In the dim, echoing chambers of the yellow goblin dungeon, the last surviving goblin shaman knelt before an altar of jagged stone. The chamber, once alive with the raucous energy of its kin, now lay eerily silent. Only the flickering of faint blue flames, cast from the glowing runes etched into the walls, remained.

The shaman’s vibrant tattoos pulsated with a sickly yellow glow, their light fading in and out like the desperate rhythm of its breath. Each pulse mirrored the ebb and flow of the dungeon’s waning magic.

It slammed a gnarled staff into the ground, the top adorned with a cracked crystal that hummed weakly.

“They will pay,” it hissed in guttural goblin-speak, its voice a mixture of rage and grief. “Genosions… Raksu val’ja… They killed my kin. My brothers. My sisters. Val’toik!”

The memories of the raid flashed before its glowing red eyes. The hunters—five of them, clad in shining steel and wielding weapons that radiated magic—had stormed the dungeon two days prior. They’d cut down its warriors, pierced its archers, and cleaved through its kin with no mercy. The hunters had taken everything—treasures, crystals, even the bodies of the slain as trophies. Now, only the shaman remained.

Tightening its grip on the staff, it rose to its feet, trembling from exhaustion but fueled by vengeance. It shuffled toward the crude altar, where small forest critters—squirrels, birds, and a trembling rabbit—were trapped in a magical field. With a guttural chant, the shaman raised its staff high.

“Tov’rek sal kriix. Ixal’gor vahn tal!” (Spirits of the dark forest, answer my call.)

The glowing crystal at the staff’s tip flickered brighter, the runes etched into the dungeon walls responding with an ominous hum. A low vibration coursed through the room as the trapped animals let out terrified cries.

The shaman’s chant grew louder, its voice echoing against the damp stone walls. The air grew heavier, a metallic taste lingering on the tongue, and the faint scent of burning flesh filled the chamber.

With a deafening crack, the crystal shattered, sending a burst of yellow light across the room. When the light faded, the shaman’s knees buckled, sweat dripping down its gaunt frame. Where the animals once were, new goblins stood in their place.

The first were Forest Goblins, their green and mossy skin blending into the shadows cast by the faint blue flames. Their bodies were adorned with leaves, bark, and crudely crafted bone jewelry. They hissed and growled, their movements stealthy and predatory.

Next came the Cave Goblins, their pale, grayish skin and large, reflective eyes well-suited for the darkness. Their sharp, clawed fingers clicked against the stone floor as they surveyed their surroundings.

Then appeared the Mountain Goblins, their tough, stone-like skin and earthy tones a stark contrast to their kin. These goblins stood broader and more muscular, their brutish presence dominating the small group.

Finally, stepping out of the shadows were two Shadow Goblins, their dark gray skin wreathed in faint, flickering shadows. Their glowing eyes pierced through the gloom as they hissed lowly, their auras radiating malice.

The shaman slumped forward, panting heavily, its body trembling from the exertion. “Enough… This is all I can summon… for now.”

The summoned goblins growled and sniffed the air, looking to the shaman for direction.

“Val’ka tol vrix,” (Go and watch.) The shaman rasped, directing its gaze to the Shadow Goblins. “Rov’ska jai yul’ven—Genosions!” (Find the Genosions. Find out when they will strike again and then we will kill them all.)

The Shadow Goblins nodded silently, their forms melding into the darkness as they slinked out of the dungeon.

The chamber fell silent again, save for the faint scuttling of the remaining goblins. The shaman leaned heavily on its staff, its vibrant tattoos now dimmed to a weak glow.

“They think we weak,” it muttered, its voice low and bitter. “But we not. We fight. We destroy them all. My kin… Val’torik mak nas tovek!” (My kin shall have vengeance!)

Its gaze fell to the altar, where the remaining runes still pulsed faintly. With trembling hands, it began carving a crude plan into the dusty stone floor—a plan to lure the hunters back, to make them suffer as its kin had suffered.

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But for now, it waited.

And as the Shadow Goblins vanished into the forest, their glowing eyes disappearing like fading embers, the shaman’s voice echoed softly through the chamber:

“Val’rak su vek… Nas’tor ul vek.” (They will come. They will die.)

—————————————————

Nyx adjusted the hunter badge pinned to her cloak as she walked through the bustling village streets with Till by her side. The sun cast a warm glow over the cobblestone paths, the hum of activity filling the air with life. Merchants called out their wares, children darted between stalls, and the occasional hunter strode by, weapons glinting in the sunlight.

Till nudged her with his elbow. “You’ve been staring at that badge for five minutes. Are you going to keep admiring it, or do you want to head to the guild?”

Nyx grinned, holding the badge up to catch the light. The copper gleamed, its delicate engraving reflecting the Everhunt Guild’s crest. “I can’t help it. This is my first real step as a hunter.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Till teased. “Just don’t let it go to your head, Rookie.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before tucking the badge into her pouch. Uriel’s calm voice sounded in her mind, grounding her.

“Remember, Nyx, this badge represents more than just your status. It’s your commitment to growth and responsibility as a hunter. Treat it with respect.”

I know, Uriel, Nyx thought back, her expression softening.

As they passed the village gates, Nyx spotted a group of guards stationed near the entrance. Their familiar faces lit up with surprise as they noticed her.

“Hey, isn’t that the girl we brought in a couple of weeks ago?” one guard muttered to his companion.

“It is! She’s a hunter now?”

The guards stepped forward, their astonishment evident. “You? A full-fledged hunter? Didn’t see that coming,” one of them said, scratching his head.

Nyx smiled politely and gave a small bow. “Thank you for helping me back then. I wouldn’t be here without your kindness.”

The guards exchanged looks, their shock giving way to warm smiles. “Well, just be careful out there,” one of them said. “The world outside isn’t as forgiving as the village.”

“I will,” Nyx replied, her voice steady.

As they moved on, Till gave her an approving look. “Smooth. You’re getting better at this whole ‘polite and mysterious’ thing.”

Nyx laughed, nudging him. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Sister Clara.”

Nyx’s first official job as a hunter had taken her to the forest’s edge with Till as her guide. The dense canopy filtered the sunlight into soft golden rays, the air alive with the chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves.

Nyx held her herbology book in one hand, its pages detailing the appearance and properties of moonblossoms. The glowing blue flowers were said to grow in clusters near the base of trees, their faint light visible even in the shadows.

Uriel’s voice guided her as she scanned the forest floor. “There’s a cluster to your left, Nyx. Be careful not to damage the roots when you pick them—they’re valuable for replanting.”

“Got it,” she murmured, kneeling down to gently pluck the flowers. Their soft glow reflected in her silver veil, casting a faint light across her face.

Till watched from a distance, his hands resting on his hips. “You’re way too careful with those. Just yank ‘em out like this.” He reached for a nearby weed and pulled it up with a dramatic flourish.

Nyx shook her head, laughing. “I’d rather not risk ruining them, thank you very much.”

By the time they returned to the guild, Nyx’s satchel was filled with moonblossoms. Lyssandra greeted her at the counter, her sharp eyes scanning the contents with a practiced air.

“Excellent work,” she said, counting the flowers. “Here are your earnings—three silver coins. Not bad for your first task.”

Nyx’s heart swelled with pride as she accepted the coins, their cool weight in her palm a tangible reward for her efforts. “Thank you,” she said, her voice bright.

Till clapped her on the shoulder. “First job down! How does it feel to be a working hunter?”

“Feels amazing,” Nyx admitted, a wide grin spreading across her face.

To celebrate her success, Nyx insisted on buying pastries from the village bakery. Till protested at first, but she waved off his objections with a playful glare.

“It’s my treat,” she said firmly. “You helped me, so it’s only fair.”

They sat on a bench near the fountain, the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods filling the air as they unwrapped their treats. Nyx bit into her pastry, the warm filling bursting with flavor. She let out a contented sigh.

“This is so good,” she said, her voice muffled by the bite in her mouth.

Till chuckled, taking a smaller, more reserved bite. “Alright, I admit it. You have good taste.”

The sun dipped lower in the sky as they laughed and shared stories, the fountain’s gentle trickle providing a soothing backdrop. For a moment, everything felt simple and perfect.

Back at the orphanage, Nyx continued to adjust to her new life. She attended classes during the day, learning math and language under Sister Clara’s watchful eye. Though the lessons felt tedious at times, Nyx reminded herself that knowledge was another form of power.

At night, she trained in secret, honing her skills under Uriel’s guidance. The twin blades stored in her infinity sheath became an extension of her will, their weight familiar and comforting in her hands.

Through it all, the church’s initial curiosity about her origins began to fade. Nyx’s feigned amnesia, coupled with her diligent behavior, eventually satisfied their questions.

But as she lay in bed each night, staring at the faint moonlight filtering through her window, her thoughts drifted back to the forest. To the constellations who had raised her.

“I miss them,” she whispered quietly.

“They are still with you, Nyx,” Uriel reminded her gently. “In every step you take, their guidance and strength remain.”

A tear slipped down her cheek as she clutched the copper badge pinned to her cloak. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“I’ll make them proud,” she vowed softly, her determination burning bright as the stars she held so dear.