The walk back through the forest was quiet, both of them lost in thought. Chris kept replaying the fight in his mind—every missed step, every close call. If Kira hadn't been there… He shook the thought away. He was learning. He'd get better. He had to.
When the trees thinned, revealing the gates of the village, two guards waved them through. Chris could feel their eyes on him as he passed, taking in his blood-stained sleeve and the weight of the supplies in his arms.
At the heart of the market, Teron's stall stood amid the bustle. The merchant—broad-shouldered and thick-bearded—beamed when he saw Chris approach.
"Back already, eh?" Teron said with a hearty laugh. "And with supplies! You've done well, lad."
Chris gave a tired grin. "We ran into a group of goblins near the ruins. They were guarding these."
Teron's smile faltered. "Goblins, you say?" His expression turned serious as he stroked his beard. "You're lucky you got out in one piece. Goblins have been acting strange lately—too bold, too organized."
Chris exchanged a glance with Kira. "One of the guards mentioned a goblin king. What's that about?"
Teron's eyes darkened. "Aye. Word is, there's a new king rising out east. Some say he's different—stronger, smarter. Could be one of those evolved types."
"Evolved?" Chris raised an eyebrow.
The merchant gave a curious look. "Haven't heard of that, eh? Some races can evolve—gain new forms, new power. It's rare, but it happens. Goblins call their evolved forms Hobgoblins. Bigger, meaner, and smarter."
Chris felt a flicker of excitement. "So… other races can evolve too?"
Teron nodded. "Aye. Elves become High Elves, orcs can turn into warlords, and I've even heard of angels ascending to something greater. If you're strong enough and live long enough, you might evolve."
Kira tilted her head. "But it's not easy, is it?"
"Not by a long shot," Teron chuckled darkly. "Takes more than strength—needs the right circumstances. And not everyone survives the process."
Chris absorbed the information, his mind racing. So even I can evolve? The thought lingered—tantalizing but distant, like a spark waiting to catch fire.
"And the goblin king?" Kira asked. "If he's evolved, what does that mean for the rest of us?"
Teron's grin returned, though his eyes remained grim. "It means trouble. If the king unites the clans, the other races—humans, elves, orcs—we'll all have a problem." He handed Chris a folded map. "Here. This'll show you where the goblins gather. Might save your life."
Chris tucked the map into his pack. "Thanks for the warning."
Teron gave a small, knowing smile. "If you run into more goblins, watch for tattoos on their arms. Each clan has its mark—learning them might keep you alive."
The pouch of coins jostled softly at Chris's belt as he walked toward the inn at the far end of the square. A weathered sign swung gently above the door, its faded letters spelling out The Weary Wanderer. Chris smiled to himself. Fitting.
He pushed open the creaky wooden door, greeted by the scent of stew, woodsmoke, and herbs. The common room hummed with quiet conversation—villagers sharing drinks at worn wooden tables.
Chris made his way to the counter, where a stout woman with a graying bun polished a tankard. Her sharp eyes flicked over him, noting the scratches on his arms and the raven perched on his shoulder.
"Need a room?" she asked, setting the tankard down.
Chris nodded, pulling the pouch from his belt. "How much?"
"Two silver for the night," she said briskly. "Includes dinner, if you're hungry."
Chris hesitated, unsure if two silver was a fair price, but a bed and food sounded like paradise. He handed over the coins, and the woman slid a key across the counter.
"Room's upstairs, third door on the left," she said. "Stew's hot if you want some. Name's Mara if you need anything."
"Thanks," Chris muttered, taking the key. Kira let out a low croak, as if to say, Finally.
The stairs creaked beneath Chris's weight as they climbed to the upper floor. His legs ached, and the sting from the goblin's dagger throbbed with every step.
The third door on the left opened with a soft click, revealing a small but clean room. A narrow bed with a threadbare quilt sat in the corner, next to a rickety chair and a washbasin.
Chris dropped his pack onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed with a groan, the mattress sagging beneath him. Kira fluttered to the windowsill, her feathers ruffling as she settled in.
"Not exactly luxury, but it'll do," Chris muttered, kicking off his boots.
Kira tilted her head. "Better than sleeping in the forest with goblins breathing down our necks."
"Fair point." Chris stretched out, his body protesting every movement. The ache was almost comforting—it meant he was still alive.
The room was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old wood and the faint hum of voices downstairs. Chris closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him under.
Just as sleep began to claim him, a soft knock sounded at the door.
Chris groaned, sitting up. "What now?"
Before he could answer, the door swung open, revealing a tall man in a travel-worn cloak. A wooden staff rested in his hand, and a knowing smile curled his lips.
"You're the one who tangled with the goblins, huh?" the man said, pulling the rickety chair closer without invitation. "Name's Dorian. Figured I'd find you here."
Chris rubbed his eyes. "And what do you want?"
Dorian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "To help. Saw you fight—rough around the edges, but you've got potential."
Kira's eyes narrowed. "What's it to you?"
Dorian smiled faintly. "Let's just say I've got a soft spot for folks who don't know what they've gotten into." He studied Chris.
"There's something different about you—something powerful. I've seen a lot in my time, and you've got the kind of fire that could become dangerous… if you figure out how to use it."
Chris tensed, his heartbeat quickening. He wasn't sure if Dorian knew the truth, but the words hit closer than he liked.
Chris leaned back against the headboard, exhaustion tugging at him, but curiosity flickering to life.
"So, you're offering to train me?" Chris asked.
Dorian gave a small smile. "Something like that. You'll need more than instincts to survive in this world. Power's tricky—it can pull you in all directions if you don't learn how to control it."
Kira tilted her head, her keen eyes fixed on Dorian. "What's the catch?"
Dorian chuckled softly. "No catch. Just a warning—power always comes at a cost. And becoming something more than you are… it's not just about strength. It's about figuring out who you are, and what you're willing to become."
Chris let the words sink in, his thoughts swirling with possibilities.
"So, what do you say?" Dorian asked. "You want to learn, or are you just passing through?"
Chris glanced at Kira, who gave him a subtle nod. "I'm not passing through," he muttered, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Teach me."
Dorian stood, grabbing his staff. "Good. Rest now—training starts tomorrow."
With that, he slipped out the door, leaving Chris and Kira alone.
"Tomorrow," Chris whispered, closing his eyes. "Tomorrow, we get stronger."