The climb along the long mountain road is more exhausting than the long journey from home to the bottom of the mountain; Cashur was relieved to have his own sturdy cane and Durotan's strong arms. But today, her steps seem to be more steady than usual, and her breathing is smoother, as if the soul of the ancestors is pulling her forward, supporting her old ** with the power of her soul.

They stopped in front of the sacred cave. The entrance to the cave is perfectly oval-shaped, embedded in the smooth surface of the Holy Mountain. Kashur felt as if he had stepped into the womb of the earth, as usual. Durotan tried to appear brave, but in the end he only seemed a little nervous. She didn't laugh. He should be nervous. He was summoned to the Holy Land by a long-dead ancestor, and even she could not remain indifferent to it.

She lit a bunch of hay, which emitted a spicy, sweet scent. She waved the bundle of grass in her hand, letting the smoke envelop Durotan as a sign of purification for him. She then took out a small leather pouch with a stopper, which contained the blood that Durotan's father had given for the ritual. She smeared the blood on him, put her withered hand on his flat, lowered brow, whispered a blessing, and nodded.

You also know that almost all of those who are called to the ancestors follow the path of shamanism. She said sternly. Duron opened his brown eyes and nodded. I don't know what's going to happen later. Maybe nothing will happen. But if something happens, you should be mindful of your behavior and show due respect to our loved ones. ‘

Durotan swallowed and nodded again. He took a deep breath and straightened up. This moment. Cashur was out of his untempered form. Saw the shadow of the future patriarch.

They entered the cave together, and Cashur walked in front, lighting the torches that lined the walls. The orange-yellow glow of the fire reflected the spiraling descending path, which had been smoothed by the soles of the orcs that had been trodden over the years. Several steps appear on the road from time to time to make the pilgrim's footsteps more stable. It's always cool and warmer than the outdoors in winter. Cashur's hand ran over the wall, remembering how he had first been here years ago, and how he had entered the tunnel with his mother's blood on his face. His eyes were wide open in surprise and anticipation, and his heart was pounding.

Finally, the road no longer descends. Further on, there were no more torches on the walls. Durotan looked at her bewildered.

We don't have to bring fire to our ancestors. Cashur explained. They walked on the smooth path ahead of them and marched into the darkness. Durotan wasn't afraid, but when they stepped out of the warmth of the flames, there was a real hint of doubt on his face.

They had walked into the darkness where they could not see their fingers. Cashur took Durotan's hand and led him forward. His stubby, strong fingers gently gripped her hand. Even in this case, he didn't hold my hand tightly, lest it hurt me. She thought. The next patriarch of the Frostwolf Clan has a thoughtful heart.

They walked in silence. Then...... Like the dawn after a long night, a faint light quietly enveloped the two of them. Cashur could faintly see the silhouette of the young man around him. He was not many years younger than her, but he already had the majestic body of an adult. They continue to move forward, and with each step, the light is stronger. Cashur looked at Durotan. She was all too familiar with the strange sights in the caves where the souls of the ancestors dwelt; Now, she wanted to see Durotan's reaction.

His eyes widened, he looked around, and took a sharp breath. The light emanated from a pool of water in the cave, as if covering a qiē with a soft silver veil. Everything in the cavern was smooth and soft, shimmering with a faint shimmer, without any abrupt bulges, without a rough surface. Cashur felt that familiar, pure peace permeate her as usual. She quietly let Durotan see enough. The caverns are enormous, larger than the drum and dance halls of the Koshhag Festival, and the walls are lined with countless tunnels that lead to places that Kashur never dared to set foot in. It must be so big, otherwise how could it hold the soul of every orc who ever lived?" she walked towards the pool, and he followed her, watching her every move. She put down the package she was carrying and motioned for him to do the same. Carefully taking out a few water bags, Kashur opened them one by one, muttering a prayer and pouring the water into the glittering pool.

When we set out, you asked why you were carrying these hydration bags. She whispered to Durontan. 'Because the water of this place does not belong here. For a long time, we have been offering holy water to the souls of our ancestors. Every time we come here, we have to contribute to the Holy Pool. But the water in the sacred pool never evaporates like the water in a normal cave, and I can't say why. That's the power of the Mountain of Souls. ‘

After the water bag emptied, she sat down on the edge of the pool and peered into the deep water. Durotan learned her movements. She looked at the reflection in the water, making sure they were both in the right place. At first, she could only see her own and Durontan's faces; Their facial features are reflected in the glowing pool water, and they look like ghosts.

Then, they were joined by another figure. Grandfather Tarkra appeared beside her out of thin air, his reflection in the water as clear as the two of them. Her eyes met with his reflection and smiled knowingly.

She looked up at him. Durotan was still staring at the pool, as if trying to find an answer from it. Cashur's heart sank slightly, but he immediately rebuked himself secretly. If Durotan can't become a shaman, this can't be changed. Even if he does not follow the path of a shaman, he is destined to be a leader by birth, and he will definitely have a bright future.

'I don't know how many generations of great-granddaughters,' Talkra said. His tone had never been so gentle. 'At my request, you brought him here. ‘

The old man's ethereal soul leaned on an equally ethereal cane, slowly walking around Durontan. The young orc's eyes were still fixed on the pool. Kashur watched them intently, one the deceased ancestor of the Frostwolf Clan, and the other a young man who would succeed the patriarch. Durotan shuddered, and looked around, apparently wondering why the air had suddenly turned cold. Kashur smiled silently. Although he could not see the souls of his ancestors, he could feel the existence of Talkra.

'You can't see him,' she said with a little sadness.

Durotan looked up suddenly, his nose twitching. He sprang to his feet, his fangs looking a little blue in the glow of the cave, and his skin tinted green.

'Yes, Mother, I ...... I can't see him. Ancestral Soul ...... He's right here?'

That's right, he's right there for you. 'Kashur said. She turned to Talkra's soul, 'As you asked, I brought him here. What do you see in him?'

Durotan swallowed hard and stood upright. The Ancestral Soul paced around him thoughtfully.

I felt it...... Something. 'Talkra Road. I thought he was going to be a shaman, but now that he can't see me, he'll never be able to walk that path. However, while he was unable to communicate with the Ancestral Spirits or call for the help of the Elemental Spirits, he was born with an unusual mission. He would be the great man of the Frostwolf Clan...... The great man of the entire orc race. ‘

He's going to be a ...... Hero?' Cashur asked, holding his breath. Every orc will strive to follow the rules of valor and glory, but only a few can engrave their names in history and be praised by future generations. Hearing her words, Durotan took a breath, an expectant expression on his face.

'I can't tell,' Tarkra said, frowning slightly. Teach him well, Cashur, for one thing is certain: his blood will bring salvation. ‘

Talkra stretched out an empty hand and caressed Durontan's cheek with a tenderness he had never felt before. Durontan's eyes widened, and Cashur could see that he was trying to resist the instinct to retreat, and to keep himself from cowering at the touch of his soul.

Immediately, Talkra disappeared like steam. Kashur staggered for a moment—she had always forgotten how the power of the ancestral soul had helped her support her decrepit body. Durotan stepped over to her and took her arm. She was grateful for the strength of the young man.

'Mother, are you alright?' He asked. She grabbed his arm and nodded. His first concern was still her, not what the ancestors had commented on him. She pondered her words and decided not to give them to Durotan. Despite her sanity and kindness, Durotan did not dare to take risks. Such a prophecy is enough to corrupt the purest heart.

His bloodline will bring salvation.

'I'm fine,' she reassured, 'but this old bone is useless, and the power of the ancestors is so strong. ‘

'I wish I could see him,' Durotan's voice was a hint of longing, 'but...... But I know I feel him. ‘

'Definitely. This is already a height that most people can't reach. 'Kashur said.

'Mother...... Can you tell me what he said, about--about me becoming a hero?'

He wanted to show that he had to be calm and mature, but his words still unconsciously revealed the flavor of pleading. She didn't blame him, after all, who wouldn't want to be famous, who wouldn't want their story to be told, and if he didn't, he wouldn't be an orc.

Tarkra grandfather said he wasn't sure either. She confessed. Durotan nodded, cleverly hiding his disappointment. She had only wanted to say this, but something prompted her to speak again: 'You have a mission to accomplish, Durotan the son of Garrard. Don't die stupidly in battle until you complete your mission. ‘

He chuckled, "A fool can't help the clan, and I'm going to serve the people well." ‘

'In that case, future patriarch,' Castle laughed, 'you'd better start thinking about finding a partner.' ‘

So since the two of them went out, Durotan showed a completely panicked expression for the first time. Cashur laughs (to be continued......)