The moment Hal sees the ghost of a confused orcish man, sitting on the ground in front of the mural of Vokjan Murzat, staring in awe and fear and confusion up at the stage. The moment you realise who it is.
He got to see. He died, and went to further slavery even in death, never free, trapped in Azgra’s Dying Fields. He died and was not free. Because that was the fate of the orcs. Endless slavery, in life and in death. How many thousands? How many millions? How many souls?
And then … then a bridge. Then an actor calling out his name. Even if there was nothing else, even if he only just got to see, to know. Even if he could never escape himself, just to know.
Vokjan Murzat: What has happened here?
Hal: You found our courage, and pointed the way to freedom.
Vokjan: Are you free? Are all these people free?
Hal: It is never a given. But now we always have a chance.
But then. Oh, but then. It’s a bridge.
Brennan: A bridge is built to the Dying Fields. For the first time since the end of the Shapers War, the lost afterlives, at least one of those, is found. And a bridge is made, and those members of Vokjan’s revolution surge forward. Looking around, you can see them, in the woods, not knowing where to go.
And Thaisha. A Druid of the Old Path. In High Orcish.
Thaisha: When you look out, you will see woods around you, and at your feet begins a path. And it’s time, my friends, my family, to walk it. As bravely as you walked through life and death. Begin, and know that we all walk with you.
They walked them out. Hal and Thaisha between them. And Thjazi, in the background. Three Rungjani. They walked their people out of hell. They walked them out of slavery. All the dead of Vokjan’s rebellion. And maybe, hopefully, all the dead of the Dying Fields too. A bridge is made. The path is there. All the dead of centuries under Azgra. All the hundreds and thousands and millions of orcish souls still trapped in slavery beyond death.
In this one moment, this one play, this one healing ritual, they walked them out of death. Thjazi’s manipulations made a medium, and Hal’s art made a bridge, and Thaisha’s calling made a path, and hundreds of orcish souls got to walk out of hell and be free.
When you spend so long knowing that all that waits for you, in life or in death, is just pain, and suffering, and slavery, and death. When you die just for the hope that someone, not you, but someone, will one day know freedom. When you die in failure. And then …
Then you get a window, and that window turns into a bridge, and the children of the future you died for reach back their hands and pull you to freedom alongside them.
In one moment of blinding laughter, blinding hope, Vokjan turned from an undead to a celestial, just from raw joy. Not even for the certainty of it, but just for the hope.
And not … not just for the orcs. Not just for the Rungjani. The Stone of Nightsong awakening in Vaelus’ hands. Tintazi woods brightening and blooming around her and Hannon as he leads her out into them. The third bridge, to Faerie. The afterlife of the elves.
For the first time since the end of the Shapers War, one of the lost afterlives is found. And where one can be found, where one can be reached …
Again. The Shapers War all over again. The orcs went first, to show what needed to be done. But the rest of the world can follow after. There’s hope. Death is not an ending. There are things beyond it that are not slavery. What can be done once can be done again. There’s hope.
And once again, in this world, it is the orcs who bring it. From raw necessity. But where one walks, others can follow.
Dol Makjar, once more, becomes the proving ground of freedom.
