We set out into the strange land, armed with nothing but a rough map and purpose pulling us forward.
The forest around us shimmered with unnatural beauty. Trees with gray bark and blue leaves towered above us, while red grass blanketed the forest floor. Birds of unfamiliar shapes and sizes darted through the branches, some the size of wolves.
Yet even as we walked, I felt it — a force, faint but present — constantly tugging us back toward the Thing.
We ignored it and kept moving.
After about an hour, we came across a river. The water shimmered like liquid lapis, deep and endless, with no sign of the riverbed beneath.
Lyra crouched by the bank and dipped her hand into the water, scooping a bit into her mouth.
"Tastes like water… kinda stings my tongue though."
I scanned the opposite bank. "See any way around?"
"Not unless we backtrack half a day," she said, clearly annoyed. "You both know how to swim, right?"
"Yeah," Marra and I answered in unison.
Without another word, we slipped into the water and swam across.
When we stepped out onto the far bank, we immediately noticed something odd.
"Am I the only one who's dry?" Marra asked, glancing at her still-dust-free clothes.
"Nope," Lyra said, patting her shirt. "Same here."
"Same," I added, brushing off nonexistent droplets.
"Is it just the blue water… or is it us?" Lyra wondered aloud.
Marra pulled out a flask from her rucksack, poured regular water onto her arm — it soaked her sleeve instantly.
"Guess it's the river," she muttered.
"Make a note of it," I told Lyra. "That water might be useful."
We continued deeper into the woods, but something changed. The air felt tighter.
"We're being watched," Marra said quietly, her hand resting on the hilt of her short-sword.
We huddled close. My fingers wrapped around my chisel — its weight familiar, comforting.
"Where? What is it?" I whispered.
"There," Lyra said, pointing toward a rustling red bush just ahead.
"Stay behind me," Marra ordered, drawing her blade and stepping forward.
Suddenly, a creature lunged from the brush.
It stood maybe three feet tall, skin green and leathery, ribs clearly visible through its thin tunic. Long ears, sharp teeth, yellow eyes. In its hand: a chipped, battle-worn scimitar.
It snarled in some harsh, alien tongue and swung its weapon at Marra.
She dodged easily, sidestepped, and returned a swift, horizontal slash. The creature's head separated cleanly, rolling into the red grass.
"Gross," Lyra muttered, turning away.
Marra crouched beside the body, checking its belt and satchel. I walked over and picked up the scimitar — heavier than expected, poorly made but functional.
The creature's body was gaunt, bones pressing tight against skin.
"It was starving," I said quietly.
"Goblin," Marra said.
"A what?" I looked at her.
"When I killed it, a screen appeared — like the one from the Obelisk. Said 'Goblin' at the top. Gave a description. Said 'dead' at the bottom. Then it vanished."
"So it just shows up when you kill something?" I asked.
"Seems like it," she replied.
"We should head back," Lyra said, still avoiding the corpse. "In case there are more."
"Agreed," Marra said. "Let's move."
We crossed the blue river again and started the return journey, eyes scanning every shadow.
"Still no signs of anything worth hunting?" Marra asked.
"Nothing but birds, bugs… and that thing," Lyra replied, swatting at a mosquito the size of a bottle cap.
We walked for nearly an hour in silence, following where our inner compass pulled us.
Then we saw it.
At first, just a shadow over the treetops.
Then the branches parted, and it came into full view — massive, winged, its body covered in crimson scales. Every breath it took rumbled through the ground.
I didn't need a screen to tell me what it was.
I'd read about it in stories.
It was a dragon.