Once the zombie died the door appeared, fashioning the same glow and accompanied by the familiar carnival sound- which, as Ria had discovered, apparently had no source. At first, she had thought the sound was a yield of the Television playing in the room. It hadn’t taken her long to revise her thinking though, for the TV inside was as soundless as the dead being lying before her.

Glancing at the zombie one last time she got up feeling nostalgic. Not that she had gotten attached to the stinking piles of shit and the murky stream flowing in the tunnel. She was leaving her innocence behind- whatever was left of it from her childhood- and she was finding it difficult to adjust her mindset. She found it extremely difficult to take her steps toward the future she had deliberately chosen, but she also knew it was a path she had to walk if she wanted another chance at life under the twinkle of stars and skies of blue. With her heart-pumping lead into the veins, she opened the door and entered the room beyond. She had made her choice. She didn’t look back.

The goblin sat on a chair he had pulled from the dining table and was watching TV. The door to the next stage was already standing to his right; it donned the engraving of a jaw fitted with plenty of lethal fangs on its surface. The goblin didn’t face her as she entered. And neither did he welcome her.

“You sure took your time.” He however said; he wasn’t sarcastic with his words, but he wasn’t kind either. He was unusually serious. Him being serious was good for her right?

Ria looked between the new door and the Goblin and decided she was in dire need of some answers. She might have already made her decision related to harming others, but she knew her capacity to whittle surprises wasn’t anything great. The only being who could possibly know what was waiting for her in the next stage was sitting in front of her. She wasn’t sure how easy it would be to scam him, but she sure as heck was feeling confident for some reason.

“Seems like someone’s in a bad mood.” She retorted, wining a cocked eyebrow from the goblin in return. “What happened? Tired of watching the same thing over and over again?” she said pointing at the TV, surprised by her own calmness. Knowing that the damned monster wouldn’t even touch her now that she had performed his task played a big part in getting her… out of control. But that’s just how humans work. Give them an inch and they try to take a mile, nothing new there.

The goblin looked at the object of her scrutiny and stood up –as if about to say something- but paused, glared at her, and sat back down on his chair with his back to her. “Don’t poke your finger into things you don’t know anything about, little lamb.” There was stillness to the way he said those words- a gloom he hadn’t displayed before.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Little lamb… he really doesn’t think much of me.

“Alright, so if you can just tell me what waits for me on the other side of the door, I’ll leave you be.” The goblin, however, replied with silence, denying her the relief she craved. Questions, she had so many of them. She didn’t know what the marble was? Whether she was supposed to return it to him or what? How had the corpse turned into a zombie? Why was she back to his floor again? What did it actually mean to go down the sewer? How was she to pry answers out of the goblins thick skull when he didn’t even give her any attention? He didn’t even feel pain for God’s sake! Not that she would try her little stunt once again… who knows how he would react? Well, she could decide to not play his games anymore, but how would that help her? It is not wrong to say that the goblin scared her most of everything she had seen and faced in the sewer. At least the Croc had the decency to kill its targets. Those bone mounds weren’t a natural creation! She wouldn’t have even known about the sewer and its rules if it wasn’t for the Croc. It’s like the Goblin wanted her dead.

But she needed answers. Something, anything would do. Why hadn’t it answered her? Wasn’t the goblin obliged to answer everything that was asked of it? Hadn’t it told her about how to become a perfect leader when she hadn’t even asked him? What am I missing?

“At least tell me about the zombie! How did it come back to life?” She said groaning. He’s so frustrating. She thought. Stomping on the floor she picked up speed toward the door when –disbelievingly- the goblin answered her.

He spoke, barely, with a very strained voice- as if being forced to speak. His veins bulged and his eyes stared dangerously at her, reminding her once again that it was only luck that she had attacked the goblin and lived to tell the tale. “The bead is a seed of power.” He enunciated every single word with distinctly. “It can do wonders you can’t even think about. It gave the corpse a boon of life. But the corpse had no soul hence, it only became partially alive.”

“How does that work?”

“It gives the power which one desperately needs, not which one desperately wants.”

“Can it help me? Can it give me powers?”

It stared at her without blinking then shook his head. “It is a useless thing now. Do you have anything else to ask?”

She didn’t know. Did she have anything else to ask? Of course, she did! But she had gotten so absorbed in thinking about the marble that she unknowingly shook her head, releasing whatever power was bounding the goblin: His face visibly relaxed and eyes returned to normal; his veins, however, remained swollen, pulsating with his heartbeat.

So he does have a heart. She mindlessly thought then grimaced at the opportunity lost.

“Me hate you, humans.” He said standing up. “And don’t even try to do that again. Me promise it won’t end well for you.” Finishing, he took off into the tunnel beyond. She had clearly set him off.

Now that the goblin was gone and she had the whole room to herself, she instantly went to closely investigate every nook and cranny. She pulled knobs, rotated pillars and hangers, knocked walls, tapped the floor, everything she did ended up exhausting her completely but bore no fruit. In the end, she depressingly broke another chair and created torches with their legs to take along.

Once done, she passed through the door without hesitating.