The path to the southern farms wound deeper into the woods, the fields giving way to dense undergrowth. The sky above was overcast, casting a gray pallor over everything. Chris adjusted the strap on his bag, trying to ignore the dull ache spreading through his ribs from the earlier ambush.
"You think the goblins left for good?" Chris asked, glancing up at Kira as she soared above the trees.
"They ran, but goblins aren't known for quitting," she called back, her wings cutting through the breeze. "If they're hungry—or desperate—they'll be back."
Chris exhaled, the thought leaving a sour taste in his mouth. The last thing he wanted was another fight, but the way they'd coordinated during the ambush gnawed at him. Those goblins weren't random raiders—they were following orders.
The forest began to thin as they approached the southern farms. Rolling fields of trampled wheat spread out before them, and a few stone buildings huddled together in the distance.
As they drew closer, Chris noticed something odd. Scattered across the ground were blackened scorch marks, thin streaks that carved jagged lines through the dirt. Some of the crops were flattened in.
Chris crouched beside the scorched ground, running his fingers over the jagged marks. The blackened streaks fanned out in irregular patterns, almost like something had exploded—but without the heat he'd expect from fire. Ash clung to the ground, staining his fingertips gray.
He wiped his hand on his trousers, feeling the faint tingle of something strange. The residue buzzed faintly against his skin, not painful, but unsettling—like a warning carried on the wind.
Kira fluttered down to the ground beside him. "That's not just regular fire magic," she murmured, ruffling her feathers. "Looks like they're playing with something nastier."
Chris narrowed his eyes. Fire magic. He'd seen Kira use it during their first battle against goblins, though it had all happened so fast he hadn't thought much about it. Now, seeing these strange scorch marks up close, the reality of it hit him with sudden excitement.
"So magic like this… I could use it one day too, right?" Chris whispered, unable to hide the flicker of hope in his voice.
Kira gave him a knowing look. "Maybe. If you live long enough to learn it."
Chris grinned despite himself. Magic was real—right here, right now—and someday, it could be his.
They followed the path toward the farmhouse, passing more signs of destruction—trampled crops, scattered tools, and piles of fine gray ash, swirling gently in the breeze. A strange stillness filled the air, like the land itself had been drained of life.
Chris tightened his grip on the sword at his side. "Ash fire… that's what caused this, isn't it?"
Kira nodded. "Yeah. It's rare. Burns slower than regular fire, but it's harder to put out. And it leaves everything it touches weaker." She gave him a sidelong glance. "If these goblins are learning how to use it, that's not good."
They reached the farmhouse, its stone walls blackened with soot. Inside, the damage was worse—wooden beams were charred and crumbling, furniture reduced to piles of ash. The air was heavy with smoke and something more—a faint, acrid scent that made Chris's throat itch.
They moved cautiously, Kira's wings twitching with every step. In the corner of the room, near a collapsed table, Chris spotted a faint trail of ash leading toward the cellar door.
Kira tilted her head. "Looks like they went down there."
Chris hesitated, his heart racing. This is real. The excitement of encountering magic for the first time mixed with the knot of fear in his stomach. He wasn't ready for this—not yet—but he couldn't walk away now.
With a deep breath, Chris pushed the cellar door open, revealing the dark staircase below. A gust of cold, ash-laden air greeted him, making him cough.
"Lovely," Kira muttered, hopping to his shoulder. "What's the plan?"
Chris gave a nervous laugh. "Figure it out as we go?"
They descended into the cellar, each step echoing beneath their boots. The dark space at the bottom flickered with dim orange light—not quite flame, but enough to cast eerie shadows across the walls.
At the far end of the room, two goblins crouched over a small brazier. Wisps of Ash Fire coiled upward, trailing smoky tendrils that clung to the air like cobwebs. One goblin muttered something in a harsh, guttural language, while the other stirred the brazier with a jagged stick, sending more ash billowing into the room.
Chris felt a chill run down his spine. They're experimenting with magic…
The goblin holding the stick glanced up, its eyes narrowing as it spotted Chris and Kira at the top of the stairs. It barked an order, and both goblins sprang into action—one grabbing a crude dagger from the ground, the other sweeping a handful of ash from the brazier and hurling it toward them.
Chris barely ducked in time, the ash cloud swirling overhead. Where the ash touched the walls, black streaks appeared, crackling faintly as if the wood were rotting beneath it.
"Move!" Kira squawked, taking off from Chris's shoulder.
Chris sprang forward, adrenaline surging through him. The goblin with the dagger lunged, and Chris blocked the strike awkwardly, the wooden sword vibrating in his hands. He swung back, clipping the goblin's shoulder and knocking it off balance.
The second goblin snatched up a smoldering branch from the brazier, embers flickering at the tip. Ash Fire sputtered along the wood, sending wisps of smoke curling into the air. It swung wildly, forcing Chris to dodge back to avoid the deadly embers.
Kira swooped low, her wings slicing through the stale air. Her beak ignited in a flash of fire, glowing a fierce orange as she dived toward the goblin wielding the branch.
With a sharp snap of her head, flames burst from her beak, searing the goblin's hand. It howled, dropping the branch and stumbling backward. The Ash Fire fizzled out, the embers scattering harmlessly across the ground.
Chris seized the opportunity, bringing his sword down hard on the goblin's side, sending it sprawling. The remaining goblin tried to flee, but Kira flared her wings and lunged, her fiery beak flashing again. With a quick snap, she singed the goblin's leg, forcing it to collapse in a heap.
Panting, Chris surveyed the smoldering brazier and the two fallen goblins. The Ash Fire was out, but the danger lingered—both in the magic and what it meant.
"That was… different," Chris muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Kira landed beside him, her feathers still shimmering with traces of fire. "You held your own. And now you've seen what real magic can do."
Chris stared down at the dying embers, a flicker of excitement stirring in his chest despite the danger. Magic. He'd seen it—faced it—and lived to tell the tale.
"One day," he whispered, almost to himself, "I'll learn to use it too."
Kira gave a knowing caw. "If you survive long enough, maybe."
Chris grinned, slipping the practice sword back into its sheath. This world was more dangerous—and more exciting—than he'd imagined. And now, he had a taste of what was possible.
Chris and Kira climbed out of the cellar, leaving the unconscious goblins behind. The air outside felt fresher, though the strange tension of the Ash Fire still clung to the back of Chris's mind. He could feel it—a pulse of potential, of danger.
He glanced down at his hand, the faint traces of gray ash still staining his fingertips. Magic. It wasn't just an idea anymore—it was real. And someday, it would be his.
"Where do you think they got it?" Chris asked, slinging his sword over his shoulder.
Kira fluffed her feathers, hopping up onto a broken fencepost. "Hard to say. Goblins don't usually mess with magic unless someone teaches them. And Ash Fire? That's not something they just figure out on their own."
Chris frowned, kicking a loose rock along the path. "So, what—you think someone's been helping them?"
Kira tilted her head. "Could be. Or maybe… they found something. A relic, a grimoire, something that taught them how to use it."
The thought sent a chill down Chris's spine. If goblins were learning rare magic, that meant bigger problems were coming. Ash Fire was already dangerous—if they got their hands on something stronger…
"We should head back to the village," Chris muttered. "Tell Dorian what we found."
Kira gave an approving caw and took to the air, circling above as Chris started down the road. The sun was lower in the sky now, casting long shadows across the fields. The air felt cooler, and the first hints of evening dew clung to the grass.
They walked in silence for a while, the steady rhythm of Chris's boots against the dirt path grounding his thoughts. But his mind kept drifting back to the Ash Fire, to the way it clung to the goblins' weapons and spread without heat.
Could he learn to control magic like that? The idea made his pulse quicken—not with fear, but with excitement. There was power in magic, and if he could tap into it, maybe… just maybe… he wouldn't feel so out of place in this world.
"We're being followed," Kira whispered suddenly, snapping Chris out of his thoughts.
He froze, his heart skipping a beat. "What? Where?"
Kira swooped down to his shoulder, her voice low and urgent. "Behind us. I saw something moving in the trees."
Chris tightened his grip on the wooden sword, every nerve on edge. He scanned the treeline, but saw nothing—just shadows shifting in the evening light.
"Stay calm," Kira murmured. "It might not be goblins."
Chris exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. "What do you think it is, then?"
Kira's feathers ruffled. "I don't know. But if they wanted to attack, they'd have done it by now."
Chris nodded, his pulse steadying. If they weren't attacking… they were waiting.
"Let's keep moving," he whispered. "But stay alert."
They continued down the road, every step measured, every sound amplified in the growing quiet. The shadows along the path seemed to grow longer, stretching toward them like grasping fingers.
And then, just as the village gates came into view, Chris spotted it—a figure in the distance, standing at the edge of the forest.
He couldn't make out much in the fading light, but the figure's shape was… strange. Too tall for a goblin, too thin for a human. And there was something else—something about the way it stood, unmoving, as if it were waiting for them.
Kira hissed softly. "That's not good."
Chris tightened his grip on the sword. This was something new.
The figure didn't move as they approached. It just watched. And as the last sliver of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, it turned and slipped into the trees, vanishing without a sound.
Chris shivered. "What the hell was that?"
Kira flapped her wings uneasily. "I don't know… but I've got a feeling we'll find out soon."
Chris kept his eyes on the treeline, the strange figure's silhouette burned into his mind. It didn't move like the goblins he'd fought earlier—it was taller, more poised, with the deliberate grace of someone trained, not feral. And now, with night creeping in, the forest seemed to hum with quiet tension.
"Are we going after it?" Kira whispered, shifting uneasily on Chris's shoulder.
Chris hesitated. This felt wrong—but also important. He had to know more.
"Yeah," he muttered, adjusting his grip on the sword. "Let's see what this guy's about."
The two slipped into the forest, shadows deepening around them. Branches rustled overhead, and somewhere in the distance, an owl let out a mournful hoot. Chris's heart thumped as he followed the figure's path deeper into the woods, the scent of smoke growing stronger with each step.
Then, the forest opened into a small clearing, bathed in dim moonlight. There, sitting cross-legged beneath a tree, was the figure.
It was a goblin—but unlike any Chris had seen before. He was taller than a typical goblin, his lean frame clothed in a simple but elegant robe, with a curved sword resting against his side. His posture was calm, relaxed, yet there was a quiet strength to him, like a coiled spring ready to strike.
Tiny embers swirled lazily around him, glowing like fireflies in the night. He didn't seem surprised by their presence—instead, he watched them drift with a serene expression, as if lost in thought.
Kira fluttered closer, her voice low. "That's no ordinary goblin."
Chris stepped cautiously into the clearing, the sword in his hand feeling heavier than before. The goblin's eyes flicked toward him—bright yellow, sharp, and amused.
"I figured you'd show up eventually," the goblin said smoothly, not bothering to stand. His voice was calm, measured. The embers floating around him danced in playful arcs, trailing wisps of smoke.
Chris stiffened. "You were expecting us?"
The goblin gave a small smile. "Let's just say… I was curious." He tapped the hilt of his sword lightly. "Name's Eroll. And you, my friend, look like someone in over his head."
Chris blinked, caught off-guard by the goblin's strange demeanor. He seemed more amused than hostile.
Kira landed lightly on Chris's shoulder, her feathers twitching. "What's with the embers?"
Eroll grinned, extending his hand lazily. An ember floated to his palm, resting there without burning him. "Just a little trick of mine. I call it the Ember Dance."
The ember shimmered briefly before swirling back into the air, joining the others in a hypnotic display. The embers moved with strange precision, weaving patterns around Eroll as if responding to his unspoken command.
"Fire magic," Chris muttered, feeling a flicker of excitement. "I've never seen it used like that."
Eroll gave a modest shrug. "It's not much. Just enough to keep things interesting."
Chris couldn't help but grin. Magic was real—and someday, it could be his.
"So… what's your deal?" Chris asked cautiously. "You're not like the other goblins."
Eroll chuckled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. "That's because I'm not with them. Different clan, different goals." He gave Chris a sidelong glance. "Whatever those goblins are playing with—Ash Fire or worse—it's bad news. For all of us."
The weight of Eroll's words hung in the air. This goblin wasn't an enemy—but he wasn't exactly an ally, either. Not yet.
"So, what now?" Chris asked.
Eroll stood slowly, brushing the ash off his robe. His movements were smooth and deliberate, like a warrior preparing for battle. The curved sword at his side gleamed faintly in the dim light, hinting at careful craftsmanship.
"Well," Eroll said with a lazy grin, "since you've already interrupted my evening… how about I tag along? Seems like trouble follows you—and I happen to like trouble."
Chris exchanged a glance with Kira, who gave a small approving croak. "I like him."
Chris smiled, feeling the tension in his chest ease. "Alright," he said, slipping his sword back into its sheath. "But no funny business."
Eroll grinned wider, the embers swirling playfully around him. "No promises, my friend."
The forest stretched endlessly before them, the trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. Chris, Eroll, and Kira moved along the narrow dirt road, the remnants of their recent battle with the goblins still fresh in their minds. The cool air carried the scent of pine and damp earth, offering a brief respite from the chaos they had left behind.
Chris shifted the weight of his sword on his back, the dull ache in his ribs making each step a reminder of how far he still had to go. He glanced over at Eroll, who walked with the lazy confidence of someone who didn't seem to have a care in the world.
"You don't look like someone who's worried about goblins experimenting with magic," Chris muttered.
Eroll flashed his usual grin. "Worrying won't make the road any shorter."
Kira flapped her wings, landing on Chris's shoulder with a soft caw. "He's got a point. Might as well enjoy the quiet while it lasts."
Chris shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. For all his frustrations with Eroll's carefree attitude, there was something comforting about it—like having someone who refused to let the weight of the world crush him.
The forest thinned as they followed the winding road, the village just barely visible on the horizon, its stone walls blending into the twilight sky.
Chris exhaled slowly. "Almost there."
Eroll gave a satisfied hum. "Good. I could use a hot meal and a soft bed." He stretched his arms overhead, his curved sword clinking softly against his side. The embers that always seemed to follow him flickered briefly in the gathering darkness, casting a faint orange glow.
Chris raised an eyebrow. "You ever turn that off?"
Eroll shrugged. "The embers? Nah, they're kind of… me." He gave Chris a sideways glance. "It's like your sword. You don't just put it down when things get easy."
Chris thought about that, running a hand along the hilt of his practice sword. He wasn't sure if that comparison made sense, but something about Eroll's attitude was… grounding.
The village gates came into view, bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. Warm light spilled from the windows of homes and shops, and the faint sound of chatter reached them on the breeze.
Chris felt a strange mix of emotions settle in his chest—relief, exhaustion, and a flicker of hope. For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt like he was coming back to something familiar.
"You think Dorian's still up?" Chris asked, mostly to himself.
Kira gave a soft chuckle. "That man never sleeps."
Eroll smirked. "Good. I'll need someone to drink with."
Chris rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile. It was good to feel normal for a moment. Even if it wouldn't last.