The darkness was total.
There was no ground. No sky. No sound. Only a dense, heavy void that pressed on Steve's mind like an invisible sea. He didn't feel his body. Didn't feel pain. Didn't feel cold. It was as if he had been reduced to pure thought... and fear.
Then, something changed.
In the middle of that absolute nothingness, a soft light appeared.
Steve opened his eyes — not physically, but within his own mind — and saw her.
A woman.
She appeared to be just over twenty years old. Her skin was too white, like untouched snow. Her long hair, equally white, floated gently, as if it didn't obey gravity. Her blue eyes shone with an impossible calm, deep, almost ancient.
She smiled.
Not an open smile. It was delicate. Reassuring.
— Just hold on a little longer — she said, with a soft voice that echoed directly inside him.
Steve felt something tighten in his chest.
Relief.
Without thinking, he raised his arm, trying to reach her.
— Wait... — the voice came out weak. — Who are you?
His fingers almost touched her hand.
Almost.
The woman began to come undone.
It wasn't like disappearing. It was as if something pulled her back behind the world. Her body was being sucked by an invisible force, her hair stretching in the air, the smile remaining until the last instant.
— No! — Steve shouted.
She vanished.
The void began to stir again.
Steve started to run.
He ran without legs, without ground, moved only by desperation. He advanced toward the point where she had been ripped away, screaming with the throat he didn't have:
— Who are you?! Where am I?! Get me out of here!
Nothing answered.
Until he stopped.
In front of him, something new appeared in the void.
A child.
She was sitting on the nonexistent ground, her back to him, hugging her own knees. Her small body trembled. The sound of crying echoed low, broken, fragile.
Steve felt his heart tighten.
He approached slowly, looking around, suspicious. The void seemed to watch him.
— Hello... — he said, carefully. — Little girl... are you okay?
The crying continued.
— I want my mommy... — the child murmured, with a trembling voice. — I want to go home...
Steve swallowed hard.
He crouched behind her and lightly touched her shoulder.
— It's okay... I'm here. I'll help you.
The child's body stopped trembling.
Very slowly, she began to turn her head.
Steve felt something wrong before even seeing it.
The movement wasn't human.
When the face turned completely, too fast, the world seemed to break.
It wasn't a little girl.
It was the goblin.
The yellowish, empty eyes stared at him. The mouth opened in a deep scream, thick, impossible for a child.
— I WANT MY MOMMY!
Steve fell backward, panic exploding like fire.
The void shattered.
---
He woke up screaming.
His entire body was drenched in sweat. His chest rose and fell uncontrollably, air entering in short, desperate gasps. His heart seemed to want to tear through his ribs.
— No... no... — he murmured, eyes wide.
The room was small, made of rustic wood. The smell of herbs, blood and something medicinal permeated the air. Two women were beside the bed, their hands glowing softly as they healed wounds on his body.
Seeing him wake up like that, the two were startled.
— Ah! — one of them screamed.
Both backed away, hugging each other in a corner of the room, their eyes wide with fear.
Steve breathed with difficulty. He was shirtless. His entire body covered with bandages. The pain returned all at once, along with the smell of his own blood.
— Where... — the voice came out hoarse. — Where am I...?
The women didn't answer. They trembled.
Then his body began to react.
His hands began to shake on their own. Involuntary spasms. The smell of blood seemed to get stronger, more intense. The memory of the goblin pierced through his mind like lightning.
The sound of the healers' screams made something break inside him.
Irrational fear.
Pure.
Steve tried to get out of bed, panic dominating everything.
— Let me go... let me go! — he shouted, even though no one was holding him yet.
The door opened forcefully.
Two men entered quickly. They wore cloaks that covered their entire bodies, from head to toe, showing only their eyes. Before Steve could react, they grabbed him by the arms and forced him back against the bed.
— Let me go! Now! — he screamed, fighting uselessly.
Then another man entered.
Tall. Middle-aged. Dark hair. He wore a similar cloak, but his face was partially visible — from the nose up. His eyes were too calm. His smile, too serene.
— Release the young man — he said, with a calm voice.
The two obeyed immediately.
Steve got up in a desperate impulse and ran, passing the man and leaving the room.
The light outside blinded him for an instant.
When his vision adjusted, he stopped.
In front of him was a simple village. Houses of straw and wood. People walking peacefully. Children ran, laughed, played. Almost everyone wore cloaks that covered their entire bodies — except the children, whose faces were free.
The idea of fleeing died there.
The man approached from behind and placed his hand on his shoulder.
— We don't want to hurt you, young man.
At that moment, something blinked before Steve's eyes.
[SURVIVAL INSTINCT — ACTIVATED]
[CONDITION: ON THE VERGE OF DEATH]
[WARNING: INCOMPATIBLE BODY]
The world spun.
His legs failed.
Steve fell.
Darkness swallowed him again.
---
Steve woke to silence.
It wasn't normal silence. It wasn't peace. It was absence. As if the entire village had held its breath at the same time. The weak flame of the lamp in the room no longer burned. Darkness swallowed everything.
He sat up slowly in bed.
His body still hurt. Each movement made his muscles complain, the wounds burn under the bandages. His chest rose and fell too quickly. His heart had never really slowed down since the forest.
Something was wrong.
He couldn't say what. He just felt it.
Steve placed his feet on the cold wooden floor and stood up. His head was still heavy, as if he had slept too deeply... or been forced to. He walked to the door. Opened it.
The village slept.
Houses of straw and wood aligned simply. No fires lit. No voices. No laughter. Only the distant sound of the forest, alive, breathing around them.
The children slept.
Some lying on mats outside the houses, faces visible, expression peaceful. Steve frowned. It was strange. The adults covered themselves completely, even during the day. The children didn't.
He took a few steps.
Each step seemed too loud. The floor creaked under his weight. He stopped, waiting for someone to appear. No one appeared.
The smell came before the sound.
Strong. Raw. Metallic.
Steve stopped.
His stomach turned.
It wasn't the smell of the forest. It wasn't earth. It wasn't wood. It was... flesh. Fresh blood. Something chewed. Something violated.
Then he heard it.
A wet sound.
Chewing.
Slow. Violent. Unhurried.
Steve felt his scalp tingle. Survival instinct screamed for him to go back. Now. But something inside him — perhaps trauma, perhaps curiosity — pushed his feet forward.
An open tent.
The fabric swayed slightly with the night wind.
The sound came from there.
Steve approached, each step heavier than the last. His breathing became short. His heart began to beat irregularly again, as if recognizing danger before his mind.
He extended his hand.
Pulled back the canvas.
The world broke.
On the ground, on skins stained with blood, was the goblin's head.
Eyes gouged out. Mouth open in an eternal rictus. The greenish skin now pale, lifeless.
Steve felt the taste of bile rise in his throat.
Beside the head... a man.
He wore the same cloak as the other inhabitants. Covered from head to toe. Kneeling. His hands held a piece of raw flesh that he brought to his mouth voraciously.
Crunch.
The sound of teeth tearing muscle echoed inside Steve's head.
Blood dripped down the man's chin. Dripped to the floor in thick drops. He chewed slowly. Savoring.
Steve took a step back without realizing it.
The floor creaked.
A small sound.
But enough.
The chewing stopped.
Silence fell like a blade.
Steve remained motionless. His lungs locked. His entire body went on maximum alert. Every nerve screamed.
Very slowly... the man began to turn his head.
Not his body.
Just his head.
The movements were unnatural. Extremely slow. As if he wanted to prolong that moment. As if he wanted Steve to feel every second.
Steve felt his legs weaken.
The smell got stronger. Unbearable. The blood seemed more alive now, almost pulsing in the air.
The head kept turning.
The fabric of the cloak creaked slightly.
Steve wanted to run.
He couldn't.
Wanted to scream.
No sound came out.
The man finally stopped.
Even with his face covered, Steve felt it.
The gaze was on him.
Fixed.
Evaluating.
The man tilted his head slightly, still kneeling beside the goblin's head, as if before a sacred offering.
The silence stretched.
And then, in a low voice, too calm, almost affectionate, he spoke:
— ...You shouldn't be awake.
Steve felt a chill run through his entire body.
The man placed his blood-stained hand on the ground and began to stand up.
Very slowly.