With a grace that belies the gruesomeness of her actions, she produces a wicked-looking dagger from the folds of her dress. The blade flashes in the dim light of the cottage as she swiftly separates the goblin's head from its body. With a casual flick of her wrist, she tosses the head at my feet. The body follows, sailing through the open door to land with a dull thud in the snow outside.

I crouch down, my eyes fixed on the grotesque trophy before me. The head is a nightmarish blend of human and... something else. Its skin is a sickly green, stretched taut over a misshapen skull. But it's the eyes that truly unsettle me. They're unmistakably human, filled with a pain and confusion that transcends the barriers of species.

These are humans? This is what happened to the "normal" humans? What did you do, Gwen? Changed their entire fucking DNA? Christ on a cracker, that's a whole new level of cruelty.

I stand up, brushing off my skirts with an exaggerated sigh. "I do wish you hadn't dirtied the floor I so painstakingly cleaned today," I say, my voice dripping with childish petulance. "Couldn't you have delivered it in a... cleaner state?"

Sean sighs heavily, the fight seeming to drain out of him as he sheathes his sword. Erik, the great oaf, actually has the audacity to laugh, while Dumitra's musical chuckle joins the cacophony. I heave another dramatic sigh, playing up the role of the put-upon child.

Dumitra's ruby eyes sparkle with mischief as she turns her attention to Sean. "Oh, I couldn't help but overhear your little... discussion about our dear Lile," she purrs. "Rest assured, I'll be more than happy to help unlock and control her powers in the coming days. No need to fret, my dear Witch Hunter."

Sean's jaw clenches, his hand twitching towards his sword hilt once more. "And why, pray tell, didn't you give her a Trudakshi orb in the first place?" he growls.

Dumitra's laugh is like shattered glass, beautiful and dangerous. "Why, for the sheer joy of it all! I simply couldn't resist the chance to play in the chaos our little Lile would inevitably produce. It's been so dreadfully dull lately, you know."

Sean's face contorts with rage, his voice rising to a thunderous roar. "If you want to have 'fun' at the Witch Hunters' expense, go the fuck outside and clean them all out yourself, you overgrown child!"

Dumitra's lower lip juts out in an exaggerated pout, her tongue darting out in a childish display. "Oh, you're such a bore," she whines. "You know, you remind me of my father. Always so serious, never any fun at all."

Sean's only response is a weary sigh as he massages his temples, looking for all the world like a man who's aged a decade in the span of minutes.

Dumitra's gaze shifts to Erik, her eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. "Speaking of fun," she purrs, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to help me... refill, would you, my dear?"

Erik nods, his massive frame moving with surprising grace as he approaches the vampiress. Without a word, Dumitra sinks her fangs into his neck, the act somehow both sensual and horrifying.

As quickly as it began, it's over. Dumitra pulls away, licking a stray droplet of blood from her crimson lips. She turns to leave, pausing at the threshold to cast one last glance in my direction. The look in her eyes is... sad? Regretful? It's gone before I can fully process it, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it all.

And then she's gone, leaving behind nothing but the coppery scent of blood and a thousand unanswered questions.

The silence that follows Dumitra's departure is thick enough to choke on. Sean's icy blue eyes narrow as he turns to Erik, his jaw clenching in a way that makes the muscles in his neck stand out like cords.

"Well," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, "it seems our vampiric friend has all but confirmed what I suspected. The girl is the reason Baile Rois finds itself under siege."

Erik's massive shoulders slump, a weary sigh escaping his lips. His emerald eyes flick towards me for a moment before settling back on Sean. "Aye," he rumbles, "I've known of her... attunement for some time now. Dumitra made it clear enough."

Sean's face contorts, a mixture of betrayal and fury dancing across his features. "And you saw fit to keep this information to yourself? Every time I darkened your doorstep, you held your tongue? I thought we were friends, Erik."

Erik's laugh is a harsh, bitter thing. "Friends? Aye, that we are. But some secrets must be guarded, even from those we hold dear. Surely a man in your position can understand that."

Sean's frown deepens, etching new lines into his weathered face. He opens his mouth as if to argue further, but Erik cuts him off with a sharp gesture.

"Enough of this," the Norse healer growls, turning to face Sean fully. "What's done is done. Tell me, how might one procure a Trudakshi orb? I confess, I'm at a loss as to how to obtain such a thing for the girl."

Sean's hand disappears into the folds of his cloak, emerging a moment later with a small, silver sphere nestled in his palm. It's utterly unremarkable - no larger than a chicken's egg, its surface smooth and featureless. If I didn't know better, I'd think it nothing more than a child's plaything.

"Here," Sean says gruffly, thrusting the orb towards Erik. "Fashion it into a necklace for her. She must wear it at all times, understand? I'll return each month to replace it."

I can't help but pipe up, my voice high and childlike. "Replace it? Why would it need replacing?"

Sean's gaze falls on me, and I have to fight the urge to squirm under the intensity of those icy blue eyes. "Those who are unawakened yet exude an aura that draws monsters to them like moths to a flame," he explains, his tone clipped and impatient. "The Trudakshi orb absorbs that aura."

Well, isn't that just fucking delightful? I'm a walking, talking monster magnet. As if I didn't have enough problems in this godforsaken hellscape.

"And once it's full?" I press, unable to contain my curiosity.

A ghost of a smile flits across Sean's face. "Then it becomes a potent source of power for our weaponry."

Ah, so that's how they keep those fancy toys of theirs charged up. File that little tidbit away for future reference, Alexander. Never know when it might come in handy.

I nod solemnly, the very picture of an obedient child. Erik, meanwhile, lets out a long-suffering sigh that seems to come from the very depths of his soul.

"This day," he mutters, shaking his head, "has been far too strange for my liking."

You don't know the half of it, big guy. Getting shitfaced drunk, bitten by a vampire, cumming myself into unconsciousness, puking in a keg, and then being gifted a severed neo-human head as a souvenir? 'Strange' doesn't even begin to cover it.

Sean clears his throat, drawing our attention once more. "I'll take my leave now," he announces. "I need to check on Dumitra's progress. Cedric and Ingvar will patrol the perimeter tonight, ensure you both can rest easy."

Erik waves a dismissive hand. "We've nothing to fear here."

"Nonetheless," Sean insists, his tone brooking no argument.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

A thought strikes me, and before I can stop myself, I'm asking, "But how can they patrol in this weather? It's freezing out there!"

Sean's lips quirk in what might almost be a smile. "Magic tools, little one. They keep us warm even in the harshest conditions."

More 'magical' tools? Christ on a cracker, how many of these things are out there? I want to see them all, dammit. Take them apart, figure out how they tick. The scientist in me is practically salivating at the thought.

As Sean turns to leave, his gaze falls on the severed goblin head still lying on the floor. "Do you want me to take that with me?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

I glance down at the grotesque trophy, then give it a gentle kick with my bare foot. "Oh, you might as well," I chirp, my voice dripping with false sweetness. "But do be a dear and try not to get any more blood on the floor, won't you? And don't forget about the body outside. I'd hate to trip over it in the morning and end up giving it a kiss on the neck stump."

Sean's laughter fills the cottage, a deep, booming sound that seems at odds with his usual stern demeanor. He scoops up the head, tucking it under one arm as if it were nothing more unusual than a sack of turnips.

"As you wish, little one," he chuckles, striding towards the door. "Sleep well, both of you."

And with that, he's gone, leaving Erik and me alone in the suddenly quiet cottage.

The silence doesn't last long. Erik's face contorts into a mask of fury, his emerald eyes blazing with an intensity that could melt steel. He rounds on me, his massive frame seeming to fill the entire room.

"You!" he bellows, his voice reverberating off the walls. "Look at this mess! You've puked in a keg, for Odin's sake! And the armchair... is that mead? Or something worse?" His nostrils flare as he takes in the state of his once-pristine cottage. "And to top it all off, you haven't even cooked a morsel of food!"

I blink at him, momentarily stunned by his outburst. That's what he cares about? When we're basically under attack by goblins and we just recently had one of those creatures in our cottage? The absurdity of it all nearly makes me laugh, but I manage to swallow it down.

"I'm so sorry," I simper, channeling every ounce of childish contrition I can muster. "I'll get to cleaning and cooking right away, I promise!"

Erik's scowl deepens, if that's even possible. "Start with the armchair," he growls. "I want to sit down and read a book without sticking to the damn thing."

I nod vigorously, but before I scamper off, a thought strikes me. "Did you destroy the well?" I ask, my voice small and hesitant.

Erik's expression softens slightly, a flicker of pride crossing his features. "Aye, that we did. Oisin and Cathal lent their strength to the task. We'll have a new one built in a few weeks' time."

I nod again, then hurry to the washroom. I grab a chunk of lye soap and a fresh linen cloth, then return to attack the armchair with gusto. I scrub until my arms ache, the acrid scent of the soap mingling with the lingering odor of mead and... other things.

Finally satisfied, Erik lowers his bulk into the chair with a grunt of approval. I toss a few logs onto the hearth, coaxing the fire back to life, then light some candles and place them on the table.

"Feeling cozy?" I chirp, trying to gauge his mood.

Erik merely grunts in response, his eyes already fixed on the book in his lap. Damn, I really made him angry with all this dirt.

I move to clean up the blood on the floor, my stomach churning at the memory of the goblin's final moments. Once done, I toss the soiled cloth into the washroom bucket with a grimace.

Erik is fully engrossed in his book now, the very picture of a scholarly Viking. My, what an intellectual. I almost snort at the thought but manage to contain myself.

"Want to help me with the cooking?" I ask, knowing full well what his answer will be.

His gaze doesn't even flicker from the page. "Do it yourself," he rumbles. "You've got to make it up to me for letting Sean see the cottage in such a state."

I nod, though he's not looking. "What would you like to eat?"

"Meat," comes the terse reply.

Meat, hmm. I know just the thing. Pork neck, polenta, some goat cheese, onions, and garlic. That should get him to forgive me.

I shuffle over to the drinking bucket in the corner, suddenly aware of how parched I am. I gulp down a mugful of water, then make my way to the cellar. I emerge with an armload of ingredients, laying them out on the table with a flourish.

Erik finally looks up from his book, his brow furrowing. "What are you doing with all that?"

"I'm going to make something really tasty," I declare, injecting a note of childish enthusiasm into my voice.

Erik sighs, the sound heavy with exasperation. "Don't annoy me further this evening," he warns.

"I promise it'll be delicious," I insist, my tone bordering on wheedling.

Another weary sigh escapes Erik's lips as he returns to his book.

As I slice through the pungent onions and garlic, my mind wanders back to the goblin's final moments. The creature's words echo in my head, a haunting refrain in unmistakable New English. "If I eat you, I will be human again." The phrase bounces around my skull like a demented ping-pong ball, each repetition adding another layer of mind-bending horror to this already fucked-up situation.

What in the nine circles of hell is going on here? For the first time since I woke up in this medieval shitshow, I feel a creeping dread crawling up my spine like a venomous centipede. The horror of what might be happening outside these walls threatens to overwhelm me, a tsunami of existential terror crashing against the fragile barriers of my sanity.

Is Sean out there right now, his Spellsinger slicing through the air, cutting down... my people? Are these goblins - these twisted, malformed creatures - actually humans? Humans who've been warped and mutated into something unrecognizable? And Dumitra, that vampiric vixen, is she sinking her fangs into the throats of those who might have once been my contemporaries?

The thought sends a shudder through me, nearly causing the knife to slip. I steady my hand, focusing on the repetitive motion of chopping to anchor myself in the present. But the questions keep coming, a relentless barrage of what-ifs and how-the-fucks.

Where are these goblins coming from? How are they surviving? The one I saw was as naked as the day it was born (or transformed?), without so much as a loincloth to cover its misshapen form. No tools, no tribal markings, nothing to indicate any semblance of civilization. Are they living some kind of neo-primitive existence, scrabbling in the dirt like animals?

But if that's the case, why? How? If they retain knowledge of New English, surely they must remember more than that. The cognitive dissonance is enough to make my head spin. It's like someone took a blender to the fabric of reality, tossed in a healthy dose of body horror, and hit puree.

I try to piece together a coherent theory, but my thoughts keep skittering away like startled rats. Goblin-humans? Homo Goblinus? Goblisapiens? The absurd neologisms pile up in my mind, a tower of Babel built on madness and confusion.

Could this be some kind of twisted experiment? A demented game of evolutionary roulette, with humans as the unwilling participants? Or is it something even more sinister - a deliberate devolution, stripping away the trappings of civilization to create a more... manageable population?

The implications are staggering, each possibility more horrifying than the last. If these goblins are indeed transformed humans, then every creature Sean and Dumitra cut down is a potential person. A scientist, a teacher, a child - all reduced to snarling, feral beasts. It's genocide masquerading as pest control, a holocaust hidden behind the veneer of heroic monster-slaying.

And what does that make me? A collaborator? An unwitting pawn in some cosmic game of chess? Or am I just another potential victim, one bad day away from becoming a goblin myself?

The knife in my hand suddenly feels heavier, more ominous. How thin is the line between human and monster in this world? How easily could I slip across that boundary, losing myself in a haze of bestial instinct and primal hunger?

I shake my head, trying to dislodge these morbid thoughts. But they cling to me like a second skin, a constant reminder of the precariousness of my situation. I'm walking a tightrope over an abyss of existential horror, and the wire is fraying with every passing moment...

The sizzle of onions and garlic hitting the hot pot pulls me back to the present. As I watch the pale slivers turn golden, a question bubbles up from the depths of my churning mind.

"Erik," I chirp, affecting a childish curiosity, "where do goblins come from?"

Erik's emerald eyes flick up from his book, a spark of interest igniting in their depths. "Ah, little one," he rumbles, his voice as rich and dark as the soil after a storm, "they emerge from the very bowels of the earth itself."

I tilt my head, playing up the wide-eyed innocence. "Like worms?"

A deep chuckle reverberates through the room. "Nay, child. Far more sinister than that. In Norway, I once investigated such a hole. It plunged deep into the ground, seeming to have no end. And the deeper I ventured, the warmer it became."

My mind reels at the implications. Warmer? These abominations are crawling up from... the depths of the earth? What in the nine circles of hell is going on here? It's like something straight out of Jules Verne's "Journey to the Center of the Earth," but with a horrifying, nightmarish twist.

I force my features into a mask of childish wonder, even as my brain kicks into overdrive. The scientific implications are staggering. If Erik's words are true, it's entirely possible these creatures inhabit some vast ecosystem deep within the planet's core. The geothermal energy alone could sustain an entire biosphere, hidden from the surface world for millennia.

"Do they... do they just appear?" I ask, my voice quavering with what I hope passes for fear rather than manic excitement.

Erik nods solemnly. "Aye, the holes open up at random, spewing forth hordes of the foul beasts. They descend upon villages in great numbers, leaving naught but destruction in their wake."

I nod, turning back to the pot to hide the gleam in my eyes. The onions and garlic have turned a perfect golden hue. I scoop them out onto a trencher, the pungent aroma filling the air. With practiced movements, I begin cutting the meat into small chunks, my mind still whirling with possibilities.[...]