Chapter 11 — Shadows Within.
Sam tightened his grip on the pike. He swallowed hard, the faint reflection of distant movement flickering in his eyes—green skin, yellow eyes, flashes of crude weapons. The sounds of guttural chatter drifted faintly from below.
He crouched lower, body pressed to the cool stone as he observed the goblins' hierarchy. Some stood guard outside the cave, their crude armor clanking softly with every movement. Others carried food or scraps of loot into the darkness of the cave, while a few simply loitered around, gnawing bones or shoving one another with grunts and snarls.
They each bore a weapon—wooden clubs, chipped knives, spears shaped from bone and wood. Crude, yet deadly in their numbers.
Fighting them head-on wasn't an option. Not when their true numbers were unknown.
Sam inhaled slowly, forcing calm through his veins. Then he moved.
Keeping low, his steps were deliberate and silent, guided by instinct. The rocks were jagged and rough beneath his palms, their surfaces biting into his skin as he slid from cover to cover.
He circled the entrance for several minutes, watching the rhythm of the patrols, the direction of their glances, the brief moments they turned away. Then—there. A smaller opening near the side of the main cavern, half-hidden by rock and shadow. Two goblins came out of it briefly before wandering off, distracted by the howls of a wolf in the distance.
That was his chance.
Sam moved, slipping through the gap like smoke.
Inside, the world narrowed to dim light and damp air. The cave was darker than he expected, the scent of rot and damp fur hanging heavy in the air. Water dripped somewhere deeper within, each drop echoing off the walls like a ticking clock.
He thought it would stay pitch black—but faint glimmers appeared along the walls, soft blue-white crystals wedged into cracks in the stone, their glow just enough to illuminate the path ahead.
The tunnels branched and curved in strange directions, forming a labyrinth of shadow. Cavities lined the walls—some were dens for wolves, others were filled with sleeping goblins or crude piles of scavenged goods.
It was in these cavities that he saw other goblins besides the weapon-wielding warriors. Mostly old-looking goblins and younglings. A handful of pregnant goblins lurked nearby, though they were few. He could count the total number of female goblins on his hands.
Continuing on, every turn demanded caution.
Once, as he rounded a corner, a goblin appeared without warning—its yellow eyes widening in surprise.
Sam didn't hesitate.
The pike thrust forward with a sharp shhk!, piercing through its open mouth and out the back of its neck. The creature's body sagged against the wall, twitching once before going still.
It never had the chance to scream.
"Devour," Sam whispered.
Dark mist unfurled from his hand, coiling around the corpse like living smoke. It devoured the goblin completely, leaving behind only the faint metallic scent of blood. Warmth flooded through Sam's veins, sharp and electric.
He exhaled, steadied himself, and kept moving.
Minutes passed. He advanced deeper, sometimes fighting when discovery was unavoidable. Each skirmish was swift, brutal—a slash, a thrust, a whisper—Devour. Every time, the surge of power grew stronger.
The tunnels widened, merging into a broader chamber. The faint chattering of goblins grew louder, echoing from ahead. The smell of blood and damp moss mixed in the air. The sound of dripping water was louder now. Sam slowed, his body low to the ground.
Then he saw her.
Serena.
Bound by thick green vines in a hollow cavity. Her clothes were torn, wrists rubbed raw from struggling. Strands of hair clung to her face, matted with dirt and streaks of sweat. Her muffled cries came weakly—half-conscious, fading.
Sam's chest tightened.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to tilt. He wanted to run to her, to cut those binds, to tear through whatever stood in his way.
But then he saw them.
Three goblins in the chamber. There were others, but these three stood out. Each larger than the rest of the goblins present.
Two were by the entrance. The third sat on a crude throne of jagged stone, a bloody leg of some unknown beast clutched in its hand. It tore into the flesh with wet, greedy bites, the sound echoing faintly off the cavern walls.
Sam froze.
It wasn't just the sight—it was the feeling.
The air itself seemed to grow heavy, pressing against his chest. Especially the one on the throne that radiated something different. Not wild rage like the others… but of dominance. Of power.
His instincts screamed at him to back away. Every muscle in his body tensed subconsciously, his pulse quickening in warning.
Then as if sensing his gaze—the leader stopped chewing. Its head lifted slowly. Those burning yellow eyes met Sam's.
For a long, suspended moment, neither moved.
Then the goblin leader blinked once—deliberate, slow—and the air cracked with a low growl.
The two others with nearly the same level of aura as it roared, rushing toward him in perfect unison. And with them the other multitude of goblins numbering at least fifteen.
The throne-bound one remained seated, resuming its meal—but slower this time, its gaze locked on Sam, watching.
A predator waiting for the prey to prove it was worth the effort.
Sam tightened his grip on the pike. His heart pounded, not from fear—but fury.
Serena was right there.
And nothing in this cave was going to stop him.