Silent Ends

We cleared out the rest of the village. The goblins were scattered around in small groups—sloppy, overconfident, half-drunk, or dozing. One by one, we cut them down.

Shadowheart moved fast between the ruins, her steps quiet and precise. She favored a clean strike to the back of the head with her mace, a hollow "thud" and barely a splatter. More than once, I saw her mouthing a silent prayer over a clean kill. Purposeful. It was like a routine for her.

Lae’zel was less subtle, but no less deadly. She wielded her heavy paladin blade like a scalpel, slipping up behind a sentry and slicing the head before they could cry out. She didn’t speak, didn’t gloat. Cold. Professional. Efficient.

Karlach? She was the storm to our stealth. When subtlety failed—or wasn’t invited—she barreled through with sheer enthusiasm. One patrol caught sight of us too early. Before they could shout, Karlach was on them, cleaving one goblin in half with a roar. "Too slow, suckers!" she laughed, stomping the second flat. After each kill, she'd throw a grin over her shoulder and bark something absurd like, "That’s how you bring the heat!" or "Next!"

Twelve down in total, counting the welcoming committee. We hadn’t yet planned how to deal with the goblin camp, but the girls had carved a bloody hole in their outer patrols. It would buy us time until we figured out how to approach it.

We set up camp just south of the village. None of us wanted to sleep in that place—it reeked of goblin blood and charred tiefling.

Dinner was half-hearted. Nobody ate much. The dried rations sat in our hands like dead weight. Even Karlach barely chewed through her usual jerky. “Food tastes worse when you’ve watched someone get eaten,” she said, trying to keep it light. No one laughed.

We settled around the fire, letting the day ease out of our bones. There was no victory celebration. Just shared glances and the kind of quiet that follows a day of hectic arguing, efficient **** and cannibal trauma.

"You two were quick out there," I said, nodding toward Lae’zel and Shadowheart.

Lae’zel gave a curt nod, inspecting her blade. "Goblins are not warriors. They are pests."

Shadowheart stretched, leaning back on her hands. "Pests with a lot of knives. But we handled it."

Karlach snorted. “I don’t know how you two sneak around so quietly. I breathe too loud for that.”

“You talk too loud for that,” Shadowheart said with a smirk.

Karlach grinned. “...Fair.”

The fire crackled.

Lae’zel stood first, looking at no one in particular. "I will rest. We have more to do tomorrow." She walked to her bedroll with her usual stiffness—but there was less tension in her steps. Less hostility. Progress, maybe.

Karlach yawned and stood as well. She stretched, arms overhead, back popping audibly. "I’ll, uh, turn in too. Give you two some... alone time. Y’know. Whatever."

Shadowheart gave a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Subtle.”

Karlach winked at her and sauntered off, humming some tune that probably didn’t exist.

Shadowheart looked across the campfire at me. Her expression was open, unguarded in a way I hadn’t seen before. She stood.

"Are you coming?"

I followed her to the edge of camp—her preferred spot. Far enough from the fire to be cool, close enough to feel safe.

She turned to face me, her green eyes meeting mine.

“I’m ready,” she said.