A pause.
"The other," Kaelen said, tapping a heavy finger against the throne's arm, "was the Brute Strain. That is the strain we ogres inherited. Strength. Rage. Instinct. We were meant to be the guardians… or the weapons. Depending on who held the leash."
Rattan's mouth went dry.
Kaelen's voice dropped low, tinged with bitterness. "Ogres are not born as ogres, Rattan. We're born… as goblins. Just like you."
Rattan's eyes widened, but Kaelen pressed on before he could speak.
"But our fate is sealed from the very beginning. Since the day we enter this world, it's already been decided who we'll become."
He took a deep breath, the weight of memory heavy in his chest.
"It all starts with the talent test, doesn't it? Every goblin child is subjected to it at the age of five. They call it a tradition—a sacred ceremony to 'discover potential.' But that's a lie. A clever mask."
"The empire uses that ceremony to hide the truth of what's really happening to us."
