Demi-God Twin Chapter 19: Ori of the Bitter Roots Tribe.

Chapter 19: Ori of the Bitter Roots Tribe.

(Iphicles' P.O.V.)

The icy river claws at me, pulling me under with a strength that defies reason.

My metal wings, meant to give me freedom, drag me down like an anchor, pressing the air from my lungs.

My chest tightens, burning for oxygen as panic gnaws at the edges of my mind.

The currents twist and whirl around me, a maelstrom of freezing chaos where up and down lose all meaning.

For one moment, all I know is darkness, and for the first time since Heracles, I wonder if this might truly be the end. I doubt Regeneration can heal drowning.

Then, suddenly, I’m yanked upward. My head breaks the surface, and I gasp, coughing violently as cold sweat air floods my burning lungs.

My vision clears, and I find a massive, green hand gripping me under the shoulders.

“You… idiot…” the Ogre growls, his voice strained as he kicks against the current, keeping both of us afloat.

I open my mouth to retort, but before I can, his hands begin to glow with faint green energy.

The water around us shifts, rising and hardening into a shimmering green coated sphere that lifts us above the churning river, all-encompassing.

Inside, the air feels oddly still, even as the sphere barrels downstream, bouncing off rocks and surging over rapids.

“That was close,” the Ogre mutters, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Now shut up and hold on. The river’s about to get rough.”

He’s not wrong. The sphere hurtles over a series of waterfalls, the sound of crashing water roaring in my ears.

I cling to what little balance I can manage, hands pressed on either side of the sphere.

The Ogre's hands tremble, sweat beading on his brow as he maintains the protective barrier. The strain is evident, but he doesn’t falter. And that earns my begrudging respect.

Finally, the river calms, and the sphere deposits us gently onto the sandy shore of a wide, tranquil lake.

I collapse onto the ground, gasping for breath, every muscle in my body aching.

Beside me, my companion slumps onto his back, chest heaving as he glares up at the sky.

“Never… again,” he groans, wiping a hand across his face.

“You can… say that again,” I rasp, still trying to catch my breath. The cold of the water lingers in my bones, a stark reminder of how close I came to drowning.

Lesson learned. Regeneration doesn't mean I'm immortal.

“Thanks for the save,” I say after a moment, turning my head to look at him. “Ogre, right?”

From my past earth memories, he resembles an Orc more.

The hulking figure exhales sharply, his tusks twitching in annoyance.

“Ori of the Bitter Roots Tribe,” he corrects, sitting up with a scowl. “My name is not Ogre.”

I frown. “Didn’t know that. Thanks for pulling me out.”

“Ogre is a race, human. Is everyone from your kind just called Human, or do you assume you’re the only ones capable of reason?” He snorts, shaking his wet hair out like a dog.

“No, but—”

“So you do have names. Then what’s yours, besides ‘Idiot,’ of course?” He smirks.

My wings unfurl slightly, one razor-sharp tip hovering near his face. “Care to repeat that?”

Ori gulps, raising his hands with a reluctant scowl. “Perhaps I was a little too rude,” he mutters. “My apologies.”

I retract my wings with a sigh. “Iphicles. My name is Iphicles. Don't wear it out.”

I extend a hand, and after a moment of hesitation, Ori takes it. His grip is crushing as I haul him to his feet.

“Now then,” I state, scanning our surroundings. “Where in Tartarus are we?”

The lake stretches endlessly to the horizon, bigger than the Laerdinian Lake.

Its surface reflects the distant peaks of snow-capped mountains.

On the shore and to our left, a large settlement rises, its wooden walls impressively towering against the skyline.

Smoke curls lazily from chimneys, and the faint hum of life carries across the distance.

The town is a small fortress, its gates flanked by sharpened stakes and its walls patrolled by vigilant guards. Pennants flutter in the breeze, their insignia unfamiliar to me.

“Great. I have no idea where we are. Atalanta’s going to kill me if I don’t make it back soon.” I groan, running a hand through my short hair. “Maybe I could follow the river upstream…”

“Bad, bad, bad idea,” Ori cuts in.

“Didn’t ask for your opinion,” I snap, incensed at the situation.

Alone, I could’ve flown out of this mess. Instead, I’m stuck in the middle of Hermes knows where.

Ori barks out a laugh, slapping his knee. “You think flying over the forest will work? As expected of a lesser race.”

I glare at him. “We could trade insults all day, or you could offer something useful.”

“Are you proposing a partnership?” he asks, his tone skeptical.

“A very tentative one,” I reply. “It ends as soon as we reach the village. Deal?”

We shake on it, though his smirk tells me he’s enjoying this far too much. “Fine. A delicate human like you would die if I left you to your designs."

I ignore the comment for an important question,"Why is flying over the forest a bad idea?”

Ori's grin fades. “The river splits into multiple streams, each twisting into dead ends or dangerous territory. You wouldn’t know which one to follow. And did you forget about the Ents? They don’t just control the trees. The birds, the beasts, even the insects will hunt you down. Fly, and you’ll have an entire ecosystem coming for your head. The very definition of Nature's wrath.”

The grim picture he paints is enough to dissuade me. “Alright. Change of plans.” I gesture toward the settlement. “We go there, find information on the village, and procure a means of transport.”

“You mean steal,” Ori says, grinning.

“Borrow,” I correct. My eyes trail to the fishing boats docked at the harbor. Could we row upstream? Doubtful.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Ori says suddenly, pointing at the town's main gate.

A column of dust rises to the air, growing bigger by the second.

Looking closely, a group of Riders approach, mounted on massive black wolves. They’re heavily armed, and their pace is relentless. The towns Guard.

“Dire wolves?” Ori says, sounding impressed. “I had a pet once. Named her Claw. Very difficult to tame. Ferocious with prey and very fast too, incase you were thinking of running.”

I groan, covering my face with one hand. “It’s just one thing after another. Fine. Let’s not give them a reason to attack."

---

The riders surround us in no time. Their captain, a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek, glares down at us.

The dire wolves growl, fangs bared and green eyes daring us to make a wrong move.

"You two, drop any weapons you have, and stretch out your hands.” the captain orders.

I comply, trying to appear non-threatening. "We're not carrying any weapons."

Ori grumbles but does the same, his sheer size anything but harmless.

One wolf snaps its teeth, and Ori snarls back, his tusks glinting in the sunlight.

“You're arrested in suspicion of banditry,” the captain says, motioning for his men to search us. “Try anything, and the wolves will tear you apart.”

-0-



With manacles on our wrists, we’re led through the town. The residents line the streets, their faces twisting in disdain at our passing.

Murmurs ripple through the crowd.

“Filthy Orc,” one man spits. A woman pulls her child away, as if Ori’s mere presence is a threat.

Ori stiffens, his fists clenching. I grab his arm. “Not now,” I hiss.

Some of the guards laugh. One sneers, “Orc scum.”

Ori’s shoulders tremble, but he doesn’t retaliate.

I take the opportunity to study the town. At the center is a market and behind it a temple with the statue of Apollo.

Soon enough we arrive at an administrative complex with a guard Station facing our actual destination- the Dungeons.

Inside it's damp and foul-smelling; a nauseating stench of unwashed bodies and faeces.

We're thrown into a cell and the guards leave. Ori slumps against the wall, his massive arms crossed, glowering.

The conditions are as miserable as one might expect.

The walls drip with moisture, the air thick with the stench of mildew and decay. Rats scuttle in the shadows, and the straw bedding reeks of rot. The iron bars of our cell are rusted but sturdy, a testament to years of neglect.

I lean against the opposite wall, watching the Ogre silently. His jaw is tight, and his eyes burn with anger.

The discrimination and awful treatment from the townspeople linger in my mind, and I can only imagine how often he’s endured such hatred.

“Is that how you’re always treated?” I ask finally.

He grunts, not looking up. “Orcs and Ogres share the same bloodline. Both descended from the Giants, parents of the Titans. After Zeus defeated the Titans and cast them into Tartarus, the Giants were next. Orcs turned to savagery, devouring everything in their path. Ogres, however, followed the Spirit Mother, Gaea. We became druids and beast tamers, seeking harmony with nature. But to your kind, we’re all the same.”

His words hang heavy in the air. I see the pain behind them, the weariness of someone who’s spent a lifetime being judged for something beyond their control. It’s a feeling I know all too well.

“You said you’re from the Bitter Roots Tribe. Why aren’t you with them?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Ori’s expression softens slightly. “When an Ogre comes of age, we leave our clan to find a mountain to bond with. It’s how new tribes are born. I was scouting the mountain in the forest when…” He gestures vaguely toward me.

I nod slowly, understanding more than I expected to. “So you’re looking for a place to call home.”

He looks at me, his gaze sharp. “Aren’t you?”

The question catches me off guard.

For a moment, I’m back in the moment I was banished, the betrayal fresh and new, the weight of my hatred heavier than my father's expectations.

I shrug.

“You're right,” I admit. “I don’t really have a home to return to either.”

Ori studies me for a long moment, then nods. “We’re not so different, you and I, Iphicles.”

Before I can respond, footsteps echo down the corridor. A young unfamiliar guard, probably bmaking rounds. I grab the bars and catch his attention.

“Hey! You. Do you know of a village called Ugnar?” I ask him.

The guard glares but answers. “A day’s ride north. Why?”

I nod, filing the information away. “No reason. Thank you.”

As the guard leaves, I turn to Ori. “When night falls, we escape. We’ll ‘borrow’ some horses and head north.”

Ori’s eyes narrow, but he grunts in agreement.

Before we can say more, another set of footsteps echoes.

From the shadows of the dark dungeon, A woman in a hooded cloak approaches, flanked by the Captain who arrested us.

She stops before the cell, pulls back her hood, and my breath catches.

“Anissa?” I whisper.