Shaking his head out of a strange foggy state, Meekknuckle took in his new surroundings and felt fear pierce his heart. The runt of a Goblin could remember entering the Dungeon but everything after that was blank.

Most concerning though, was the sheer amount of Mana that was suddenly swirling around him. Thick and powerful, it infiltrated the very air, practically choking him with its cloying grasp. As Meek tried his hardest to follow the arcane flow, he realized that he was standing amongst his brothers and sisters, short squalid Goblins, one and all.

His other kin seemed just as woozy and unfocused as he was, some of them visibly wobbling on their feet. His first instinct was to help them, but he quickly realized that it was impossible. His limbs appeared to be rooted in place making him unable to move even the shortest distance.

With his thoughts still hazy, Meekknuckle glanced around the cavern that they all appeared to be trapped in. It was immediately recognizable as part of Kbaxg, the Goblin village he called home. It was the cobblestones that gave it away. They were exactly the same as the ones that lined the Sewers under Dray’Mel. The very ones that the earlier members of the tribe had been forced to break apart to help build his father’s home.

Not that any of that mattered. The most pressing issue was that Ornn was nowhere to be seen. It had been a long time since his protective shadow had left his side. He couldn’t recall the last time it happened. It filled the diminutive Goblin with fright. He was, by Goblin standards anyway, not much of a coward but the presence of a large, looming stone Golem always made him feel safer.

With mounting trepidation, Meekkuckle finally managed to stumble forward a few steps before a loud, bellowing laugh forced his eyes upwards. His trepidation changed to outright terror as he stared up at his Father who loomed in the sky above him.

Finally, the fog cleared in his mind and he realized exactly what was happening. It was the Selection, a once per lifetime ritual that every Goblin in Kbaxg had to go through. A ritual that he’d already experienced…

He tried to say something, anything, to get his siblings attention but his mouth refused to budge. Meek wanted to tell them to flee while they still could. But, with each passing moment, they ignored his desperate, silent pleas and continued to gaze upwards at their father.

“You’ve all grown so very quickly. Safe and sound, protected by the good walls of this village. The same village that raised you. Protected by your elders but more importantly by me, your father. The one who gave each of you life,” His father announced, his voice echoing and ricocheting off the walls of the cavern.

“But it is time to give back to those who have aided you. You have all been selected, given a chance to become a part of something beautiful. Something powerful. You’ve all been chosen to become a part of me,” His father continued as his brothers and sisters stared up at him with pious expressions of concentration.

“And with your sacrifice, the village of Kbaxg will remain strong. It will survive. It will thrive!” Blazock shouted with a euphoric look on his face. “Bear witness to the power of the Gods Below and rejoice! For all of you are to become the very lifeblood of our village!”

Reaching out before him, The old Goblin smiled sadistically, showing off his razor-sharp teeth, and he swept his gnarled hand outwards as an invisible force washed over the assembled Goblins. Meekknuckle shuddered as his brothers and sisters realized the danger too late, unable to move as they were held down by the unseen Mana.

Harvest…

It happened slowly, some of the Goblins beginning to choke, turning blue in the face. Then they convulsed, twitching under Father’s power. Some collapsed, vomit spilling down their chest as Meekknuckle watched in horror.

He was forced to watch, breathless, as his sibling's small bodies buckled under the weight, their Mana being stripped from their withering husks. The lucky few died quickly, but the more resilient of them lasted for what felt like forever, gasping desperately for air that would never again fill their lungs.

As the last of his siblings died, silence reigned absolute. Meekknuckle tore his eyes away from the nearest corpse, his youngest sister Writha. She was laying in a pool of her own fluids, her body nothing more than a shriveled husk. The remains of her tattered pink dress were draped over it. She had been a bright Goblin and now…she was gone.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Looking up again, Meekknuckle could see the absolute disinterest in his Father’s eyes, even as his skin started to lose its creases, the wrinkles smoothing out. His sclera changed from yellow to brilliant white. He stretched out his limbs and back, obviously free from the aches and pains that came with old age. Before Meekknuckle’s very eyes, the ancient patriarch of the village defied time and death with a wave of his hands.

Meekknuckle had no idea how much time had passed before his father’s eyes flicked to him for the first time. He could see the interest that bloomed in them but it was closely followed by an unsettling hunger. It was terrifying to see such desire in the usually soulless eyes.

He backed away, tearing himself free from the frightening gaze. He turned and started to run out of the cavern blindly, only to find himself crashing into something solid. Looking up, he felt overwhelming relief. It was Ornn! The massive golem hadn’t even shifted when confronted with his minuscule weight. Grinning up at his only friend, Meekknuckle let out a cry of happiness and embraced the giant stone creature’s left leg in a happy hug.

For the briefest of moments, all was right with the world again. He could do his best to forget about the mindless slaughter that he witnessed. He would concentrate on Ornn and their friendship, concentrate on cheese…anything to rid his mind’s eye from the sight of his siblings being reduced to dust.

But then…

He felt Ornn’s large stone hand clasp him by the head. Lifting him into the air like he was nothing, Ornn’s grip got tighter and tighter. Meekknuckle let out a cry of pain as the golem held him in a vice-like grip, his skull starting to fracture. With a final flex of his unyielding hand, the thick stone fingers pierced through his bone and into his soft flesh.

Almost screaming in pain now, Meekknuckle did the only thing that he could. Reaching down deep into his Mana pool, he drew forth a swell of power. He shaped it into a bubble and, pushing outwards with all his magical strength, the diminutive Goblin broke through Ornn’s grip, sending the stone creature flying away from him like a repelling magnet. Through blood-clouded eyes, Meekknuckle saw a shimmering barrier surround his small body.

Yet he couldn’t keep it up for long, the searing pain in his head was too much to bear. He collapsed in a puddle of his blood, the metallic taste strong in his mouth as it dripped freely from his nose. And yet, despite the pain, all he could think about was how wrong this situation was. No matter what he did, what he said, Ornn always protected him. His stoic guardian.

And it was that thought that carried him forward. Wiping the blood from his eyes, Meekknuckle smiled at his protector.

“I know it wasn’t you Ornn…” He said. It didn’t make sense of course. He was bleeding from his nose, his ears, even his eyes. Hells, his skull was pierced in five different places and yet he wasn’t dying. He felt…normal?

Ornn stared back at him, the stone Golem’s expression neutral, still affixed in his customary scowl. His hand, his thick stone fingers, they were clean…

“It’s just an illusion Ornn,” Meekknuckle continued. Of course, it was! Ornn would never hurt him and that was where the Dungeon had failed. “This is all an illusion and I won’t let it keep hold of me…”

Closing his eyes tightly, Meekknuckle took a moment to gather himself. Whoever or whatever had created this illusion was strong. It had almost sucked him in. He took hold of his brimming Core and slowly began to circulate his Mana into the air. Each unrelenting wave of his essence started to clear the fog afflicting his mind.

It wasn’t long before he was able to fully purge himself of the invasive Mana that had been trying to overtake his small body. While it was a simple enough trick, he was beginning to worry about how the others would deal with it. Even Skrakch who was the most magically inclined of his comrades was but an amateur wizard.

Now free of the invading Mana, Meekknuckle opened his eyes, blinking away some of the blurriness. Ornn was standing in front of him, one of his massive hands holding onto Meek’s shoulder. As always, his friend’s face was impassive but even so, Meekknuckle could still feel the concern inside.

He smiled and patted his companion’s hand. Taking in a large breath of fresh air, Meekknuckle quickly scanned the area for any threats. He saw Skrakch and Winfried looking as though they were trapped in some kind of weird mime. The Ratling was laughing silently, head thrown back and one paw pointing at an imaginary foe. Winifred appeared to be locked in combat, throwing out punches and kicks and dodging.

Zacharias however, was leaning against a large rock, twirling a pair of daggers in his hands. The Halfing looked bored although he showed an expression of mild interest when he realized that he was being watched.

“Looks like we just gotta wait this out mate,” He said casually, nodding towards Winifred and Skrakch.

Meekknuckle nodded. As concerned as he was about his companions, there was nothing he could do. They would need to dip into their own Mana and use their inner strength to break free from their demons.

The adventure so far had only served to make him starving hungry. Luckily, he’d prepared for such an eventuality. Meekknuckle reached into his backpack, rooting around until he located his prize. A large block of moldy cheese. Ignoring the Halfling’s complaints about the smell, Meekknuckle dug into his treat happily.