Airen stood still, sword angled low, staring at the creature before him.
Only moments ago it had been a trembling, mud-spattered goblin. Now, in the fading glow of the potion, a tall figure remained — skin the soft green of new leaves, silver hair tumbling over her shoulders, eyes bright as molten gold.
His brows lifted a fraction, but not out of awe. He didn't feel a flicker of attraction; it was the absurdity of the change that caught him off guard. One heartbeat a pitiful monster, the next a flawless, otherworldly woman.
The goblin-woman lowered her gaze, fingers knotting together, a faint blush warming her cheeks.
Airen opened his mouth to speak, but she hurried to fill the silence. "I… I should explain. Some of our kind use that potion to take a fairer form. It keeps us safe — makes others less likely to attack on sight."
Airen's expression stayed flat, eyes half-lidded with indifference. "If you're talking, I'll listen," he said, voice cool. "Doesn't mean I care."
Something in her face faltered. She bit her lip, hesitation clouding her golden eyes. When she finally spoke again, her tone was heavy, almost bitter.
"The truth is… those born with beauty among us rarely stay free for long," she murmured. "Males see them as breeding stock — a way to force stronger children into the tribe. Many are taken, used, never given a choice."
Her hands tightened until her knuckles blanched, shoulders drawn inward as if bracing against an old wound.
Airen's gaze stayed steady. "So… why show me your real appearance?"
The goblin-woman drew a trembling breath. A small smile tugged at her lips, but tears slid down her cheeks, catching the fading light. "Because… I've always wanted someone other than my mother to see me as I truly am," she admitted. Her voice wavered between relief and sorrow — a fragile confession years in the making.
Airen remained unmoved, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That's touching, I guess," he said, tone flat. "But I'm not here for your life story. Tell me about the treasure."
A shadow crossed her face, but she quickly lowered her gaze. "Yes… I'll lead you." She hesitated, then added, "But you should know — elite warriors guard the vault. They're… strong."
"You don't have to worry about that," Airen replied, voice as calm as if she'd warned him about rain.
She nodded faintly and turned, guiding him through the trees. Airen followed a few paces behind, steps silent on the moss.
As they moved, thoughts tumbled behind the goblin-woman's golden eyes. He didn't even flinch when he saw me like this… she mused, a faint heat blooming beneath her skin. If anyone in the village saw me, they'd lose their minds — but he just… Her face warmed, a soft blush tinting the green of her cheeks.
"Hey," Airen said suddenly, breaking her reverie.
She jerked upright, long ears twitching sharply at the sound of his voice. "Y-yes?"
"How were only eleven of you able to launch that many arrows?" His tone was mild, but his eyes stayed sharp, measuring her response.
Her ears gave a small, involuntary flick — almost like a rabbit startled and eager at once. "Ah… that's because we can release several arrows at once," she explained, words tumbling out in a rush.
Airen grunted, a noncommittal sound, noticing the way her long ears flicked again as she spoke. "Hmph."
Gathering her composure, she ventured, "Would you like me to teach you that technique? You could—"
"Not interested," Airen cut her off, eyes fixed ahead. "Just lead the way."
The goblin-woman nodded, lips pressing together, and turned her attention back to the path, though her ears twitched once more, betraying a trace of unspoken thought.
After a few quiet steps, she spoke again, voice low. "Those elite soldiers… they're truly powerful. Are you sure you still want to go to the treasure vault?"
Airen's gaze remained steady on the trail. "Why are you worrying about me?" he asked, his tone as flat as stone. "A moment ago I cut down ten of your people without effort. When I reach the treasure, I'll do the same to anyone standing there."
His words slid through the air like ice. "Doesn't it bother you," he added, "guiding me straight to their deaths?"
A sudden, suffocating weight filled the space between them. A cold, oppressive aura rolled out from Airen, pressing against her back like an invisible blade. It was quiet, but it carried the raw promise of violence, the kind that froze the lungs before a strike.
"Or," his voice came, soft yet lethal, "do you have other plans?"
Sweat beaded on the goblin-woman's brow, a shiver racing down her spine. Her breath caught as if the air itself had thickened, choking her. "N-no," she stammered, trembling so hard her ears quivered. "I don't care… even if you kill everyone in the village."
Airen tilted his head, faintly puzzled. "Why?" he asked, his voice stripped of warmth but not of curiosity.
The goblin woman froze. Her green face drained of color, then flushed with grief and rage. Her eyes glistened, tears trembling on her lashes, yet behind them burned a raw, vengeful fire. "Do you know…" Her voice cracked as she forced the words out. "My mother had ten children. Ten — and every one of us born from a different father."
Airen's gaze sharpened; a quiet understanding flickered across his thoughts. Mm. I'm starting to see… but now isn't the time.
The goblin woman bit down on her lower lip so hard it broke the skin, a thin line of blood staining her chin. Her hands clenched into fists. "I'll kill them myself," she hissed, her voice trembling with pain and resolve.
By the time they emerged from the trees, the world ahead had widened into a village: crude huts of packed earth and timber, smoke curling from crooked chimneys. The goblin woman's ragged breathing steadied; some of the storm in her eyes eased as they stepped onto the worn path between homes.
She suddenly raised an arm, barring Airen's way. "Wait," she said, glancing around at the orcs loitering near the huts. "I'll draw their attention. While they're distracted, you head straight for the chief's house."
Airen's gaze didn't waver. "I don't need your help."
Her shoulders stiffened, but she exhaled slowly. "Fine… then I won't interfere. But I can't go near the chief's home — you'll have to find it yourself."
"And how am I supposed to know which one that is?" he asked flatly.
She gestured toward the center of the settlement. "The largest, most decorated house — right there in the middle. That's the chief's dwelling."
Airen inclined his head and shifted as if to sprint forward, but a light pressure on his wrist stopped him. Lirra's small, calloused fingers had closed around his hand.
"Before you go," she said softly, eyes lifting to meet his, "should we at least exchange names? We… might not see each other again."
"Not interested," Airen replied without hesitation, pulling slightly against her grip.
A shadow of disappointment crossed her face, though it seemed she had expected that answer. She let out a breath, then offered him a gentle smile — surprisingly warm, almost luminous against her roughened features.
"Even if you don't tell me yours," she murmured, "I'll tell you mine. My name is Lirra." Her eyes gleamed with a quiet sincerity, the corners of her lips curving in a smile that, despite everything, held a touch of fragile hope.