The hobgoblin's corpse lay in the ash and broken timber. Blood pooled around it, soaking into the scorched earth.

  Skuggi turned to his companions. Erik had slumped against the cellar entrance, one hand pressed to his bandaged side. His face had gone gray. Astrid knelt beside him, checking the wound with practiced efficiency. Olga stood apart, arms wrapped around herself.

  "How bad?" Skuggi asked.

  Astrid peeled back the bandage. Blood had soaked through, fresh and bright. "The cut's clean. No sign of infection yet. But he's lost blood. Needs rest, proper food, time to recover."

  Erik's eyes were glassy. Shock settling in properly now that the immediate danger had passed.

  "Can he walk?" Skuggi asked.

  "For a while. Not fast. Not far."

  Skuggi looked at the distance they'd need to cover. Two miles through forest at night with undead goblins still roaming. Erik would slow them down. If they encountered another group of monsters...

  The waterskin of holy mead hung at his belt. Myn An had said it burned undead. Reacted to necromantic energy.

  But Erik wasn't undead. He was just wounded.

  Skuggi pulled the flask free. Uncorked it. The liquid inside caught what little moonlight filtered through the trees, pale, almost luminescent.

  "What are you doing?" Astrid asked.

  "Testing something." Skuggi crouched beside Erik. "This might hurt. Or it might help. I don't know which."

  He poured a small amount onto the bandage. The fabric absorbed it, darkened.

  Erik's back arched. His mouth opened but no sound came out. His hands clenched into fists.

  Then his breathing steadied. The tension in his body released.

  Astrid pulled the bandage away. The wound underneath had changed. The edges had drawn together, angry red fading to pink. Not fully healed—still a visible cut—but hours of natural healing compressed into seconds.

  "How…" Astrid looked at the flask, at Erik's wound, at Skuggi. "That's not possible."

  "It's blessed by a goddess," Skuggi said. "Apparently that means it does more than just burn the dead."

  He corked the waterskin. They'd need what remained for the journey back.

  Erik touched his side carefully. His fingers came away with only a trace of blood instead of the flow that had been there before. "I can feel it. It's... it's still there but it doesn't…" He looked at Skuggi. "Thank you."

  "Can you walk now?"

  Erik pushed himself upright. Swayed slightly but stayed standing. "Yes. I think so."

  They started moving. Skuggi led, the hobgoblin's sword was nowhere to be found, so he took one of the guards laying dead, in his right hand, his knife in his left. Astrid and Olga stayed close to Erik, supporting him when he stumbled.

  The forest was different at night. Sounds that seemed innocent during the day took on threatening weight. Every rustle could be goblins. Every shadow could hide enemies.

  Skuggi's senses stayed open. He smelled for the rot-sulfur scent of monsters. Listened for the shuffling gait of the undead. Watched for movement that didn't match wind patterns.

  They'd covered maybe half a mile when Erik spoke.

  "Those blades, the ones that came out of your wrists." His voice was quiet. "Does it always hurt like that?"

  Skuggi didn't look back. "Yes."

  "And you can just... make them appear? Whenever you want?"

  "If I'm willing to pay the cost."

  "Which is?"

  "Tearing my own skin open. Forcing bone through flesh. Feeling every second of it." Skuggi pushed aside a low-hanging branch. "These things came with limitations. Pain is one of them."

  Erik was quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry. For what you did for us."

  "Don't be. I'm alive and so are all of you. That's more than enough."

  They walked in silence after that. Erik's breathing gradually became less labored. The holy mead had done its work, his body was recovering faster than it should, energy returning.

  But his eyes still held that glassy quality. The mental exhaustion of combat, of seeing death up close, of nearly dying himself. That couldn't be healed with blessed water or accelerated tissue repair. That required time and rest and the slow process of the mind accepting what the body had endured.

  They were maybe a quarter mile from the settlement when Skuggi heard footsteps approaching. Fast, purposeful. He raised his hand. Everyone stopped.

  A figure emerged from the trees ahead. Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the particular gait Skuggi had learned to recognize.

  Jurgen.

  The mute hunter saw them and his whole body relaxed. He jogged the last few yards, signs already flying.

  Safe? Wounded? Where there any sights of the hobgoblin?

  "Dead," Skuggi said. "Back at the ruined village. Erik's injured but stable. Astrid and Olga are unhurt."

  Jurgen's eyes moved over the group, cataloging details. Then focused on Skuggi. His hands moved through a longer sequence of signs.

  Skuggi caught most of it: horde, left, turned around, went somewhere else.

  "The undead left the settlement?"

  Jurgen nodded vigorously. Signed: surrounded us, then stopped. Stood there. Then turned and walked away. All of them. Like they got new orders.

  Skuggi thought about that. The hobgoblin had been controlling them, coordinating their movements, giving commands. When it died, what happened to that control?

  Either the undead collapsed without an owmer, or...

  Or something else took over. Something that called them back to wherever they were based.

  "Did anyone follow them?" Skuggi asked.

  Jurgen shook his head. Signed: Aionel wanted to. I said wait for you. Too dangerous at night.

  Smart. Following undead goblins in darkness when you didn't know their capabilities or destination was a good way to get killed.

  "We'll track them tomorrow," Skuggi said. "In daylight. Find where they're coming from."

  Jurgen signed something about the hobgoblin's body. Skuggi caught: valuable, merchants, money.

  "You want to retrieve the corpse?"

  A nod. Jurgen's hands moved: rare creature. Higher goblin. Worth gold to right buyer. We need supplies. Money buys supplies.

  That made sense. They'd been operating on scavenged resources and whatever they could hunt or forage. Actual coin would let them trade for tools, weapons, proper materials for construction.

  "Tomorrow," Skuggi said. "After we track the undead. We'll get the body on the way back."

  Jurgen seemed satisfied with that. He moved to Erik's other side, took some of the young man's weight from Astrid. Together, they made better time.

  The settlement appeared through the trees. Torches burned along the defensive wall. People moved on the perimeter, watch rotations, Skuggi assumed. Alert for the return of the goblin horde.

  Aionel spotted them first. He was called down from his position on the wall. "Skuggi! You made it back!"

  The gates opened. Not real gates yet, just gaps in the wall that had been left for access. But they'd be fortified soon.

  People gathered as the group entered. Gunnar pushed through the crowd, saw his wife and daughter, made a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. He pulled them both into an embrace that looked painful in its intensity.

  Erik's mother appeared. She grabbed her son, checked him for injuries, and started crying when she saw the healing wound on his side.

  Skuggi stood apart from the reunions. Let people have their moments.

  Aionel approached. "The hobgoblin?"

  "Dead."

  "You're sure?"

  "I put a blade through its throat. It's not getting up again." Skuggi paused. "But we have a problem. The undead it was controlling didn't collapse when it died. Something else is animating them. Something we need to find and destroy."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Tomorrow," Aionel said. "Tonight, we rest. Half the settlement is exhausted from preparing for an attack that never came. We need sleep before we can do anything else."

  He called for a gathering. Not everyone, just the fighters, the decision-makers, the people who needed to know what came next.

  They met near the central fire. Skuggi, Aionel, Jurgen, Torsten, Gunnar, Astrid, Myn An, Hilde, Egil. A dozen others who'd proven themselves capable during the crisis.

  "Tell us what happened," Aionel said.

  Skuggi recounted it. The tracking, finding Erik and the others, the confrontation with the hobgoblin. He left out the bone blades—that was information people didn't need yet. Just said he'd killed it in close combat with weapons he had available.

  When he finished, Gunnar spoke. "The creature talked to you. Said there were others like you."

  "Yes."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning the alchemists who made me have made others. Different modifications for different purposes. The hobgoblin was designed to lead goblin forces. I was designed for..." Skuggi stopped. "I don't know exactly what I was designed for. Combat, clearly. But the specifics, I escaped before they finished explaining my purpose."

  "There could be more out there," Astrid said. "More modified creatures. More experiments."

  "Almost certainly."

  That settled over the group like a weight. One hobgoblin had nearly destroyed them. The idea of others, potentially worse, potentially designed for mass destruction, was sobering.

  "One crisis at a time," Aionel said. "Right now, we have undead goblins somewhere in the forest. We need to find them, destroy them, and make sure they can't threaten us again. Skuggi, you said you'd track them?"

  "In daylight, see where they went and what they're doing."

  "And then?"

  Skuggi looked at Myn An. "How much holy mead can you make?"

  The young priest's hands twisted together. "I made one small flask in ten minutes. But that exhausted me. To make more, to make enough" She looked around the circle. "How much would we need?"

  "Enough to destroy forty undead goblins," Skuggi said. "Completely. So they can't rise again."

  Myn An's face went pale. "That would require... gallons. Tens of gallons. And not just time. I'd need other believers. People with faith strong enough to channel Líf's power through the ritual."

  "I used some tonight," Aionel said. "During the siege that never happened. A few undead tried to climb the walls. Myn An threw some of the blessed water at them."

  He gestured for her to continue.

  "It worked," she said. Her voice was small but steady. "Better than I expected. The liquid touched their skin and they… they twisted. Screamed, though they shouldn't be able to make sounds if they're truly dead. Their flesh started to disintegrate. Smoke rose from the wounds. Two of them fell and didn't get up again. The others retreated."

  "So it works as a weapon," Torsten said.

  "It works as purification," Myn An corrected. "The undead are abominations. Life corrupted into un-life. The holy mead restores the natural order. Forces them back to true death."

  "Can you make enough?" Skuggi asked again.

  Myn An looked at her hands. "If I have help. If others are willing to participate in the ritual, to lend their faith. And if I have time. Days, not hours. The process can't be rushed without losing potency."

  "How many days?"

  She calculated silently. "Five. Maybe six. For the amount you're describing."

  Skuggi looked at Aionel. "Can we hold them off for five days if they attack again?"

  "If we know they're coming? If we're prepared? Yes. Probably." Aionel didn't sound certain. "But I'd rather not test that if we have another option."

  "We do," Skuggi said. "I find their nest. Scout it completely. Learn their patterns, their numbers, their weaknesses. Then we plan an assault. Use the holy mead as our primary weapon. Destroy them before they can organize another attack."

  "That's a lot of unknowns," Hilde said.

  "Yes. But it's better than waiting for them to come to us."

  No one argued with that logic.

  "Five days," Aionel said to Myn An. "Can you do it? Make enough holy mead for an assault?"

  "If people help. If they truly believe." She looked around the circle. "I'll need volunteers. People willing to pray with me, to channel their faith into the ritual. It's not dangerous, but it's exhausting. And it requires genuine belief in Líf's power."

  "I'll help," Gunnar said immediately. "My family was saved tonight. The goddess deserves my faith."

  Others murmured agreement. Not everyone—there were still followers of Hella in the group, still people uncertain about which deity held their loyalty. But enough. Maybe a dozen willing participants.

  "Then we have a plan," Aionel said. "Skuggi tracks the undead tomorrow. Finds their base. Reports back. We spend the next few days preparing—making holy mead, gathering weapons, training anyone who can fight. On the fifth day, we attack. Destroy the threat completely."

  "And retrieve the hobgoblin's body," Jurgen signed. Aionel translated.

  "Why?" someone asked.

  "Because it's valuable," Skuggi said. "Rare creatures fetch high prices from merchants. We need coin. This gives us a way to get it."

  Gunnar leaned forward. "I know the trade routes. Before the raids destroyed our village, we had contacts with traveling merchants. They came through twice a year, heading to and from the larger settlements. One of them dealt in monster parts, rare specimens. He'd pay well for a higher goblin corpse."

  "When's the next caravan?" Aionel asked.

  "Should be in three weeks. They follow a schedule pretty strictly."

  "Then we have time." Aionel looked at Skuggi. "Tomorrow, you and Jurgen retrieve the body. Preserve it however you can. When the merchant comes, we'll negotiate."

  The meeting dispersed. People returned to their shelters or watch positions. The night continued, quieter now that immediate danger had passed.

  Skuggi found a spot near the fire. Sat down and let the warmth work into muscles that had been tense for hours.

  Freia appeared beside him. She'd been quiet during the meeting, just observing.

  "You found answers tonight," she said. "About what you are."

  "Some. Not enough."

  "The hobgoblin said there were others. Made by the same people who made you."

  "Yes."

  "Are you going to look for them?"

  Skuggi looked at his hands. The skin on his wrists showed no trace of what he'd done, no scars, no marks. Just the ghost of pain that would fade eventually.

  "Maybe. After this is finished. After the settlement is secure." He met her eyes. "You asked to come with me when I left. Does that still stand?"

  "Yes."

  "Even knowing what I am? What I can do?"

  "Especially knowing that." She pulled her knees up, rested her chin on them. "I told you before, I'm not meant for settling. For farming and building and staying in one place. When you leave to find answers, I want to help you look."

  "It'll be dangerous."

  "Everything's dangerous. At least this would be dangerous for a reason."

  Skuggi thought about that. About having a companion for whatever came next. Someone who understood what it meant to not belong, to be searching for something they couldn't quite name.

  "Five days," he said. "We'll see if we survive them first."

  "We will." She stood. "Get some rest. Tomorrow you're tracking the undead through the forest. You'll need your strength."

  She walked away. Skuggi stayed by the fire, watching flames dance and spark.

  Five days to prepare. To make enough holy mead to destroy an army of undead. To train fighters who'd never faced creatures that didn't die when you killed them.

  Five days to find answers about where the goblins were based, how many remained, what other threats might be waiting.

  Five days until they'd discover if they were strong enough to survive what the alchemists and their creations had brought to this forest.

  He could work with that.

  One day at a time. One crisis at a time.

  Until he knew what he was and what he was meant to become.

  The fire crackled. Somewhere in the darkness, an owl called. The settlement breathed around him, people sleeping, people keeping watch, people existing in the fragile safety they'd built together.

  Skuggi closed his eyes. Let exhaustion finally take him.

  Tomorrow would bring new challenges. New dangers. New discoveries.

  But tonight, they'd survived. That was enough.

  For now.

  “???????? ??? ???????... ?????? ???? ?? ???????? ?? ?????? ?? ??? ?? ?????????...”

  “Monsters are mirrors... showing only the darkness we refuse to see in ourselves...”

  How was it??