The poison still burned in Reed's veins.
Three days had passed since the assassination attempt. He drifted in and out of consciousness, fevered and shivering. Every breath felt like breathing fire. His body fought the goblin blood Shia had forced into his dying veins. It was unnatural—taboo. But it kept him alive.
When he finally woke fully, it was night. The crumbling stone of the keep pressed down like a tomb. Shia sat beside him, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
"You live," she said. Not relief. Just fact.
"What did you do to me?" he rasped.
She didn't flinch. "I broke the law to save you."
"What law?"
"Heroes cannot alter their lords. It is forbidden to mix blood. Especially goblin blood. It changes you."
Reed tried to sit up. Pain flared.
"Changes how?"
Shia leaned close. Her breath was warm, metallic. "You're no longer fully human."
The next morning, Reed demanded to see the domain.
Shia led him past the ruined outer walls, into the bones of Goblin's Hollow. The sun barely reached this place. The sky hung low, smothered in grey. Trees twisted unnaturally. The land itself seemed cursed.
And yet, life remained.
Caves pocked the hillsides, hidden by thickets of boneweed. Smoke curled faintly from one. Reed approached slowly. As his shadow passed the mouth of the cave, guttural hisses rose.
Goblins. Emaciated. Eyes glowing yellow with suspicion. Some clutched crude spears. Others hid behind rotting furs.
"Stay back," Shia warned.
One stepped forward. Female. Old. Covered in charms made of teeth and feathers.
"Grothak... greecha nor!" she barked, pointing at Reed.
"She calls you cursed," Shia said calmly.
Reed didn't react. "Tell her I'm her lord."
"She knows. She spits on your title."
The old goblin did just that—spat. A gob of black mucus landed near his boot.
Reed stepped forward. The tribe tensed. Shia placed a hand on her blade.
Reed knelt. Picked up the spit. Rubbed it between his fingers. Then smeared it across his own face.
Gasps.
Shia blinked. "Why—?"
"They fear me because I'm different. But I'm not here to be feared. I'm here because I have nothing left to lose."
He stood. "Tell them I don't want to rule them. I want to use them. I want them to use me."
Shia translated.
Silence. Then the old goblin spoke again, slower. Her voice carried weight now.
"She says... maybe you're mad enough to lead."
That night, Reed sat by a cave fire, surrounded by goblins who barely tolerated him. They ate boiled roots and rat meat. Reed forced himself to eat it, too.
"You really believe in me?" he asked Shia.
"I believe in your hatred. It will take you far."
He chewed slowly. "I don't hate the nobles. Not anymore. I despise them."
She nodded. "That's better. Hate fades. Contempt sharpens."
A young goblin girl approached, handing him a bone charm. It was crude. Childish. But it was a gesture.
Reed tied it to his belt. "What's her name?"
"Frin. She's the chief's granddaughter."
"She has guts."
"She thinks you smell like goblin now."
Reed smirked. "Maybe I do."
They explored deeper the next day. The caves were vast. Winding. Some held forgotten relics: rusted weapons, broken banners from a forgotten war. Reed found a crude map etched into stone. Shia translated the symbols.
"Old tunnels. Lead beyond the Hollow. Smuggler paths. Maybe more."
Reed touched the stone. "We'll expand. Slowly. Underground if we have to."
They passed a pit. Dozens of bones at the bottom. Not animal. Goblin.
"Famine," Shia said. "Cannibalism. The weak were sacrificed."
Reed stared. Then climbed down. He picked a skull from the pile.
"This is our past," he said. "We bury it. Then we build something worse."
That evening, the chief appeared.
A massive goblin, one arm missing, the other holding a crude iron mace. His back was scarred with burns. His eyes were cloudy with hate.
He did not speak. He just stared at Reed. Then at Shia. Then back.
Finally, he growled: "Trial."
"He wants to test you," Shia said. "Goblin law."
"Fine," Reed said. "How?"
The chief pointed at a cave mouth. Blacker than night. "Drek'mar."
"Test of blood. You enter. You survive. You lead."
"What's inside?"
"No one knows. Everyone who enters either comes out changed... or not at all."
Reed stood. "I'll go."
Shia grabbed his arm. "You're still healing."
"I don't care."
"Then I go with you."
He nodded. "We go together."
Drek'mar stank of sulfur and rot. The tunnel narrowed quickly. The walls pulsed faintly. Shia lit a crude torch. It hissed blue.
Minutes passed. Then hours.
They found bones. Dozens. Human. Goblin. Beast.
Then something moved.
A creature dropped from the ceiling—spindly, mouth full of teeth, eyes glowing red.
It screeched. Shia moved fast. Daggers flashed. Blood sprayed.
More came.
Dozens.
Reed fought with a rusted blade, his body moving on instinct. He was faster. Stronger. The goblin blood.
But it burned. Every strike made him tremble. Every kill felt like something inside him screamed.
They reached a chamber. A circle carved into the floor. Old runes pulsed.
Reed stepped inside. A voice boomed.
"Blood of man. Blood of beast. Choose."
Pain stabbed his mind. Visions. Two paths: retain his humanity... or embrace something darker.
Shia screamed. The monsters poured in.
Reed looked down at his hands. Veins blackening. His eyes burned.
He stepped forward.
"I choose power."
Darkness swallowed him.