was almost always there. I wouldn’t call myself a horror movie enthusiast. Truth be told, I low-key hated horror, but I’d watched enough pop culture to know the drill. Ghosts haunting people were the genre’s bread and butter. And now, it all made sense. That explained how I’d ended up inside the orc’s body, staring down at a terrified little girl with a weapon gripped in hands that weren’t mine.

“Dumb orc,” the elf sneered from across the room. “Can you not even do your job properly?”

I felt something stir at the back of my skull. It was a guttural roar without words, the original owner of this body thrashing for control. But he wasn’t strong enough. Or maybe he was just confused. Either way, I pushed him down and locked him out like slamming a door shut on a very angry dog.

The human male pointed his wand at me, irritation writ plain on his face. “Let’s get this over with. Mord, kill the girl.”

Mord. So that was the orc’s name. Nice to meet me.

I hesitated, not because of fear, but because I needed to figure out how to respond without blowing my cover. How did Orcs talk? Did they grunt? Did they smash words together like kindergarten cavemen? I had no idea what Mord's usual behavior was like, but I couldn’t waste the opportunity to stall and learn more about them.

I went with the simplest option. “Why?”

That single word came out low and rough, perfectly fitting for a creature whose throat felt like sandpaper and engine grease. I hoped it wouldn’t sound out of character.

The human rolled his eyes. “I know orcs have little wisdom and intelligence, but this is too much… I thought you were an exception, Mord. Just do what I tell you to do.”

“It’s part of the job, obviously,” the human woman added with a careless shrug. “It’s rare we get bounty quests this easy with such lucrative rewards, so just play along. It’s not like this is your first time killing someone in cold blood.”

Bounty quest. So they were mercenaries, or… something like it. I wished I could tap into Mord’s memories, maybe pull a quick download of who he was and how he acted, but I got nothing. The shell was hollow. It was just a body with instincts. I was flying blind, and every word I said risked unraveling the whole charade.

The human male stepped closer, wand still aimed, its glowing tip now pressing against my chest. “Just do it, Mord… Are you getting cold feet? Now, of all times?”

I gave him a shrug and tried a bluff. “The woman is already dead. What else do we need?”

The elf sighed dramatically. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m tired of pretending to be a bandit. It’s so unelegant. The leather is coarse, and I miss a good bath.”

“Just do it, Mord,” the man growled again. “We need to tie up loose ends.”

I could feel my time running out, but I kept pushing, hoping they’d give me something more. “I don’t want to do it,” I said quietly. “It’s just a little girl.”

The elf snorted. “Yeah, a witchspawn. Meaning she’ll grow up into a witch. And when that happens, she’ll want revenge. Then we all die miserable.”

That word… witchspawn? There was something about the way the elf said it, like it was more than just an insult. I leaned in.

“What is a witch?”

The question made the human woman frown. “What got into you? For an orc, you’re usually more eloquent…”

The man took a step back, visibly done with me. “If you’re not going to do it, then I will. And here I was hoping I could keep my hands a little bit clean for once—”

He never finished.

With no warning, I moved. The axe was already in motion, and in one clean, vicious swing, I took his head clean off. It hit the floor with a dull, wet thump, his body following a heartbeat later. The others froze not because of what I’d done, but how suddenly I’d done it.

The woman went for her daggers, but she wasn’t fast enough. I was already on her. My large, brutal hands found her skull before her blades cleared their sheaths. I squeezed, and bone crunched beneath my fingers like an overripe melon. Her dagger found my gut just before her head burst in my grip, and we both dropped, her body lifeless, while mine was gasping in pain.

Pain didn’t register the same way in this borrowed flesh, but I felt the dull heat spreading from the knife wound. Blood was blood, and orc or not, Mord was still mortal.

The elf, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. He had his bow in hand and let an arrow fly. I grabbed the woman’s body by the arm and hauled it into the way. The first arrow sank deep into her corpse. The second arrow followed soon after. It punched through my meat shield’s chest, through leather and bone, and buried itself in mine.

How was that even possible? I have no clue…

I let go of the woman’s limp body and hurled the axe at the elf.

It spun end over end, whistling as it flew. The elf dropped to one knee in a single, fluid motion, the blade whipping past inches above his head. Elegant bastard. Without missing a beat, the elf reached for another arrow and nocked it with practiced grace. His expression was unreadable, but filled with deadly calm.

I didn’t wait for him to fire.

I charged, raw muscle and momentum driving me forward like a battering ram. The orc’s body was a weapon in itself, each footstep a small quake on the boards, and each breath labored but full of rage. My fist came up, aimed squarely at that perfect face.

But the elf’s arrow was faster.

The string twanged, and the world shattered.

Something sharp tore through the orc’s skull, and everything went white. My vision snapped backward. My senses collapsed like wet paper. One moment I was mid-swing, the next I was… dead and disembodied. The orc’s head jerked back violently as the arrow buried itself between his eyes, and the heavy body crumpled backward like a felled tree.

I floated there, stunned… and then furious.

The elf didn’t see me. But I saw him.

My ghostly hands, translucent but solid in a way I couldn’t explain, found his face. Cold skin. Sharply angled features. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, though not for me. He was staring past me, at my former vessel twitching on the floor.

I leaned in.

“Die,” I whispered, and squeezed.

A scream echoed through me. My senses bent, then twisted. And just like that, I was inside again.

But this time was different.

The orc had been easy to take over. A wall I had simply walked through. But the elf… he fought back.

I could feel his panic, fury, and confusion. It wasn’t just instinct this time. There was identity, thought, and pride. I gritted my ethereal teeth and drove one hand to his quiver, grabbing an arrow. I raised it toward our throat, aiming for the quick way out. I needed to end this, and I couldn’t let him regain control.

But he stopped me.

His other hand rose on its own and caught my wrist. Muscles resisted. My arm shook as I tried to drive the arrow downward, but his will pushed back. Sweat ran down our temple, and I felt his voice scream in my head, even though no words came.

"I will not die like this," said the elf. "I WILL NOT DIE LIKE THIS!"

“You don’t get a say,” I growled aloud, through clenched teeth. “Die.”

I slammed us down with a little nudge.

The floor met our face with a sharp crack, and I shoved hard. The arrow, still locked in my hand, drove into the soft skin beneath the chin. It sank in slowly and painfully, a steady resistance that gave way with every ounce of pressure I forced.

We both felt it from the cartilage parting, the artery rupturing, and the air turning into liquid inside our shared lungs. He gasped. I choked. The blood came hot and fast.

The elf spasmed. His limbs jerked once, then again. I lost sight in one eye, and then the other. It was like drowning in fire.

The worst part wasn’t the pain.

It was the silence that followed from the fading resistance in his mind to the growing stillness in our chest.

As I bled through someone else's throat and suffocated on borrowed breath, I felt the limits of my power and the cost of forcing fate to bend. The pain was blinding. The agony was sharp and slow. But as the world began to darken at the edges, I felt one thing above all else.

Relief.