Xaufia, the Thing, or whatever Adria was supposed to call it, changed. And the lie that it was an unfortunate, lost child went away without some sort of ghastly transformation but did so in blinks. First, it became a sleek man with pale skin, and it sparkled like a sea under a full moon. The eyes, though, disappeared, leaving nothingness. Holes. Without eyes, you couldn’t see inside of it: what was it thinking? What would it do? Would it attack?! Would it run?!

After her next blink, a merchant’s black suit appeared in place of the Thing’s beggar rags. Lastly, atop roses on either end of the Thing, sprouted out eyes, and they stared at Adria.

They’re just eyes, but… They gleam with such evil, she thought, stepping back along with La’Var and Martin. Behind, she could hear the wyrms crawl closer. It was better when it didn’t have eyes!

Now she understood La’Var’s dropped gaze or the unnerving energy between the hunter and Martin whenever talk of the Thing arose. One thing still didn’t make sense. How? Her mind drifted to this question, even when danger closed it from all sides.

How—if this thing is so lethal that it's become legend—did I come in half a step of it, have a conversation, and survived?

The eyes on the roses read Adria. Smirking, the Thing cleared its throat and spoke in a deep southern accent.

“Hunter, you have a beautiful camp: well-hidden under an ancient tree and well-stocked with ham and bread. I thought you could surely bring along ten other goblins, but you settled for one goblin and a spirit. A damn shame, but who’s a beggar to judge? A meal’s a meal…”

One of the eyes atop the roses blinked.

You leave your flowers everywhere and spy with them too, but… You still can’t see that I’m a human, right?

The Thing paced towards the party.

“You’ve never tasted your flesh and your blood, I assume. You have no clue how much I will enjoy it!” It licked its lips. “These beautiful roses of mine have been feeding me well, of course, but the sun is a flavorless meal and never fully satisfying…”

As the child wyrms closed in, the ground grumbled and groaned, and Adria looked towards La’Var. His eyes overlooked their surroundings, and his nostrils expanded, taking deep sniffs. Soon enough, he would find a way out of this. He had to.

“I never thought I’d miss the heatwaves of Marl.” The Thing stopped and stared up at the sky. “And even there, the meat was plenty, but the quality… Nothing rivals the meaty hunters here.”

The black suit of The Thing tore open. The creature’s moonlight skin shifted into slimy tar, its limbs — into slithering tentacles. One slung for the hunting party. Adria and La’Var jumped to the sides. Martin stabbed with his claws and gasped. They couldn’t pierce the black mass, and the ghost ended up pushing back and forth with the Thing.

A burning sensation exploded in Adria’s side as one of her wounds tore and drenched her bandages. She staggered and the wyrms came into view, and they were paces away, and now spell words were leaving her lips while her arms shook and formed patterns.

Before the last word of magic, La’Var grabbed Adria and they dashed to the side. Out of the way of this clash. She stuttered, breaking the spell. Her wound flared up and she ran through pain you didn’t run through. You didn’t bear this kind of pain. You collapsed and saw the end because of it. It crushed you like grief. Somehow, deep inside, Adria found a way to not stop, focusing on each step.

The Thing howled and more black tentacles soared Martin’s way. As they were about to slam into him, he transformed into a pocket-sized ghost and flew out of the way, after Adria and La’Var.

The wyrms aren’t in the best state of mind. They’ll fight the Thing, Adria thought. While it deals with them, we’ll have some time—

The wyrms skid to a halt in the field of roses, tearing up dirt and flowers around themselves. The Thing’s stare destroyed the wyrms’ courage and primal rage. They whimpered, turned around, and disappeared into the woods.

Adria’s jaw dropped.

What?! NO! This was our last hope!

She, La’Var and the ghost had made it out of the field of roses and sliced undergrowth out of the way. But it meant nothing. A creature like the Thing would catch up in seconds. They were too beat to run fast enough or to put up a fight. They needed help.

Please! Somebody! Something!

The hopelessness took Adria’s energy right out of her grip. The pain made her drag. And then, an orange light on the trees caught her eye.

Over the field of roses, a haze flowed out. Rotten ropes careened from the haze, and corpses hung on the end of those ropes. Ghouls. Chills dragged their icy fingers across one half of Adria. Disbelief dealt with her other half. These were the ghouls from the inn’s catacombs, and they’d heard her thoughts and came to help… But how? Could something like this happen?

Twenty Gods! Is this your doing? Adria wondered, but didn’t have time to delve deeper. The ghouls encircled the Thing and bought the hunters time. She put her mind to running as fast as she could.

The hunter’s connection sparked between her and La’Var, and his movements became hers.

Along the way there were roses. Eyes appeared atop them. Whenever Adria and La’Var got the chance, they stomped, while Martin sliced the roses with his claws.

Still, hundreds of meters of thick woods and undergrowth remained to the passage out. And after maddening howls and screams, the ghouls had been destroyed and the Thing’s black tentacles slithered closer than the hunters ran. When it was close enough, sounds incomprehensible to the minds of humans and goblins alike could be heard coming from it.

“It sounds just like me!” Martin remarked.

“Shut up, damn spirit!” La’Var snapped. “If it can’t see us doesn’t mean it can’t hear us—”

The hunter tried to jump over a log and land on a rose but tripped. His right leg snapped and cracked. He wailed in pain as Adria’s eyes widened. Martin didn’t slow — she dashed to help La’Var up. The Thing’s tentacles whipped. They tore down trees and ripped the ground. One slammed into Adria, hurling her into a stump. She slammed into it with her shoulder. It throbbed with pain — she covered her mouth and let out a stifled cry.

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The slimy black tentacle came around and grasped Adria’s leg, dragging her to The Thing. Pebbles, rocks and branches sliced her. Adria squirmed, yet the creature’s grip tightened. Her legs numbed. She drew her bone dagger, slashing and stabbing at the tentacle. Its skin held back against any attacks.

Then a thunderous bang shook the forest. A speck of light whizzed through the trees and hit The Thing. Retracting its slimy black tendrils, it screeched.

The Bowl of Fur and Teeth silenced. Momentum and the hunter’s connection pushed Adria: avoiding making a single sound, she crawled over to La’Var. He twisted and twitched from the pain. His face had reddened and his pants had been rolled up, revealing a swollen ankle. Adria winced and, by the shoulders, dragged the hunter over to Martin, who had found cover.

Three figures moved through the forest, approaching The Thing. As Adria reached the cover of a thick oak surrounded by bushes and white flowers, the thunderous roar repeated. Four times.

By the last, she recognized the sound. La’Var’s ears perked up as well.

“Hunting cannon,” he whispered. “Immensely powerful. A childhood dream of mine. Still a dream of mine. Twenty gods, I may still be a child…”

In the north, Adria had heard plenty of rifles, pistols, and cannons, yet it had never been this powerful. And of course, they were a rare sight, an expensive treat. Whoever fired it had pouches of gold lying around and knew the best weaponsmiths on the continent.

Wailing, The Thing fought for its life, whipping the approaching figures with tentacles.

The silhouettes dodged and the creature’s life force ran out. Moves slowing, cries growing fainter, it collapsed and the figures stood around it in a circle, their looks becoming clear. All three were men. One donned a white coat and round glasses, one had heavy steel armor and the last… had a stomach that hung like Adria’s balcony overlooking Black Ice Bastion, and his red shirt barely kept it in. Atop each head were top hats, feathers, and bones tied to them.

“Hunters… It’s a hunting party,” Adria murmured. “We’re saved, we can…”

She silenced amid her words: La’Var’s expression soured.

There was an aching feeling that they were, in fact, not saved. Perhaps even closer to death than with the Thing around.

“Quiet, fool.” La’Var hit Adria’s shoulder. “You’re right, it’s a hunting party, but we’d have a better chance facing The Thing head-on than dealing with these scumbags who call themselves Arrowaltz.”

Oh. That’s right. Adria sighed. It’s somehow getting even worse.

“You sound like they’re gonna hunt us,” Martin remarked.

“They are going to do exactly that.” La’Var hit the spirit as well. “Not only because we’re goblins and they’d hand us over to the King of Dark Alleys for his measly reward without batting an eye, but also because… We have history.”

Adria shuddered at the hatred, frustration and fear in La’Var’s words. Just thinking of the Arrowaltz the hunter clenched his fist. Any sign of pain left his face. After a moment, when the foes ahead began taking apart The Thing’s carcass, La’Var put a finger up to his lips and nodded towards the passage out of The Bowl of Fur and Teeth. Tears welled up in Adria’s eyes. She couldn’t stop her heart from aching at the thought of that helpless child getting torn apart. Even though it had been a bloodthirsty monster. She brushed her cheek and quietly dragged La’Var. Martin shapeshifted into a short, slick version of himself, clearing the way.

The chatter of the Arrowaltz quietened and the voice of the man who donned a white coat burst through.

“Movement to the west, men. And it ain’t no rabbit or wolf matter.”

Fear rained upon Adria at the first part of those words. The second part triggered something within La’Var: he growled and his face twitched. He’d heard it ain’t no rabbit or wolf matter before and it had never ended well.

Eyeing the passage up the sides of The Bowl of Fur and Teeth, Adria hastened. As to lower their profile, Martin shapeshifted into a miniscule orb-like creature. He whizzed around her and the hunter. Behind, the shouts of the Arrowaltz neared. So did their footsteps.

The hunting party was a few dozen paces behind. The passage was at the same distance.

Even if we make it, we’re still going to have to climb up and escape out of the forest. They’ll catch us.

She took a detour, dragging La’Var through thick bushes and a haze of darkness beneath thick trees. Somewhere there should’ve been the hunting camp or a way out or… The ground crashed in. Adria and La’Var tumbled down a dark pit. Martin whizzed down and returned to his true shape, standing beside them.

“You need a hand?” the spirit asked.

Adria heaved for a moment before sticking her arm up. Martin grabbed it and pulled her up.

“Did they see us fall down here? Are we safe?”

“Oh, they absolutely saw us, no doubt.”

Adria turned to the pit’s entrance, pointing the bone dagger. Barely a few beams of light flickered from above, revealing a crumbling stairway that led down here. Heart thumping, arms shaking, Adria held the position for a minute. Her blood cooled off. She lowered the weapon.

“Why aren’t they coming down, then?”

“They will, but they first need to fight the fear and come to terms with probably dying,” La’Var croaked.

“They easily destroyed The Thing, yet they’re terrified of us?”

“We are nothing. The place we’re in, though… It scares every hunter.”

I have a feeling you’re not going to tell me what’s so terrible about this place, Adria thought, turning to the hunter. He stayed silent and caressed his swollen ankle. No matter what sort of horrors it holds inside, there has to be a way out, right?

Brows furrowing, Adria turned to Martin, gesturing for the spirit to follow her, walked a dozen meters into the depths of the cave then snapped her fingers.

“Light.”

“Do I look like a walking lantern to you?” The ghost protested.

“Not at all — you’re a floating lantern.”

If Martin had a face, his eyes would’ve rolled. Without words, the ghost expressed a thousand curses and endless frustration, but eventually weaved his hands, birthing a faintly glowing aura around himself.

Moss and dirt covered the rocky walls of the cave. Deeper, bricks appeared and the cave transformed into a tunnel with pillars holding up the ceiling. The cold and damp air seeped into Adria’s skin, going beyond and into her bones, and little droplets fell from above. Finally, inscriptions appeared on the walls: paintings of grand sphere cities, underground kingdoms, odd creatures.

“Don’t go deeper,” La’Var said.

“Then tell us what’s down there.”

The hunter shook his head.

“I don’t know. Only myths I’ve heard and I don’t want to scare you to your bones without being sure of it myself.” He paused for a breath. “Deadmen. An underworld. That’s all I’ll say, now get back here — the Arrowaltz are about to come down and I refuse to die without kicking their asses!”

Adria stood at the wall of darkness leading deeper into the cave. Chatter and orders echoed from above. It was followed by the sharpening of swords, then by the loading of guns.

The first footfalls entered the cave.

Adria turned to Martin and the ghost turned to her.

Is this it? she thought. No, until the inn is safe, we can’t die… But, Twenty Gods, how do we do the not dying part?

Two more hunters descended down.

Adria had an idea. Taking a deep breath of the putrid air, she took off the Mask of Roguish Disguise. Her whole body shook and trembled, and a sense of strangeness flashed by, and she returned to human.

Adria strode by La’Var—feeling, on her back, the hunter’s eyes popping out of their sockets—and stopped at the entrance to the cave, facing the Arrowaltz.

“Ah, finally you’re here! I need some help — I caught a goblin and, you won’t believe this,” she said, “a damn spirit! We’re going to dine well today, boys!”