kill the goblin

Alice’s hand found her sword before she even thought about it. “I’m with Yamaba,” she said sharply, voice echoing off the slick cave walls.

The goblin’s smile faltered. Its eyes darted past Leo, past the rest of them. For the briefest instant, its pupils slit like a cat’s.

Then the torches flared.

The light in the tunnel warped shadows thickening, stretching, moving. Small shapes uncoiled from holes in the rock, crawling from cracks in the walls like insects. Dozens of them.

The cavern erupted in shrieks.

They came fast and low, lion tails whipping, teeth bared in snarling grins that split too wide. Their faces twisted, morphing from deceptively cute to something predatory, lips pulling back like geladas mid-rage, gums flaring and eyes burning gold in the dark.

(Oh hell no. They waited for us.)

Leo’s blade flashed, the air cracking with static as divine lightning arced from his strike. The nearest goblin vaporized into a smear of ash and smoke.

Jolie ducked behind him, staff flaring pink as she threw up a shimmering barrier of ice,

Yamaba didn’t shout, didn’t flinch. Her spirit flames roared to life, drifting upward like cold stars. The ghostly light danced over her armor, igniting the glowing orange cores along her body. Her expression was unreadable, not rage, not fear. Something hollower.

She raised a hand and whispered a command in a dead language. The ground trembled. From the dirt, skeletal arms burst forth, clutching at goblin ankles as wailing spirits dragged them down screaming.

Alice staggered back, awe and dread colliding in her chest. The rune over her heart pulsed cold, resonating with Yamaba’s magic.

The necromancer moved through the chaos like a phantom. Each motion was efficient, merciless, almost too practiced. The ghosts answered her before she even finished speaking, tearing through goblin ranks in a blur of spectral claws.

“Yamaba!” Leo barked over the din, slicing another goblin down the middle. “Save your mana! We need to conserve ”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on a small shape darting between the others, a young goblin, barely grown. It stumbled, terrified, clutching a rusted dagger too big for its hand. Yamaba’s spirit fire froze mid-air, wavering.

For a heartbeat, her expression cracked the mask slipping just enough for Alice to glimpse something raw underneath.

Then the child lunged.

Yamaba’s flame shot forward, swallowing it whole. When the light died, only ash remained.

Alice stood frozen, sword trembling in her hands. Around her, the last few goblins fell silent, the air thick with the scent of ozone and blood.

(That… wasn’t just fighting. That was personal.)

Yamaba turned away, shoulders rigid, voice flat as stone. “They were setting an ambush.”

Leo exhaled, sliding his sword back into its sheath. “Yeah. Good call.”

But Alice’s eyes lingered on Yamaba on the faint tremor in her fingers as she clenched her staff, on the way she wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze.

(Whatever happened to her down here… it’s still happening. She’s just pretending it isn’t.)

The tunnels pressed in tighter as they went, the stale air growing thick with mildew and smoke. Every step echoed too loud, every drip of water sounded like breathing.

Yamaba walked ahead, her ghostly flames drifting close to the ground, their light crawling over jagged stone and rotted wood. She didn’t speak much only when it mattered.

“Tripwire,” she said once, voice low but firm. Her hand shot out, stopping Leo mid-step. She crouched, brushing aside a layer of moss with the end of her staff to reveal a near-invisible filament stretched across the path. “Pulls a lever. Weighted rocks. Crude design.”

Alice leaned closer. The mechanism was nothing but rusted metal and bone fragments tied together with sinew. It looked ancient… but efficient.

“Would’ve crushed your leg,” Yamaba murmured. Her tone carried no surprise, no disgust, just quiet knowledge.

Leo grunted, pulling back. “How the hell did you even see that?”

Yamaba didn’t answer. She only motioned for the others to follow her lead. Her steps were deliberate, tracing a path she seemed to already know.

As they went, she pointed out more traps.

“Pressure plate. Blades swing out waist height.”

“Pitfall. Covered with fungus mats. The spikes are poisoned, not enough to kill, just paralyze.”

“This one ” she pointed to a small alcove rigged with jagged glass shards “ shreds tendons. Keeps prey from running.”

Each description was unnervingly precise, her words carrying the weight of someone who had felt them before.

Alice’s fingers tightened around her sword hilt. (She’s not just guessing. She’s remembering.)

The silence between them stretched thin, heavy with things no one wanted to ask. Even Leo, usually incapable of shutting up, said nothing. His lightning-bright eyes flicked to Yamaba now and then, uncertain, like he wasn’t sure whether to admire her or fear her.

Alice’s rune pulsed cold against her chest as she followed in the necromancer’s wake. (How many traps do you have to survive before you start seeing them in the dark like that? How much pain before it becomes… instinct?)

Further ahead, the tunnels widened, and the faint sound of chattering laughter echoed through the dark. Goblin voices. Dozens of them.

Yamaba stopped dead. Her back stiffened, shoulders trembling ever so slightly before she straightened again. The flames around her dimmed to a cold blue shimmer.

She whispered, almost to herself, “Stay close.”

Leo’s usual swagger had dulled. Even he seemed to sense the weight hanging off Yamaba’s shoulders. He muttered something about efficiency and let her lead.

The further they went, the more alive the Maze felt. Faint laughter drifted from the walls, echoing through cracks where unseen goblins scurried and watched. Eyes glimmered in holes overhead, vanishing when met with Yamaba’s glare.

They avoided fights where they could, cutting down only the creatures that wandered too close: glowing cave lizards, spineback predators, and once, a snarling ash boar that came barreling out of a side tunnel like an avalanche of muscle.

Alice’s **** Knight aura did the rest. The rune over her heart burned cold as she struck, her blade tearing through hide and flesh in two clean arcs. She felt the faint tug of vitality seeping into her the rush of stolen life. It wasn’t warm. It was addictive.

Each corpse went into a core capsule with a faint pop of displaced air. The metal shells gleamed faintly in her hands before vanishing into storage.

They ran after every hunt, never lingering. The goblins weren’t far. Their laughter always followed, closer each time.

After a narrow escape from a swarm of glowbats, Leo finally stopped them in a shallow alcove. “We keep moving like this, we’ll burn out,” he said, scanning the shadows.

Yamaba didn’t answer immediately. She crouched by a blood-smeared wall, fingers tracing a set of claw marks. “They’re driving us somewhere,” she murmured. Her tone was distant, almost hollow. “The Maze shifts. They’ll collapse the tunnels behind us.”

Alice glanced between her and Leo, heart pounding. (So we’re not just walking into the dark. The dark’s walking.)

The group halted when Yamaba stopped dead before a jagged wall. Her head tilted, eyes narrowing. The faint blue glow of her spirit flames reflected off the uneven stone as she stepped forward, running her fingers along the cracks.

“This isn’t natural,” she murmured.

Before Leo could ask what she meant, she pressed her palm against the rock. Mana flared along the seams, tracing ancient lines buried beneath centuries of grime. The wall shuddered then split apart with a grinding sigh, revealing a narrow passage beyond.

A rush of cool air rolled through, heavy with mist.

Alice blinked, stepping in after her. “What the hell…”

The stone wall groaned open under Yamaba’s touch, dust and steam rolling out like breath from an ancient wound. The sound of rushing water filled the new space, cool and sharp after hours of the Maze’s stagnant air.

Alice stepped through and froze.

Before them stretched a hidden cavern, enormous and radiant a world inside the world. A waterfall poured down from some unseen crack far above, scattering mist across a pond so still it mirrored the ceiling. Moss glowed along the walls in shades of emerald and blue, while clusters of bioluminescent mushrooms shone like lanterns among the stones. Mana crystals jutted from the rock, their light rippling across the water’s surface.

It was beautiful. Not the harsh, alien beauty of a dungeon but something soft, deliberate. Lived in.

Yamaba stopped at the threshold, her fingers trembling on her staff. The air caught in her throat as she stared across the pond.

There, half-hidden behind the curtain of mist, stood a small wooden cabin. Crude, but built with care: beams bound with rope, roof patched with clay and moss, a faint curl of smoke trailing from the broken chimney.

Her voice came out hoarse, cracked a sound none of them had ever heard from her before.

“…Grusk.”

Alice blinked, startled.

Yamaba stepped forward, the word tumbling out again, louder this time. “Grusk!”

Her call echoed through the cavern, bouncing off stone and water, fading into the whisper of the falls.

When nothing answered, she called again a sharp, **** cry that shattered her usual calm. “Grusk!”

Leo shifted uneasily, glancing toward Alice, but she didn’t move. Yamaba had gone pale, her molten eyes fixed on the cabin door.

Alice followed her gaze. The door stood slightly ajar. Dust clung to the edges, and faint claw marks scarred the frame deep gouges, like something had clung there long ago.

Yamaba crossed the pond without hesitation, her boots sending ripples through the mirrored surface. Her spirit flames followed, flickering low and uncertain.

When she reached the cabin, she laid her hand against the doorframe. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then she whispered, “He built this for me.”

The others stayed back, silent.

Yamaba pushed the door open. The hinges gave a long, tired groan. Inside, moonlight from a broken crystal lit the remnants of a home: a stone hearth choked with ash, a crude bed of woven hides, and above it, a single wooden carving a small figure of an elf woman holding a child.

Her shoulders trembled. She reached out and brushed the carving with her fingers, tracing its worn edges. “He said… it would be safe here.”

Alice’s throat tightened. She didn’t know what to say didn’t even think words would help. She just stood in the doorway, watching Yamaba in the faint blue glow.

For the first time since entering Fangspire, Yamaba looked fragile, not the spirit-flame necromancer or the unshakable veteran, but a woman standing in the ruins of a life she’d once lived.

The group settled into the cabin as if the quiet itself might shatter. The waterfall outside drowned out most sound, leaving only the whisper of mist against wood and the faint hiss of Yamaba’s spirit flames. The air smelled faintly of moss and smoke.

Leo kicked off his boots, pacing once before finally turning toward her. His expression wasn’t angry exactly, but it carried that sharp edge he got whenever something didn’t add up.

“Alright,” he said, folding his arms. “What the hell is going on, Yamaba? You’ve been leading us like you’ve got a map no one else can see, you find this place, and now you’re calling out an orc’s name like you expect him to answer. You want to fill us in before I start thinking this whole dungeon’s been a setup?”

Jolie froze mid-motion, halfway through unpacking her gear. Alice sat near the door, armor half-unstrapped, pretending to clean her sword but not missing a word.

Yamaba stood by the window, looking out toward the waterfall. For a long while, she said nothing. The spirit flame hovering near her shoulder dimmed, shrinking to an ember.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet softer than Alice had ever heard it. “Grusk,” she said again, the name like ash in her throat. “He was my… lover.”

Leo’s eyes widened, his posture shifting instantly. “Lover?” He blinked, caught completely off guard. “You’re telling me you ”

“Yes.” Yamaba cut him off before he could finish the thought. Her tone didn’t rise, but the steel in it was clear. “Before I met you.”

She turned from the window and leaned against the wall, her staff resting beside her. The flickering light traced her face in shifting golds and shadows. “He was old older than most orcs live to be. Fifty, maybe more in human years. Strong still, but tired. He told me once that he exiled himself. Said he couldn’t stomach taking food from the young anymore.”

Yamaba’s eyes went distant, far away, not seeing the cabin, but something long gone. “There must’ve been famine. He wouldn’t say much about it, only that his tribe was starving. He thought… leaving would make things easier for them.”

Leo sank down onto the nearest crate, elbows on his knees. “And you found him here?”

“He found me,” Yamaba said. “After… after the goblins.” Her voice faltered, the silence that followed thick enough to **** on. “He killed the ones holding me. Broke my chains. He didn’t ask for thanks. Didn’t ask for anything at all. Just told me there was a place deeper in, where the water was clean and the air didn’t stink of blood. He built this cabin from scavenged timber. Called it our den.”

Her hand brushed the wooden carving near the hearth of the one of the elf and child. “He was gentle,” she murmured. “Stronger than anyone I’d met. And kind. So unbearably kind.”

Leo watched her carefully. “You’re skipping something,” he said finally. His tone wasn’t accusing it was knowing.

Yamaba froze. For just a heartbeat, Alice thought she saw fear flicker behind her molten eyes.

“There’s more to this,” Leo leaned forward.

Yamaba’s fingers clenched around her staff, the flame near her shoulder flaring brighter.

For a long moment, she didn’t answer. The waterfall roared outside, drowning everything in white noise.

Then, quietly almost to herself she said, “Some graves are better left unmarked.”

Alice’s stomach twisted. Leo didn’t push further.

The cabin fell into silence again, save for the rhythmic drip of water from the ceiling and the whisper of spirit fire breathing against the dark.

Yamaba didn’t return to the cabin that night. When the others finally fell asleep, Alice slipped outside, following the faint glow of spirit fire drifting behind the waterfall.

The mist clung to her hair as she pushed through the ferns and rounded the edge of the pond. That’s when she saw it a crude mound of stones and soil, ringed with old bones and broken wood. Someone had tried to make a grave marker out of scavenged planks. The surface was carved clumsily, the letters rough and uneven

GRUSK

At its base lay a few offerings a rusted blade, a cracked drinking horn, and a bundle of dried moss tied with string. Alice’s breath caught.

Yamaba knelt before the grave, her green hair trailing into the damp earth. Her spirit flames were dim and flickering, as if struggling to stay lit. She didn’t make a sound, but her hands trembled where they rested on the stones.

Alice hesitated at the edge of the clearing. She’d never seen Yamaba like this stripped of her armor, her command, her chill. Just a woman, sitting before the last trace of someone she’d loved.

Without a word, Alice walked forward. The ground squelched beneath her boots as she sank down beside her.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was the waterfall and the faint hiss of Yamaba’s uneven breath.

Then Yamaba’s shoulders began to shake. Not violently just a quiet, breaking tremor, as though her body had finally stopped obeying her pride.

Alice reached out. She hesitated once then wrapped her arms around Yamaba’s shoulders. The elf didn’t resist. She leaned forward, forehead pressing against Alice’s chest, silent tears soaking into the fabric of her armor.

The spirit flames flickered once, guttered then steadied, low and blue.

Alice rested her chin against Yamaba’s hair. “He mattered to you,” she whispered.

Yamaba nodded weakly. “He saved me,” she breathed. “And I left him here.”

Alice didn’t try to tell her it wasn’t her fault. Words would’ve felt cheap. She just held her, feeling the chill of the necromancer’s mana slowly warm beneath her touch.

Minutes passed or hours, maybe. The waterfall roared on, constant and uncaring. When Yamaba finally drew back, her eyes were rimmed in red, her voice steady again but quiet.

“I buried him myself,” she said, brushing her fingers over the rough carving. “The others… helped build this. My children.”

Alice’s heart clenched, but she said nothing.

Yamaba gave her a small, trembling smile so faint it almost hurt to see. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Alice squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said softly. “Just… don’t do this alone anymore.”

They sat there together beneath the glow of the moss and crystals, two shapes framed in the shimmer of water and memory. The air was cold, but neither of them felt it.

“I never told Leo what really happened,” she began, eyes locked on the crude grave before her. “When I was taken by the goblins… I was their prisoner for years. And during that time, I had three children.”

Alice froze, breath catching.

“They were small,” Yamaba whispered, her lips shaking. “Barely three and a half feet tall even when they were grown. Their ears too big, their hands always tugging at my sleeves.” Her mouth curved, trembling between a smile and a sob. “They called me ‘mama’ in that broken goblin tongue. I should’ve hated them for what they were… but I didn’t. I couldn’t. They were mine.”

Her spirit flames guttered low, faint blue light spilling across the grave.

“When Grusk found me,” she continued, “I thought he’d kill them. Instead, he took them in. Built this place for all of us. He said no child should live chained in darkness. He used to carve little toys for them out of bone and fungus wood.” She swallowed hard, blinking away tears. “He treated them like his own.”

Alice knelt closer, her heart aching as she pictured the old orc surrounded by tiny goblin children, their laughter filling this cavern that now felt so silent.

“They grew fast,” Yamaba said. “Too fast. Goblins always do. But they were still children. Still mine.” She drew a shaking breath. “Then the cave-in happened. The tunnels collapsed, and we were separated. I searched for days. And that’s when I found Leo and Jolie half-dead, lost in the warrens. I helped them reach the surface.”

Her voice wavered. “I told myself that if I went with them, I could come back later. That the children would be safer here. That they’d be happy. But that was a lie.”

She pressed a trembling hand to the mound of stones, tears spilling freely now. “I left them. I abandoned my own children.”

Alice reached out, pulling her close, arms tightening around her shoulders. The necromancer’s body shook, the cold mist of the falls mingling with the heat of her tears.

“I have to find them,” Yamaba whispered against Alice’s shoulder, her voice raw, ****. “Even if they hate me. Even if they don’t remember my face. I need to know they’re alive.”

The campfire burned low, throwing faint orange light against the rough cabin walls. Leo and Jolie were already asleep near the hearth, their armor piled neatly beside them. Alice sat across from Yamaba at the table, sharpening her blade in slow, rhythmic strokes.

Yamaba hadn’t said much since her confession by the grave. Now, she sat on the floor with her knees drawn up, cloak wrapped around her shoulders. The glow of her spirit flame haloed her hair, but her eyes avoided Alice’s.

Finally, she sighed. “You know,” she muttered quietly, “I think I might be the oldest one here.”

Alice blinked. “Wait, really?”

Yamaba gave a **** nod, the corner of her mouth twitching with self-conscious amusement. “I… haven’t exactly been honest about that part. Everyone assumes I’m in my twenties. I didn’t correct them.” She rubbed her arm, looking away. “I’m in my mid-well, late thirties, technically.”

Alice’s whetstone paused mid-stroke. “Seriously? You don’t even look older than me.”

Yamaba groaned softly. “Elves age slower. It doesn’t really count,” she said quickly, the words spilling out in embarrassment. “Besides, I was human when I started. Then the race change… reset things a little. So… technically, I’m not old. Just…” Her voice trailed off, fingers fiddling with the clasp on her cloak. “Experienced.”

Alice smirked faintly. “That’s one way to put it.”

Yamaba’s ears flushed pale pink, and she tried to compose herself, brushing a strand of green hair from her face. “It’s humiliating,” she admitted. “Level thirteen. After everything I’ve survived. After decades. Do you have any idea how pathetic that looks on a status screen?”

Alice’s expression softened. “You’re not weak,” she said quietly. “You lived through things that would’ve broken most people. You raised a family. You’re still here.”

Yamaba exhaled shakily, eyes shimmering faintly in the dim firelight. “I just… I didn’t think I’d ever have to tell anyone this. That I’d be the old one in the group. The one with… history.” She gave a nervous little laugh and glanced at Alice, as if hoping for reassurance. “Besides,” she added weakly, “elves are supposed to be ageless, right? So technically, I’m still young. Right?”

Alice met her gaze and smiled, warmth spreading through her chest despite the cold air. “Right,” she said softly. “Totally young.”

Yamaba’s lips curved, the faintest flicker of a real smile breaking through her exhaustion. She ducked her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of green hair. “You’re awful at lying,” she murmured.

“Yeah,” Alice said with a small grin. “But I meant it.”

For a moment, the two of them sat in comfortable quietly, a tired knight and an ageless necromancer, sharing a fragile peace in the heart of a dungeon.

Alice hesitated only a heartbeat before leaning forward, her voice low and soft. “Hey,” she murmured, catching Yamaba’s chin and kissing her gently.

Yamaba froze eyes wide, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. For a moment she didn’t even breathe.

Alice pulled back with a grin that was half-teasing, half-sincere. “And besides,” she said, “everybody loves milfs.”

Yamaba just stared, her mind blanking out completely. Heat flooded her face, a vivid blush spreading all the way to the tips of her pointed ears. “Wh-what ” she managed, but the words tangled in her throat.

Sure, they’d shared a few moments before the accidental touches, the too-long looks, the morning in the tent when things had gotten out of hand but that was different. That wasn’t this.

Her chest tightened. (She’s joking. She has to be joking. Right?)

Yamaba looked away quickly, hiding her face behind her hair. “You shouldn’t… say things like that,” she muttered. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Alice tilted her head, smirking slightly. “Why not? You’re gorgeous, strong, terrifyingly hot when you’re mad ”

“That’s not the point!” Yamaba interrupted, her voice sharper than intended. She immediately winced, lowering her tone. “You shouldn't, I mean, you know I’m with Leo. And we… we’ve done things, yes, but that doesn’t mean ”

Her words faltered again.

Alice’s teasing smile softened when she saw Yamaba’s trembling hands. “Hey,” she said quietly. “I know.”

Yamaba swallowed, her eyes flicking up to meet Alice’s uncertain, confused, and full of emotions she wasn’t ready to name.

(Why does she look at me like that? Like she means it?)

Alice only smiled gently this time. “I just meant what I said,” she whispered. “You’re amazing, Yamaba. Don’t be embarrassed about who you are.”

Yamaba turned her face away again, but her blush deepened. “You really are trouble,” she murmured.

Leo and Jolie stood facing each other in the cozy log cabin, the only sounds the steady drip of water from the luminescent waterfall outside. Multicolored light filtered in through the small windows, casting rainbow patterns on their skin from the glowing mushrooms and crystals scattered around the cavern.

Jolie's hands found the hem of her tunic, lifting it slowly, teasingly over her head. Her eyes never left Leo's as she bared her luscious curves inch by tantalizing inch. "Like what you see?" she purred.

Leo swallowed hard, drinking in the sight of her toned midriff, perfect breasts, and pink nipples already standing at attention. "Dice yes," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

He reached for the zipper of his jeans, fingers making quick work of it. Jolie watched hungrily, licking her lips in anticipation as he shoved the fabric down over his lean hips, springing his thick cock free. It bobbed between them, hard and leaking.

"Is that for me?" Jolie teased, trailing a single finger up the underside and smirking when Leo's breath caught.

"All for you," he promised. "Now get over here so I can show you just how much."

Jolie needed no further encouragement. She closed the distance between them in a few quick steps and shoved him back onto the furs, straddling his thighs. Her hands never stopped moving, caressing every inch of his alabaster skin she could reach.

Leo groaned, arching into her touch. He reached up, filling his palms with her heavy breasts, thumbs swiping over the stiff peaks. "Jolie," he rasped. "Need you. Now."

"Yes," Jolie agreed, rising up and notching his cock at her slick entrance. "Take me."

With a harsh sound of pleasure, Leo thrust up as Jolie sank down, impaling her on his impressive girth. They both moaned as he stretched her, filled her, completed her. And then they began to move, lost to everything but each other and the pursuit of bliss.

Outside the cabin, the ethereal beauty of the glowing flora was rivaled only by the carnal symphony taking place within, each passionate cry echoing off the cavern walls,

The sound of rushing water filled the cavern, a constant hiss masking subtler noises. The pond’s surface was glassy, the faint shimmer of mana-light drifting across it like liquid moonlight.

Beneath that perfect stillness, something moved.

Ruki’s small frame shifted through the cold water, each stroke silent and precise. She had been waiting for hours breathing through a hollow reed, eyes half-lidded, patient as stone. The intruders had entered her home, their voices strange and careless, their scent unfamiliar.

She had almost fled when they began to laugh and moan, their rhythm echoing faintly through the cave walls. But the noise only confirmed it two fools. Distracted. ****.

Her pulse quickened.

(They don’t belong here. No one does.)

The young goblin surfaced without a ripple, droplets sliding down her dusky green skin. Her pointed ears twitched toward the sound of human pleasure spilling from the cabin. Her tail curled low, muscles tense.

She climbed onto the mossy stones, crouched low, breath steady. The luminescent fungi painted her in hues of green and violet, tattoos glimmering faintly like shadows given shape.

The cabin door stood slightly ajar. A faint draft carried scents of smoke, sweat, and flesh. The smell of trespassers.

Her claws flexed.

Ruki slinked forward, padding silently across the damp wood of the porch. Her reflection flashed for a heartbeat in the window: a small, fierce silhouette framed by the waterfall’s glow.

Inside, Jolie’s voice trembled in pleasure. The sound made Ruki’s teeth bare instinctively, though she didn’t understand why. Rage or fear she couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

She slipped through the door like a whisper, crouching in the shadows.

Leo and Jolie were oblivious. Sheets tangled around their legs, bodies glistening under the soft crystal light. Their weapons lay carelessly against the wall.

Ruki’s breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes darted between them, pupils narrowing into slits. She took one step forward, the old hunting instinct clawing up her spine.

(Quiet. Fast. Kill.)

Her hand reached for the knife strapped to her thigh. The blade’s edge caught the faintest glint of mana light.

But as she drew it, a droplet fell from her hair onto the wooden floorboards drip.

Leo’s head turned, just slightly.

The goblin froze.

Then, in a heartbeat, she lunged

and the entire cabin exploded into motion.

The sound hit first a scream, cut off mid-breath.

Then the crash of something heavy striking wood.

Alice and Yamaba burst through the cabin door together, blades half-drawn, spirit fire flaring to life around the necromancer’s hands.

Inside, the room was chaos.

Leo and Jolie were on the floor, tangled in sheets and half-armor, eyes wide, their bodies slick with sweat. The bed had been overturned, a chair splintered against the wall.

And standing before them crouched low, muscles coiled to strike was a goblin girl.

She couldn’t have been more than three and a half feet tall, but her presence filled the cabin like a storm. Pale, dusky-green skin shimmered under the mana light, slick from the lake outside. Tattoos curled over her limbs in dark, geometric spirals, bold as scars. A long, lion-like tail lashed the air behind her, its tuft twitching in agitation.

Her eyes molten amber, identical to Yamaba's, glowed with a feral, searching light.

Alice froze. Even Leo, reaching for his weapon, hesitated at the intensity of that gaze.

The goblin hissed, backing toward the far wall, teeth flashing sharp and wet. She looked half-wild, half-terrified.

Then Yamaba made a sound, not a word, not yet, just a broken noise caught in her throat. Her hands trembled.

“No…” she whispered. “No, it can’t be.”

The goblin’s ears flicked at the sound of her voice. Her tail stilled.

Yamaba stepped forward at a single pace, spirit flame dimming around her. Her lips parted, and a name slipped out hoarse, fragile, but filled with **** recognition.

“...Ruki?”

The goblin blinked. Once. Twice.

Then her expression softened confusion flickering into something dangerously close to memory.

Leo looked between them, his voice low and strained. “Yamaba… what the hell is happening?”

But Yamaba didn’t answer him. Her eyes were locked on the small creature in front of her, her breath coming uneven. “She’s ” Her voice broke. “She’s mine.”

The goblin shifted her weight uncertainly, claws curling against the wood. “Ma…?”

The word was almost too small to hear, but it hit like a hammer.

Yamaba staggered, tears brimming before she could stop them. She fell to her knees, hand pressed over her mouth. The spirit flame around her sputtered, collapsing into a faint blue glow.

Alice moved instinctively, kneeling beside her, one arm around her shoulders as Yamaba’s composure crumbled. “It’s okay,” she whispered, though she had no idea if it really was.

The goblin crept closer by inches, trembling, sniffing the air as if scent alone could confirm what her heart already knew.

Behind them, Leo and Jolie exchanged a look, part confusion, part disbelief. The tension that had electrified the room moments before now settled into something heavier, more fragile.

Yamaba reached out a shaking hand toward the little goblin. Her voice, barely audible, trembled with everything she had held back for years.

“I thought you were dead.”

The goblin tilted her head, eyes bright with tears she didn’t quite understand.

And for the first time in years, Yamaba let herself cry silent, unrestrained, and human.

The cabin was quiet again, save for the faint hiss of the waterfall and the steady crackle of the fire. Everyone was clothed now, though the air still felt heavy, charged with something deeper than fear.

Ruki sat by the hearth, a blanket draped clumsily around her shoulders. Her damp hair clung to her cheeks, glowing faintly under the mana crystals embedded in the walls. She looked calmer now, wary, yes, but not wild. Her sharp yellow-amber eyes followed every movement in the room with razor focus.

Yamaba knelt before her, trembling hands clasped in her lap. Her spirit flame had gone cold, her mask of calm slipping away entirely. “Ruki,” she whispered, voice trembling.

The goblin girl tilted her head, blinking slowly. Then, to everyone’s surprise, she smiled faint but genuine. “You still say my name the same way.”

Yamaba froze. “You… remember?”

Ruki’s lips curved in a lopsided smirk so reminiscent of Yamaba’s that it stole the breath from Alice’s lungs. “Of course I do, Mom. It’s only been two years, not twenty.”

The necromancer’s composure shattered. She reached forward, pulling Ruki into her arms. The girl tensed for half a heartbeat, then relaxed, small arms wrapping around her mother’s neck.

Leo stood near the doorway, still looking like he wasn’t sure if he was witnessing a miracle or a trap. “Wait. You’re telling me this ” he gestured vaguely, “ this goblin is actually your kid?”

Ruki pulled back just enough to glance at him, her amber eyes flashing. “I’m not a goblin,” she said coolly. “I’m her goblin.”

The confidence in her tone, the faint edge of sarcasm it was pure Yamaba. Leo blinked, momentarily thrown.

Jolie chuckled softly, easing the tension a little. “Guess we know where she gets it.”

Alice sat cross-legged beside them, watching with wide eyes. She hadn’t seen Yamaba this undone before. The normally stoic elf’s shoulders shook, her hand cupping the back of Ruki’s head as though afraid she’d vanish if she let go.

“I thought you died,” Yamaba whispered. “The cave-in when I couldn’t reach you ”

Ruki leaned back, expression softening. “We thought you died. But Grusk he dug us out. Said you must’ve found a way to the surface. We stayed in the old warrens for a while, but the orcs started fighting again. It wasn’t safe.”

Yamaba’s breath caught. “Grusk’s grave,” she murmured.

Ruki nodded once, a shadow crossing her face. “He stayed behind when the tunnels started collapsing again. Said someone had to make sure they didn’t follow us. He told me to run.”

The fire cracked sharply, the sound slicing through the thick silence.

Yamaba covered her mouth, eyes glistening. “Ruki…”

The girl reached out, resting a hand on her mother’s arm. Her voice softened. “I’m okay, Mom. I survived. And I got stronger like you taught me.”

For a moment, Yamaba couldn’t speak. She just held Ruki’s hand, her thumb brushing over the black tribal ink curling around the girl’s wrist. “You really did,” she whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

Ruki smirked again. “Takes after you, remember?”

Even Leo couldn’t help but exhale a quiet laugh. “Alright,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess we’re keeping her, then.”

Alice smiled faintly, but her chest felt tight watching them. She glanced between the two mother and daughter, reunited in the flickering glow and felt something fragile stir in her chest.

The sound of the waterfall filled the cabin again, soft and endless.

The fire had burned low, its orange light spilling across the rough cabin walls. Most of the others had drifted outside, giving them space Leo pretending to “stand watch,” Alice and Jolie lingering near the doorway, listening without intruding.

Yamaba and Ruki sat together on the floor near the small table, the necromancer’s hand resting lightly over her daughter’s. Neither had spoken for a while. The only sounds were the crackle of embers and the slow breath of the waterfall outside.

At last, Yamaba asked softly, “What about your brother? Your sister? I haven’t seen… any trace.”

Ruki’s expression shifted a flicker of pride, then bitterness. She looked away toward the flickering light. “Taro stayed with me for a while,” she said. “But he wanted to prove himself. The orcs were raiding again, and he thought joining them would make him strong.”

Yamaba’s eyes widened. “He’s with the orcs?”

Ruki shrugged, too casually. “Was. Maybe still is. He liked fighting, liked the noise. Guess he took after the other half of the family.”

Her voice faltered for a heartbeat, then steadied. “My sister didn’t. She was always quiet. She… ended up with one of the shamans. Said he’d teach her the ‘old ways.’ I think she’s a servant now.”

Yamaba swallowed hard, her voice cracking. “A servant?”

Ruki’s tail flicked against the floorboards, the motion sharp and irritated. “That’s the nice word for it. She stopped coming home after the first month. Didn’t even look at us when I saw her last. Guess she found something better to worship.”

Yamaba’s hand clenched unconsciously, the faint chill of her aura creeping into the air. “You don’t mean ”

Ruki cut her off with a dry laugh, though her voice wavered. “Relax, Mom. I don’t think they hurt her. Not yet, anyway.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Yamaba stared into the fire, its reflection dancing in her amber eyes. The weight of her own past pressed down like a stone.

Then Ruki said, quietly but with a bitter little smirk, “Guess she took after you too.”

Yamaba flinched as if struck.

Ruki’s tone wasn’t loud or cruel, just tired, hollow. “You left us. She did the same thing. Walked away without looking back. Maybe that’s what we do now. The Kurokawa women just… survive.”

Yamaba closed her eyes, the breath catching in her throat. “Ruki…”

But the girl just looked away, jaw tight, tears gleaming but unshed.

Alice, watching from the doorway, felt her heart twist. (She’s so much like her mother… the same eyes, the same way of pretending it doesn’t hurt.)

Yamaba reached out slow, hesitant and brushed a strand of hair from her daughter’s face. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I did leave you. I told myself I was saving myself so I could come back for you… but I never did. I’m so sorry, Ruki.”

Ruki didn’t answer. She just leaned forward, resting her forehead against her mother’s shoulder.

The necromancer froze for a second then wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close.

The fire burned low, and the sound of the waterfall outside filled the silence that neither of them could break.