Orn sat at the long banquet table beside the other noble students. Large platters of delicacies sat on the dark blue table cloth. He felt he missed an unheard signal as those around him began to fill their plates rapidly.

He was taken aback by their sudden movement and, grabbing a fork, speared a cut of ham glistening in honey and covered in fruit. It was only when the cut of meat was on his plate that he realized the previous flurry of motion had stopped.

Orn glanced around to find the room was staring at him, or more accurately his hands. The green splotches gave his hands a mottled appearance. He instinctively clutched his hands back towards himself.

Where are my gloves? He thought in a panic trying his best to hid the large green patches now covering his hands. I always bring them to class where are they?

Despite his frantic searching he could not find them on the table or even the floor. Instead his eyes fell on a pair of polished shoes. Jolm’s voice rang harshly in his ears bringing his attention up. “Your gloves can hide your disgusting hands, but nothing can hide what you are. Freak.”

Orn stood and pushed the chair back to put space between himself and the hostile teacher that had appeared without warning.

“Go ahead and run,” Jolm said effortlessly keeping pace as Orn tried to back away. “Run back to the woods you freak. Stay there with your father and his peasant who…”

“Shut UP!” Orn yelled at the man cutting off the insult. “Do not dare speak about her that way.”

“Or what?,” Jolm challenged his prodigious gut so close Orn could feel the heat radiating from him. “What will you do? Will you attack me with that sword?”

Orn looked down to see he had the sword in his hand, and wondered when he had drawn it.

“Well are a you a coward as well now?” Jolm taunted. “Go on use it. Use it, you goblin handed son of a peasant wh…”

The words turned into a wheezing gasp as Orn’s sword buried itself into the large man’s chest. Orn flinched back releasing the blade and staring in horror at what he had just done. A red stain spread across the noble’s white shirt as he fell to his knees and collapsed on the floor. The noble’s eyes stared at Orn with a mixture of fear and rage until they became glassy and empty.

What did I just do?! Orn screamed internally. He stared as his shaking blood soaked hands as the other students ran from the room. I did not mean to do that, I did not do it. When did I even draw my sword?

Orn grabbed the napkin for the table trying to remove the blood from his hands. The piece of blue linen turned almost black, as he put his bloody handy onto it. He stared almost blankly at the table unable to bring himself to look at the body on the floor or the evidence of his guilt coating his hand.

The delicately crafted silver platters and mountains of food seemed so strange compared to what laid on the floor. All that food, and none of it looks appetizing anymore, he thought to himself furiously trying ot wipe off his hand.

Slowly he forced his attention away from the table to face what he had done. The body of the large noble still lay where it fell. The eyes of the dead man stared at him in silent accusation.

All that food, the words echoed in his mind in a voice that sounded like his own, but was clearly not.

He staggered back, and fell onto the thick carpet of the hall. Orn shook his head to clear it and moved to get up only to stare at his hand. The green spots were no longer just spots. Instead they were visibly growing across his hand. He clenched at the wrist of his right hand with his left as the fingers became longer and took a distinctly goblin appearance. All that food. The voice repeated as Orn watched the transformation growing faster as it spread down his right wrist and to his left hand.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He pulled his left hand back hoping to stop the spread only to see it had no effect. He watched in horror as hands changed completely and the colors bled from the room. Beyond his hands he could see the body of the noble a few feet away. “All that food”, the voice repeated this time not longer in his head. Orn felt his stomach rumble as he stared at the body. “All that food!” he heard again as he rose and moved toward the body.

“No,” he yelled demanding his body to stop. But it only moved faster. Orn was a passenger in his own body and despite his efforts he watched the goblin hand, his hand, rise up. He could almost taste the sweet taste of the man’s blood in his mouth, a concept that immediately excited and repulsed him.

Then his clawed hand drove downward….

Orn awoke covered in sweat staring at the bottom of Jack’s bunk. Not again, he thought suppressing a groan and pulling the damp cover off of him. He quietly put on his pants and boots, then eased out of the room. Out of habit he grabbed his blades from where they hung and walked into the dimply lit hall.

Once outside the barracks he took a deep breath of the cool night air and began a slow walk through the field north of the barracks.

“It happened again,” he said to the air. “I became a goblin again.”

“Who was the victim this time?” Kao asked falling into step beside him. “Was it a friend again?”

“No, this time it was Jolm,” Orn replied as he walked.

“That is nice at least,” Kao said patting his shoulder. “When it was just Adles, I was worried. I know it does not help, but that means it is probably whoever has been occupying your thoughts lately. He yelled at you a lot this afternoon.”

“I still do not understand why he even came to the class,” Orn said bitterly. “He is supposedly still tied up with the gala he is planning. He admitted he only stopped by to grab a book from his office, but he somehow had time to come in and harass me.”

“He came to try to undermine Madam bode since she was out of the room,” Kao shook her head. “You saw how fast he excused himself when she came back. He is terrified that she will replace him.”

“That said.” Kao added giving Orn a playful smirk. “If anyone deserves to be eaten by a goblin it is Jolm.”

“I would not go that far,” Orn replied flatly, as he stopped walking. In a fluid motion he drew his blades.

Kao stopped a few paces later before turning to stare at him. “Working yourself to exhaustion is not healthy.”

“Neither is not sleeping,” he replied. “Do you have any other ideas how to keep the dreams at bay?”

“No, not yet” Kao replied sadly with a shake of her head. In a smooth motion she seemed to pull her own weapon from thin air.

Orn stared at the long thin rapier in her hand and felt some of the tension bleed away. He would spar with her until he was too exhausted to go on. Then he stagger to his room, where he would collapse on his bed and let the darkness take him.

He was so sleep deprived that he again failed to notice the shadowy outline of a reaper that appeared for a split second before the rapier appeared in her hand.

...

[Bron]

He slunk back into the shadow of the old library. I thought he was joking. The boy really has gone mad.

Taking care the not be seen, he retreated towards the noble’s dorm.

Earlier that day he had been late to the party and learned he just missed seeing Jolm. Apparently his favorite professor had only stopped by briefly after spending much of the afternoon in his office. He again cursed the useless old librarian who liked to keep him long into the evening. Worse, they were all talking about how Jolm had confronted Orn, only for Madam Bode to bully the man from the room.

He sighed knowing that Jolm had no choice but retreat before her vicious attacks.

What else could he have done? Bron thought. She was being completely unreasonable. It is not as if any man could raise a hand against a woman no matter how much she overstepped. He simply too well bred for such uncouth behavior.

To think I used to hold her in such high regard. He once again dropped his opinion of the overbearing woman.

Turning his thoughts back to Orn, he was struck by an idea. The younger student was clearly unwell to be coming out late at night to swing his sword at nothing. The other boy had told him of Orn’s state, during the party, in hope that the knowledge would raise his mood. Bron however, was beginning to see it as an opportunity. Perhaps there is a way to do more with this knowledge than enjoy a moment of schadenfreude.