The decision had been made.
One more run.
It should have been easy. A simple dungeon quest to maintain appearances, make some quick coin, and avoid suspicion. But as Arlan sat on his straw mattress in the dim attic of The Weary Traveler, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't shake the feeling that things were already spiraling out of his control.
The paladins were in town. The crypt was still on his mind. And now, adventurers were going missing.
Bones, curled up in his usual spot near Arlan's shoulder, clicked his teeth softly. Arlan absently scratched the top of his bony skull. "Yeah, I know," he murmured. "This isn't going to end well, is it?"
Bones didn't respond, of course, but Arlan could almost imagine the little skeleton rat nodding.
It was a terrible idea.
And yet, he was still going.
Guild Hall
By the time Arlan arrived at the guild the next morning, the others were already there, gathered near the quest board.
Leila gave him a look. "Took you long enough."
"Was up late thinking," Arlan muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Beren grinned. "Thinking? Or brooding?"
Tomas smirked. "He does like to sulk in dark corners."
"I do not sulk," Arlan said, exasperated.
Mira ignored the banter, tapping a piece of parchment pinned to the board. "I picked something safe. First floor, goblins again. Five silver for a standard sweep. No surprises."
Arlan exhaled in relief. "That works."
Tomas stretched his arms. "Goblins are getting too easy. Maybe we should—"
"No," Mira interrupted flatly.
"Come on, just hear me out—"
"No."
Tomas groaned. "You never let me be reckless."
"You're alive because I don't let you be reckless," Mira pointed out.
Leila grinned. "She has a point."
Beren rolled his shoulders. "Let's just get moving before Tomas talks us into fighting an ogre or something."
"One ogre wouldn't be that bad," Tomas muttered under his breath.
Mira ignored him, already heading for the door.
Arlan sighed and followed, shaking his head.
Just another goblin hunt. No surprises. No risks.
It should have been fine.
Duskhaven's Dungeon – First Floor
The entrance to the dungeon felt colder than usual. Maybe it was just Arlan's nerves—or maybe it was the weight of everything else pressing down on him.
Bones was curled up inside his cloak, unmoving but aware.
The tunnels were as damp and dark as ever, torchlight flickering off stone walls. The air smelled of moss and stagnant water, mixed with the faint metallic scent of old blood.
They moved carefully, weapons drawn.
Beren led the way with his axe, followed closely by Tomas with his sword and shield. Mira stayed near the back, staff in hand, while Leila nocked an arrow, scanning for movement.
Arlan kept close, ready to act if needed.
The goblins weren't hard to find.
A small cluster of them huddled near a pile of broken crates and discarded bones. There were seven this time—armed with rusted daggers and crude clubs, squabbling over scraps of food.
Leila wrinkled her nose. "Why do they always eat in the dungeon?"
Tomas whispered back, "Would you rather they take you out to dinner first?"
Leila shot him a look.
Mira exhaled. "Let's not waste time."
The Fight Begins
Mira cast a light spell, flashing a bright burst of magic that sent the goblins into a frenzy.
Tomas and Beren charged first.
Beren's axe cleaved through the nearest goblin, sending it sprawling. Tomas bashed another with his shield, knocking it off balance before stabbing downward.
Leila loosed an arrow, striking a goblin in the shoulder before quickly drawing another.
Arlan's heart pounded.
This time, he wouldn't just stand back.
He had magic now.
One of the goblins spotted him and snarled, lunging forward with a jagged knife.
Arlan reacted instinctively.
He reached for that familiar pull of magic—shadows coiling like smoke in his palm. A pulse of dark energy shot forward, striking the goblin square in the chest.
The creature stumbled, clutching at the spreading black tendrils creeping up its body.
Arlan blinked. That was stronger than last time.
The goblin's body twitched—then collapsed.
Leila, having finished off her own target, glanced at him. "You're really getting the hang of that creepy magic."
Arlan exhaled slowly. "Something like that."
Bones, peeking from his cloak, let out a soft, approving click.
The rest of the goblins didn't last long. Beren finished another with a heavy swing. Tomas slammed his shield into the last one, sending it sprawling before running it through with his sword.
The fight was over.
Mira lowered her staff. "No injuries?"
Everyone shook their heads.
"Good." She glanced at the fallen goblins. "Let's collect proof and head back."
Tomas leaned against his shield. "Easiest five silver we've ever made."
Beren grunted. "Don't say that. You'll jinx us."
Leila rolled her eyes. "Don't be so superstitious."
Arlan, still feeling the remnants of magic buzzing in his fingertips, looked down at his hands.
The spell had felt different this time. Stronger. More controlled.
Was it because he had used it a couple times? Or was it something else?
He wasn't sure.
But one thing was clear—his magic was growing.
And that, more than anything, scared him.