Within The Elderwoods, Early Morning,

"You think we covered enough Sis?"

"Everything but the roof, brother"

" Meh ... that works for me; light it up."

"Gladly."

I raised my hand and extended it outward. With a snap of my fingers, a tiny flame sprang to life. I blew gently, sending a stream of fire toward the trail of soot we'd scattered. And just like that, the fireworks started.

"Splendid, isn't it, brother?" I asked, watching the blaze.

"Spectacular indeed, though a bit over the top, don't you think? Not that I'm complaining."

I scoffed. "No one will be living in such a place now, will they?"

"Fair enough."

We watched as the cottage collapsed in seconds, the fire consuming it entirely, before we turned our backs and headed away. Nothing but dust would remain of the place that twisted old hag called home.

-~-

"Ugh. Is it just me, or have we been walking this same path for hours?!"

"Brother, it's been fifteen minutes."

"Well, it feels like hours! Look around! You can't tell me we haven't passed these same trees two or three times already!"

"We're almost there," I muttered, feeling the creeping unease as the familiar stench hit my nose. "I can already smell it... and no, I'll never get used to it."

"And you'll never have to again. Not if everything goes according to plan."

"Yeah... if it does..."

I suddenly stopped, my fingers fiddling nervously with the cuff of my coat.

"Amaye?"

"I-It's nothing... just... this could be it, you know? We've planned for this moment with utmost care, but you can't deny things could go south... just like that, and—"

"... Amaye…"

I trailed off, unable to finish. What we were about to do could be our end, and I'd already lost too much, too fast. Then I felt my brother's hands close around mine.

"Sis, listen. We're gonna be okay. There's no way fate's kicking us off now, not after everything it put us through these last four weeks. Besides, do you remember what we were taught about them? Brains no bigger than vermin."

"Meant to be no bigger than vermin," I corrected. "But he—"

"—He's just an overgrown, arrogant lizard, and he's finally getting what's coming."

Brother moved beside me, offering his elbow with a confident grin.

"Now, let's go show that cold-blooded bastard why screwing with us was the worst mistake of his short, pathetic reign."

"R-Right!"

I took Hiroshi's elbow, drew a deep breath, and we pressed on. We started down a steep, winding trail, and the forest seemed to close in on us as we reached the bottom. The trees towered overhead, their grotesquely twisted branches weaving a dense, shadowy canopy that choked off most of the weak morning sunlight. The ground beneath us was uneven, swallowed by a thick, rolling fog that reached our knees and clung to layers of moss and fallen leaves, muffling our every step.

We trudged deeper, stumbling over the concealed roots that snaked across the forest floor, nearly tripping us at every turn. The air grew colder and more musty, saturated with the earthy scent of damp soil and rotting wood, punctuated by the occasional sharp bite of sulfur. After winding through the underbrush for what felt like an eternity, we finally stumbled upon a cave entrance obscured by a dense curtain of vines.

"You know," Hiroshi began as we pushed through the tangled vines and into the cave's shadowed mouth, "I know what I said earlier, but you have to hand it to them. Hiding out in a place like this with what they have going on is remarkably admirable."

"Yeah, you have a point there," I replied.

Inside, the cave was surprisingly intriguing despite its dubious inhabitants. The space opened up into a large, circular chamber, dimly illuminated by translucent crystals embedded in the ceiling. These crystals filtered the scant sunlight into a warm, golden glow that was the sole redeeming feature of the cavern. Beyond that, everything fit its owners' chaotic style to a tee.

The walls were rough-hewn and scarred, while the floor was strewn with discarded trinkets, makeshift furniture, and a carpet of meter-long shed skin of scales, still in the early stages of decay. The air was thick with the pungent mix of stale smoke, unwashed bodies and rotting teeth. Flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows, revealing crude carvings and tattered banners that fluttered haphazardly. Each banner bore the same strange words – G'rath T'blon – which roughly translates to "Blinded Peaks. in their language" It made absolutely no sense, but then again when having goblins ever made sense?

Of all the intelligent beings scattered across the world, goblins are the last ones anyone would choose to meet, no matter the circumstances. With IQs on par with the shrewdest of rodents that scavenge through refuse with their tiny claws, one might wonder why they're even worth a second glance.

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Is it their foul, gas-burner breath? The lidless eyes that beg for a break from their own forked tongues? Or perhaps the fact that their attire consists solely of the scraps of skin they've shed?

No, it's the sheer annoyance they bring. Goblins are an irritating, cold-blooded lot. In most encounters, they trigger confrontation but are as easily dealt with as swatting a fly. After all, their grasp of magic is minimal at best.

Yet, it's not unheard of for a sizable group of these dim-witted creatures to gain the upper hand against a few unsuspecting intruders who stumble into their domain unprepared. In rarer instances, these groups display an unsettling level of organization. We may not be fools, but we had to face one of those exceptionally coordinated goblin gangs for the past four weeks.

"...Hhhhiiiiisssss…"

The moment we crossed the threshold, a sea of yellow eyes fixated on us, their malevolent gleam cutting through the dim light. If not for our predicament, we'd have been dead already. A swarm of thirty or so would hardly favour us. Fortunately, we carry a sort of grudging respect here—a pass, to be exact. This pass allows us to move unimpeded, provided the big shot himself approves. And right now, we're here to see that very big shot.

Three gaunt, sickly green goblins emerged as we approached a rickety shack, their noses twitching unsettlingly close. Others materialized behind us, swiftly surrounding us in a menacing circle.

Fear painted my face, a canvas of terror evident to them from their cruel, snickering laughter. Meanwhile, Brother maintained a veneer of calm, sweat beading on his forehead. Despite the encroaching goblin ranks, his composure remained steady as he spoke.

"We have what we were sent out to receive for the master."

The goblin facing him straightened, trying to assert some semblance of goblin dominance. It snapped its long, curled, fungus-encrusted claws. At its signal, other goblin enforcers surged forward, confiscating our bags and patting us down thoroughly. A blindfold was hastily tied around my eyes, and before I could react, my grip on Brother's arm was wrenched away.

The last sounds I heard were the hissing and grunting of the goblins as I was led away, shrouded in darkness and uncertainty.

-~-

"Cough! Cough!… Cough! … Blegh! … R-Remove his gags!"

The filthy rags were yanked off my face, leaving me squinting as I found myself perched on a rickety stool inside the old shack. The place reeked of dampness and decay, a cramped, moss-ridden warehouse where stray patches of plant life struggled to appear less ominous. At the back, a chaotic collection of valuable goods glittered in the gloom—jewels, piles of gold and silver, shimmering like bait for the desperate. Two plain, ordinary bags sat oddly among these treasures, one with a pointed hat draped lazily over it, far too out of place.

My eyes darted around, taking in every detail. Sis wasn't here. The sinking realisation hit fast—they'd separated us. These wretched reptiles had known us long enough to understand how much we meant to each other. They knew we'd never risk one another for anything, not even for this.

Six hulking, muscular goblins surrounded me, one holding my bag up, while the others had their rough stares directed at me, sharper than the rusted weapons they held. Another blocked the door while the others stood ready, itching for a reason to strike. Across the cluttered table, a seventh goblin sat atop three battered books upon a taller stool, serving as his throne. This one was different—small, patch-eyed, with skin that looked like it was rotting from the inside out. He was their leader, "the master," a goblin blessed (or cursed) with more brains than most of his kind.

"After three days, figured you'd be halfway digested by now," he rasped, coughing between each sneer.

"Where's my sister?" I spat, voice harsh with barely concealed fury

"Heh, heh, heh... she's safe, for now... ," he wheezed, eyes gleaming with sick amusement. "But that can change real quick, ain't that right, boys?"

More laughter erupted from the others, a sick, mocking chorus.

The goblin leader leaned forward, coughing again. "If you wanna keep her that way, you'd better make sure I like what I hear from you."

Beneath the table, my hand clenched into a tight fist. The urge to tear through them all, starting with him, burned hotter with every second.

"Did ya get it?" His voice came out as a wheeze, each word dragging like it took effort.

"Yes," I replied hesitantly before raising an extended finger at the goblin clutching the sack. "It's in there."

The small goblin's bloodshot eyes flicked towards the goblin holding it, a cough shaking through him as he snapped his decaying, fungus-riddled fingers. The lackey didn't waste a second, rushing to his boss's side and fumbling with the string. Slowly, the bag opened, revealing a severed head—half-cooked, wrinkled, and dripping with a rancid stench.

With a twisted grin, the smaller goblin snatched the head up, his sickly, clawed fingers sinking into its crevices with grotesque precision. He ran his nails along its scalp, curling into the ear and nose holes as if savouring every inch of decay. Then, with a slow, deliberate inhale, he brought the head to his face, relishing the foul stench like it was some fine delicacy.

"Heh, heh, heh! You outdid yourselves this time. Knew I was right the second my boys fished ya out of that river all those weeks ago."

He raised the head high, staring into its lifeless eyes as if he'd claimed his ultimate prize. "What better way to kill a witch than with another?" His laughter quickly turned into a violent, raspy cough. With a final wheeze, he tossed the head aside and turned his attention back to me, waving a hand.

"Well, now... seems everything's accounted for," the goblin rasped, wiping the back of his hand across his rotting lips. "You did the job for four long weeks, bringing me exactly what I requested. Despite all the danger, it dragged in… must've been a hassle for kids who looked like they've had it easy their whole lives."

"No, it wasn't easy... we almost kicked the bucket more times than I can count, going up against everything this cursed forest threw at us," I replied, my voice sharper than intended.

"That's the Elderwoods for ya," the goblin grinned, yellow teeth glinting beneath his cracked lips. "Never meant to be a tourist trap. Only an idiot would wander here, let alone live here, so it's the perfect spot to lay low. Nobody in their right mind would expect to find a goblin in these parts—heh heh—am I right?" His laugh twisted into a coughing fit. "Cough! Cough! Blegh!"

He let out a gag, coughing once more before regaining his breath. "Well then, witch boy... looks like I've got my end of the deal to hold up, don't I?"

With a snap of his brittle fingers, a scar-faced goblin stepped forward, holding out two blank sheets of parchment. At first glance, the papers seemed ordinary, save for a single drop of dried blood in the corner. The smaller goblin narrowed his eyes, lifting the pages toward the slivers of sunlight cutting through the crystal-lined ceiling. As the light hit the parchment, faint symbols flickered to life, revealing an intricate web of cryptic writing that shimmered across each sheet.

"Ahhh... there it is." The goblin's lips curled into a sly grin, his yellowed eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've always had a soft spot for the kind of magic that forces others to dance to your tune. Binding contracts... they've always been my favourite toys. Before my boys fished you and your sister out of that riverbed, I thought these would sit gathering dust forever... unused, forgotten... then you came along."

He lowered his head, his grin turning more sinister as he tilted in my direction, as if trying to look right through me despite the patches covering his eyes.

"Which begs the question, doesn't it?" he croaked, "Why in all the realms -cough!- would you have ever thought that I'd even think of tearing these up ... when you've proven to be far too useful to let go?"