I am Maribel Holloway, age 15, an adventurer on a quest to find a group of missing persons under the orders of Lord Griswald, alongside my friend, Shadow.
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Shadow and I move carefully around the wreckage of the overturned wagon, each of us taking a wide, deliberate path in opposite directions. We watch the ground closely, avoiding disturbing the existing tracks as we search for clues.
When we arrived, Shadow assured me that his remarkable senses detected no threats in the vicinity. I confirmed it with my own Predator Sense skill, though I had long since noticed something strange, Shadow never registers as a threat. The first time I realized this was during our battle with the mithril fur bears several arcs ago. Now, I understand why. He’s not a living being, but a golem. My skill likely has limitations when it comes to non-living dangers, meaning something could still be lurking unseen.
“There are two different sets of tracks,” Shadow calls from the other side of the wagon. “Larger, human-sized boot prints… but also a bunch of smaller, barefoot tracks.”
I kneel down, examining a set of small, bare footprints smeared through a pool of blood. My gaze follows the trail as it converges with others, all leading away from the wagon and into the open fields to the north.
“Whatever they are, there were a lot of them,” I observe, estimating the numbers. “At least ten. They headed north across this field.”
“They look like goblin tracks,” Shadow muses with a sigh. I glance over the wreckage to see him standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.
“I don’t believe ten goblins could overpower two veteran Arcadian knights,” I say skeptically.
“They didn’t,” Shadow replies, pointing to a set of long streaks in the dirt on his side of the wagon. Blood trails. “Our missing people were dragged in the opposite direction, along with these larger boot prints.”
He turns, gesturing farther up the road toward Ashford. “And those drag marks lead to a fresh set of wagon tracks… heading straight for Ashford.”
“Well, I don’t think humans are working with goblins,” I say, standing up and pulling my fur cloak tighter around me. The winter chill bites at my skin, my breath visible in the crisp air. “Goblins don’t work well with anyone.”
“Chances are the two sets of tracks are unrelated,” Shadow says, rubbing the back of his head as if wrestling with the decision ahead. “But they still present a serious problem. Whoever took our people headed toward Ashford. And based on the goblin tracks overlapping the boot prints, the goblins stripped the wagon after they were already taken.”
“So what’s the problem? That means we need to go to Ashford to investigate, right?” I huff, white vapor escaping my lips.
Shadow hesitates. “We don’t know for sure that all of our missing persons were taken there,” he says carefully. “And goblins… well, they’re known for taking female prisoners.” His voice carries an edge of disgust, and I feel a sickening realization creep up my spine.
A knot tightens in my stomach. I know exactly what he means.
“Any time goblins are sighted, they need to be eliminated,” Shadow continues, his tone darkening. “If we let them go, they’ll raid nearby villages. They’ll take prisoners.” His heavy steps bring him closer to me. “And if there’s even the slightest chance they have prisoners… if they might have Diana…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.
A wave of nausea washes over me. The thought alone is unbearable, but it forces open a door I’ve worked so hard to keep shut. An old, buried memory claws its way back to the surface—a memory I refuse to relive.
My heart races. I start to shiver, and not from the cold. The images flood my mind, vivid and unrelenting, no matter how hard I try to push them back. No… stop.
“Maribel, you okay?” Shadow’s voice cuts through the haze, grounding me. His heavy but gentle hand rests on my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” I snap, yanking away from his grip before I can stop myself.
A tense silence hangs between us. I become aware of my own ragged breathing and force myself to steady it. My pulse pounds in my ears.
“I… I’m sorry,” Shadow says, his voice laced with confusion and hurt.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing my emotions into check.
Shadow starts to speak again, but I cut him off. “It’s okay, Shadow. You did nothing wrong.” I look up at him, wanting to make sure he understands. “It’s okay for you to touch me. I just… I was thinking about what Diana might be going through right now.”
Shadow hesitates, his arms still drawn back to his chest as if unsure of what to do.
A pang of irritation rises in me. irritation at myself for snapping at him, and at him for acting like he’s the one who needs reassurance when I’m the one feeling vulnerable.
With a sigh, I step forward and wrap my arms around him, hugging his cold, metal body.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “Forget what I said.”
Shadow cautiously wraps his big arms around me, slow and gentle. His embrace is icy cold and rigidly hard—nothing like the warmth and softness a hug should have. And yet, despite that, nothing feels safer. In his arms, I feel untouchable, shielded from everything. Here, I can have the closeness and intimacy I haven’t allowed myself with anyone else—without the fear that he wants something more than I’m willing to give. Because as a golem, he doesn’t. He couldn’t have ulterior motives like that. Shadow might be the only man I can truly believe cares for me without hidden, carnal intentions.
A part of me wants to stay here, just for a little while longer. But a much larger part of me knows we have a mission—one that requires immediate action.
“We need to go,” I say regretfully.
Shadow releases me from his hug and steps back with careful precision, as if afraid he might accidentally hurt me. “I followed the goblin tracks,” he explains. “They lead to a concealed cave entrance at the base of a crevasse, an hour north of here by foot, off the road.”
There he goes again, having the uncanny ability to see places far away.
“So the plan is to kill the goblins first, then continue on to Ashford?” I ask, needing confirmation.
“We need to be sure the goblins didn’t take any of our people,” Shadow replies, already moving to unhitch the horses from the wagon. “Also, dealing with them now ensures they won’t be a problem in the future.”
A sudden realization strikes me. “Do you think they might be responsible for the recent surge in missing persons?”
Shadow leads Huckleberry and Buttercup back toward me, their reins in his hands. Huckleberry trots with an eager bounce, clearly pleased to be freed of her burden. Buttercup follows more gracefully, flicking her ears and watching us expectantly.
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“I don’t think ten goblins could be responsible for that many disappearances,” Shadow says doubtfully.
“Or,” I counter, taking Buttercup’s reins as he hands them to me, “it could mean there are a hell of a lot more than ten goblins.”
“Possibly.” Shadow shrugs, adjusting his grip on Huckleberry’s reins before starting off at a determined pace northward through the field, leaving the road behind. I hurry to keep up, my shorter legs forcing me to move faster just to match his strides.
“But I think the two of us could take a hundred goblins,” he adds, his voice steady with absolute confidence.
I smirk, shaking my head. “You think? That’s not like you.”
Shadow doesn’t look back, but I catch the slight tilt of his head, like he’s amused. “Fine. I know we could take a hundred goblins.”
I grin, gripping Buttercup’s reins tighter. “That’s more like it.”
Shadow’s confidence is infectious.
Shadow, the two horses, and I make our way through the open plains toward a barren stretch of rocky land where the earth itself seems to bear the scars of some long-forgotten wrath. At the center, a deep, jagged crevasse cuts through the land, its sheer cliffs blackened and rough, as if a vengeful god had stabbed Gaia with a mountain-sized sword of fire. The surrounding stone is black, giving the impression that whatever force carved this wound into the world had seared the very ground in its wake.
This is a part of the Dragon’s Cradle I’ve never been to before, though I’ve heard of it. It’s a desolate place, useless for hunting or gathering, and generally avoided by adventures.
As we transition from the soft, rolling greenery of the grasslands to the harsh, cracked terrain, Shadow stops beside the last tree in sight, a spindly, twisted thing, its roots clinging desperately to the rocky soil. It looks half-starved for life, but it’s the only real option for hitching the girls.
Shadow takes a moment to secure the horses and runs a reassuring hand over their necks. “Don’t worry, girls. We’ll be back,” he murmurs.
Huckleberry snorts in response, her ears flicking back. Buttercup stamps a hoof, clearly not pleased with being left behind.
Shadow turns without another word, heading toward the canyon’s edge. I follow close behind, watching his movements carefully. He’s not scanning the ground for tracks, he walks with purpose, as though he already knows exactly where he’s going.
Before long, we reach the precipice, and Shadow comes to a stop. My eyes follow his gaze down a wide, unnatural path carved into the cliffside. The slope is far too smooth, too even to be the work of nature alone. It descends at an oddly easy gradient.
I peer over the edge of the cliff, taking in the dizzying depth of the sheer drop before us. It feels as though we’re standing at the peak of a mountain, despite still being at ground level. The land here doesn’t rise, it sinks.
“I’m going to cast enhancement spells on us now,” Shadow says, breaking the thoughtful silence between us.
“You worried?” I ask, turning to look at him as he pivots back toward me. “Are we back to I think we can now?”
“There’s something off about all this,” he replies, his tone uncharacteristically serious. He is still looking toward the sloping path before us. “The goblins entered a cave at the base of this cliff… and this very wide, very even path leads straight there.”
He pauses, watching me expectantly, waiting for me to make the same connection he has.
“That’s a bit too convenient, isn’t it?” I say, voice laced with sarcasm.
“Exactly. Goblins don’t make paths like this.” Shadow gestures toward the descent, his fingers curling slightly in frustration. “They don’t want their hideaways to be easy to access. They certainly wouldn’t carve a road wide enough for two humans to walk side by side.”
I take a closer look at the path and realize he’s right. Goblins are little more than dumb, violent pests. They barely understand tools, let alone engineering. The only metal weapons they ever use are the ones they steal. There’s no way a tribe of goblins, no matter how big, could have cut this path into the cliffside.
“The slope is completely even, too,” Shadow continues, a note of confusion creeping into his voice. “Goblins wouldn’t have the skill or patience to make something this precise.”
“So… there might be something worse than goblins down there?” I ask slowly, my mind already racing, trying to figure out what kind of creature would willingly live beside a bunch of filthy little rape monsters.
Because whatever could—whatever would—might just be far worse than the goblins themselves.
Shadow places his hand over his chest, and from it, a series of flashes erupts, each a different color, shifting and flickering like a living aurora. I’ve seen this before, countless times. This is how he casts his personal enhancements, layering himself in spell after spell to bolster his strength, speed, and awareness.
Then, he turns toward me and places his hand inches over my chest. My heart skips a beat.
Iron Hide
Enhanced Speed
Thought Acceleration
Strength Magnification
Lion's Heart
He speaks the spells aloud, not because he has to, but for my sake, so I know exactly what magic he’s casting onto me.
Familiar multi-colored flashes of light ripple over my body, and with it, a rush of energy. My limbs feel weightless, yet stronger than ever. My feet itch to move, my muscles coil, ready to spring into action. My mind sharpens, not frantic, not overwhelmed, but intensely aware of every detail around me. The usual nagging fears, the doubts that creep into the back of my mind? Gone. In their place is only clarity, confidence, and a feeling of unshakable resolve.
Shadow lingers for a moment, his hand still hovering over my bosom, as if hesitating. Then, he casts one final spell.
Night Sight
A white flash washes over me, and suddenly, the world changes. Shadows fade, darkness recedes, and everything around me is cast in perfect clarity, even the depths of the crevasse below. It’s as if a permanent, invisible torch has been lit around me.
"I gave you Night Sight since it’ll be dark in the cave," Shadow explains, already turning toward the path down the cliff. Over his shoulder, he asks, "Ready?"
I flex my fingers, testing the surge of power still humming beneath my skin.
"Absolutely. Let’s do it."
Shadow and I stand shoulder to shoulder at the entrance of the path. In silent agreement, Shadow draws his sword, and I draw my dagger, simultaneously. Then, without a word, we descend.
As we descend into the depth of the cavern the already brisk weather becomes even colder and eerily silent. With my predator sight I scan our surroundings, my ears straining for any movement, but there is nothing. Not a single stirring of life.
Before long, the sloped path leads us to the base of the cliff. The ground levels into smooth black rock, lifeless and cold. A stream flows to our right, its surface eerily undisturbed, reflecting the dim light like polished glass. To our left, a six-foot-wide stone arched entrance to the cave.
We stop just outside, weapons ready, senses sharp.
“There’s blood on the ground,” I murmur, my eyes tracing the deep red stains pooling across the ground. The effects of Night Sight allow me to easily follow the trail of blood splatter into the cave. The trail doesn’t stop at the floor, it streaks up the walls and spatters the ceiling like something was violently flung against it.
“And… everywhere else,” I add grimly.
Shadow kneels beside a particularly thick puddle, dragging a gloved finger through the wetness. He lifts it slightly, watching how the thick liquid clings to the leather.
“It’s fresh,” he mutters, his voice carrying a tense edge. His head turns slightly, scanning the entrance. “So where are the bodies?”
Good question. So much blood, but no corpses.
“Get behind me. Cover our backs,” Shadow orders, his tone hard.
I nod, slipping into position.
Shadow steps forward, his heavy metal footfalls echoing against the cave walls. The sound definitely made its way deep into the cave. Whatever is in there, will know we are coming for sure.
As we enter the cave my nose is assaulted by the overwhelming stench of blood and rot that seems to thicken as we move deeper.
Then, we find the first body.
A goblin.
It lies in a twisted heap on the stone, its thin green limbs sprawled unnaturally. Dressed only in a filthy loincloth, its body is smeared with dirt, blood, and something darker. But its head—that lies several feet away, severed clean from its body, its grotesque, uneven mouth frozen mid-scream. Its large, crooked nose and leathery pale green skin looks hideous.
Though, if I’m being honest, being dead is probably a slight improvement over it’s living counterparts.
We continue forward, stepping carefully through the dimly lit tunnel. The deeper we go, the more corpses we find, five more goblin cadavers, each in various states of mutilation. Some bear the obvious signs of battle, their bodies stabbed, gutted or hacked apart. Others, however, seem to have met their end to traps.
One goblin lies twisted in the bottom of a pitfall, its body skewered through the chest on sharpened wooden stakes. Another, little more than a blackened husk, had apparently triggered a fire rune trap. The stench of burned flesh lingers in the air, mixing with the thick, metallic scent of blood.
I glance down at my boots, then at the faintly glowing markings on the stone floor, and make a mental note to step exactly where Shadow steps.
We continue for a while before Shadow stops abruptly and raises a hand. I halt immediately, my grip tightening around my daggers.
I don’t need to ask him why.
The sound reaches me at the same time it reaches him.
In the distance and growing louder I hear the echoing clamoring of many small feet. A great many, small, fast-moving feet growing louder and closer by the second.
It’s not just in front of us.
It’s behind us too.
I slowly turn around as the rhythmic vibrations ripple through the floor beneath my boots. The tunnel amplifies the noise, making it impossible to tell just how many there are, but it’s far more than ten.
Much more.
Armor clinks. Metal weapons scrape against the stone.
A flood of short, angry, green-skinned creatures is coming.
And we’re right in the middle of it.
Why'd it have to be goblins?