Inside a decrepit, airless shack, Cecilia was bound between two rotting wooden pillars.

  Her body hung in an unnatural position, restrained by coarse rope that bound her wrists and was fastened high above her head, forcing her arms back at a torturous angle. The strain made her shoulders feel as though they were about to tear from their sockets, forcing her chest open and arching her back so that she was almost suspended without fully leaving the ground. The tips of her boots still touched the damp wooden floor, but most of her weight was borne by the bindings.

  Her head hung limply.

  Her brown hair, usually kept neatly in place, was now tangled and matted, partially covering her face, which was smeared with dried mud. On her right cheek, a thin cut was clearly visible—not deep, but long enough to leave a reddish line stark against her pale skin. The bleeding had stopped, leaving behind a cracked, dried trail along the curve of her cheekbone.

  She did not move.

  But her chest rose and fell slowly, steadily—a weak breath, yet still there.

  A sign that she was alive.

  Her clothes remained intact, without major tears, yet they were far from presentable. The short reddish-brown cloak she had always cared for so carefully was now stained with dried mud, dark patches stiffening the fabric. The hem had hardened where dirt had clung to it, making the cloth look heavy and rigid.

  The cream blouse beneath clung damply to her skin, wrinkled and soiled. In several places, faint brown handprints were visible—dark smudges as though someone had seized or shoved her without mercy. Along her arms and sides, dark streaks of dirt suggested she had been thrown to the ground more than once.

  Bluish bruises marked her arms—especially near her wrists and upper arms, where the coarse rope had scraped and constricted her skin. Swelling was visible in several places, blue and purple blending with fading red.

  On her shoulders and calves were shallow scratches that had already dried. Small wounds, not fatal—but clear proof she had not surrendered easily. Dirt was still lodged beneath her fingernails.

  Across the shack, late-afternoon sunlight filtered through cracks in the warped planks, forming dusty golden beams in the stale air. The slanted light fell across the damp wooden floor and stopped just short of Cecilia’s nearly dangling feet. Several green-skinned goblins crouched near the half-open door, taking advantage of the fading daylight rather than lighting a fire. Their small, muscular bodies appeared sharper in the dimming glow, their shadows stretching long against the warped walls.

  They spoke in a harsh language of clicks, hisses, and short guttural growls. Occasionally, a raspy laugh burst out. Yellow eyes flicked toward Cecilia before returning to their increasingly animated conversation. One lifted his chin toward her, speaking rapidly while tapping the floor with the blunt tip of his dagger. Another nodded. One clicked his tongue. Another bared rows of sharp teeth in a crooked grin.

  Even if the meaning of their words was incomprehensible, their tone and gaze made one thing clear—

  They were not finished with the girl hanging between those two pillars.

  How had Cecilia fallen into such a miserable state? It had begun when she realized a goblin had been following her through the forest as she searched for Lilya.

  The goblins emerged all at once—filling her vision from left, right, and front. Their movements were low, quick, chaotic—yet coordinated. Spears were raised. Knives drawn.

  Cecilia turned halfway, the basket slipping from her hip and falling to the ground. She drew in a slow breath, suppressing the surge of panic that flashed cold through her chest. She had sensed their presence moments ago.

  These goblins did not move randomly.

  They spread out slowly, forming a semicircle. The distance between them was nearly equal—too orderly for a mere wild mob. The spear-wielders stood at the front. Those with short blades shifted sideways, cutting off her retreat.

  Cecilia flinched.

  Two goblins at the front raised their spears. Thick purple liquid dripped slowly from the metal tips, falling to the ground.

  Poison.

  Her reflexes moved faster than her thoughts. She stepped back twice, breath quickening.

  Her hand went to her basket.

  Her small dagger—

  “Eh?”

  Empty.

  Her gaze dropped.

  The basket had fallen without her noticing. Herbs lay scattered across the ground. Her small dagger lay nearby, half-covered in damp leaves.

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  “GIIK!!”

  One goblin shrieked and lunged.

  The spear thrust straight for her face.

  Cecilia twisted her body instinctively. The tip missed her eye—but not entirely.

  A sharp sting tore across her right cheek.

  A thin cut opened, long enough for warm blood to spill and trail down along her cheekbone.

  She staggered but did not fall.

  A second goblin attacked from the side, spear aimed low at her abdomen. Cecilia deflected it with her bare arm—a reflexive, untrained motion. The metal tip scraped her shoulder before sliding downward, leaving a shallow gash that burned immediately.

  She winced.

  Purple poison dripped onto the ground near her feet, releasing a thin wisp of smoke.

  They did not intend to kill her quickly.

  They were driving her back.

  A smaller goblin circled behind her. Cecilia noticed too late—a body slammed into her back, knocking her off balance. She hit the ground hard.

  Her breath was knocked from her lungs.

  Her hands clawed at the soil instinctively, fingernails digging into mud and leaves as she tried to rise.

  She managed halfway up, then bolted two steps toward her dagger.

  A spear hooked behind her calf.

  Not a full thrust—just a harsh drag.

  Her skin split, leaving a red line that burned sharply. Her leg weakened, and she stumbled again.

  Before she could rise, two goblins lunged simultaneously.

  One seized her wrist.

  The other yanked her arm from behind.

  Cecilia screamed, struggling with all her strength. She kicked wildly, her heel striking one goblin’s shin hard enough to make it hiss. She even managed to elbow the face of one that came too close.

  But there were too many.

  A heavy blow struck her shoulder from the side—not to maim, but to subdue. Pain shot up into her neck.

  Her wrist was twisted cruelly.

  Rough rope wrapped around her skin swiftly, pulled tight without mercy. The fibers immediately scraped her flesh, leaving red marks that slowly darkened into bruises as the pressure increased.

  She kept fighting.

  Still kicking.

  Still trying to bite when a goblin hand tried to clamp her jaw shut.

  But finally, one last strike to the back of her head sent her vision swimming.

  The world spun.

  The goblins’ growls grew distant—like sounds coming from underwater.

  Cecilia tried to move her hands.

  She could not.

  At first she thought it was only the blow to her head. But the sensation was different.

  Something was spreading.

  From the thin cut on her cheek.

  From the gash on her shoulder.

  From the slash on her calf.

  The heat that had once been mere pain shifted into a strange cold—cold that crept into her flesh, slithering through her veins like something alive. Her muscles grew heavy. Not tired. Not sore.

  Heavy.

  As though her body were slowly being filled with lead.

  She tried to bend her bound fingers.

  No response.

  Only a faint tremor—weak and meaningless.

  Her breathing shortened. Her chest still rose and fell, but drawing a full breath grew harder. Even lifting her head felt impossible.

  The poison did not burn.

  It froze.

  From the tips of her toes, numbness crawled upward. Her calves lost strength. Her knees could no longer properly support her. If not for the goblins still gripping her arms, she might have collapsed completely.

  Her vision blurred.

  The forest’s greens and browns melted together into swaying shadows.

  Goblin laughter echoed, distorted and distant.

  She tried to fight again.

  At least… bite. Kick. Anything.

  But her body no longer obeyed.

  Her hands fell limp.

  Her head dropped forward.

  Her consciousness flickered like a candle about to die.

  Through the haze, something moved.

  Footsteps. Different.

  Not hurried. Not low like the others.

  The goblins around her shifted back slightly.

  Making way.

  Cecilia forced her heavy eyes open.

  The figure was thinner than the rest, but stood straighter. A tattered gray-green robe hung loosely over its small frame, patched with mismatched scraps of cloth sewn without any clear pattern. The hem nearly brushed the ground, dragging over dry leaves as it walked.

  Its yellow eyes were different.

  Not merely hungry or feral.

  Sharp.

  Calculating.

  In its hand it held a staff nearly twice its own height.

  The wood was black and unnaturally twisted, like a tree grown while being wrung from within. Rough symbols were carved into its surface—spirals, an eye marked with three lines beneath it, shapes resembling claws.

  At the top, the wood split into three prongs like talons gripping a murky dark-purple crystal.

  The crystal was not still.

  A faint mist swirled within it.

  Dim light pulsed softly—matching the strange throb at Cecilia’s temple.

  Fine particles trailed from the staff’s tip, like glowing dust that vanished almost instantly.

  The robed goblin stopped before her.

  It tilted its head slightly, studying the girl whose focus was slipping away.

  A long finger rose, touching her cheek near the cut that still marked her skin.

  Cecilia wanted to recoil.

  She could not.

  The finger was cold.

  A slow smile spread across the goblin’s face.

  Its thin lips curled sideways, revealing uneven sharp teeth—some longer than the others, glinting in

  the dim forest light.

  Its yellow eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

  The crystal pulsed once more—brighter.

  Cecilia’s vision narrowed.

  All sound vanished.

  The last thing she saw was that smile.

  Then everything went black.

  Consciousness returned like shards of light breaking through murky water.

  First, sound.

  Click.

  Hiss.

  Short laughter snapping like dry twigs.

  Then smell.

  Stale. Damp. Rotting wood mixed with sweat and wet earth.

  Cecilia groaned softly.

  Her head felt heavy—as though dragged downward by something unseen. Her body did not obey immediately when she tried to move. Her arms… raised? No. Restrained.

  She opened her eyes slowly.

  Evening light slipped through cracks in the boards, slicing her vision with dusty golden lines. Her sight blurred for several seconds before slowly sharpening.

  Shadows.

  Small. Many.

  A pair of yellow eyes stared at her from close range.

  Then another.

  And another.

  Several goblins stood not far from her. Some crouched. Some leaned against pillars. One spun a short blade between its fingers. All of them watched her.

  Some smiled.

  Some bared their teeth.

  One grinned wider upon noticing the change in her face.

  “Giiik.”

  The tone was different. Sharper. A warning.

  Small heads turned toward her in unison.

  Cecilia drew a rough breath.

  They knew.

  They knew she was awake.

  Two goblins stepped forward.

  Her reflexes moved before her thoughts.

  “Don’t—!”

  She tried to pull herself back.

  The rope binding her wrists pulled taut. Her shoulders felt as though they were being torn from their sockets. Pain shot through her shoulder blades.

  She kicked forward.

  Her boot struck one goblin’s chest hard enough to make it stagger half a step.

  But the other had already grabbed her leg.

  Cecilia screamed.

  She tried to run—truly tried—to step away from them, but her arms were bound high. Every movement only made the rope bite deeper into her skin.

  She went nowhere.

  Only swayed slightly, trapped between the two rotting pillars like an animal on display.

  Laughter exploded inside the shack.

  Hoarse. Broken. Mocking.

  One goblin stepped closer.

  Its hand rose.

  Smack!

  Her head snapped to the side.

  Before she could lift her face—

  Smack!

  A second slap.

  Heat flared across her cheek—the same side as the old cut. The dried blood cracked, reopening slightly.

  Smack!

  A third blow.

  Cecilia tried to turn away, but a rough hand gripped her chin and forced her to face forward.

  Smack!

  The sound echoed in the tight space.

  The other goblins laughed louder.

  Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes—not only from pain, but from the crushing realization that her body had no room left to fight.

  After the next slap, she stopped moving.

  Not because she wanted to.

  Because she knew it was useless.

  Her breathing was ragged.

  Her head slowly lowered.

  The goblin who had struck her clicked its tongue in satisfaction before stepping back, leaving her hanging once more in that agonizing position.

  Cecilia no longer kicked.

  No longer struggled.

  Her chest rose and fell faintly.

  Her lips trembled.

  “Lilya…” Her voice was almost inaudible, swallowed by hisses and laughter around her.

  She swallowed the bitterness in her throat.

  “I’m sorry… I couldn’t find you…”

  Her eyelids lifted slightly, but no longer focused on anything before her.

  “I hope you… aren’t trapped out there like I am…”

  The words came out softly.

  Hollow.

  Her gaze no longer pleaded.

  No longer resisted.

  Only accepted.

  And that— Only made the goblins’ smiles widen.