(POV: Dame Althene Rhys)
The first goblin Althene encountered was screaming.
The little beast did not launch an attack or an ambush as expected for any would be intruders or passersby but instead it was raving in an uncontrollable fit of screaming.
It burst from the treeline clutching its head, green skin split by dark veins that pulsed and throbbed beneath the surface. It fell to its knees before the knights could even raise their weapons, shrieking as if something inside it were trying to claw its way out.
Then its eyes ruptured.
Althene did not flinch but did did take a single step back to avoid the splash zone. No one knew what the hell was goin on exactly except that it wasn't normal. They had been called to rescue captives but with all the mayhem it made sense now how one may have managed to escape. It was unusual.
"Formation," she ordered calmly.
Steel rang as the Radiant Order snapped into place, shields raised, lances angled forward. More goblins staggered into view—some crawling, some clawing at their own chests, others beating their heads against trees or stone in blind panic.
None of them attacked.
That was wrong.
She had never in her life seen or even heard of goblins behaving like this. Goblins in general would swarm their victims completely unafraid of death when in a large group like this one. They gladly died shrieking praise to their gods although not all goblins worshiped the dark ones they still behaved in similar manners. People had often joked that their brains were too small to know fear. That wasn't the case now.
These ones infront of them were dying full of terror of somthing, but she couldn't begin to fathom what.
"By the Light…" Sir Vaelor muttered.
Althene's jaw tightened. "This is no normal nest. Move. Carefully." Her orders were clear. Goblins were not a threat to them each one of them could easily kill a hundred goblins on their own however, whatever was stirring them up was an unknown factor. They couldn't rush in.
They advanced through the forest toward the cave mouth, the air growing heavier with every step. Magic clung to the land here, thick and distorted, like heat rising off scorched earth. The horses balked, refusing to go farther.
Althene dismounted.
The cave entrance loomed ahead, stone cracked and blackened as if struck from within. Faint red light flickered erratically inside—not steady, not controlled.
Broken.
She felt it then.
Not divine presence.
Absence.
Like a shrine that had been torn empty.
"Captain," one knight said softly, "do you hear that?"
Althene knew exactly what the man was referring to, she had heard it as well.
Voices—fractured, overlapping, panicked. Goblin voices raised not in worship, but desperation.
She drew her blade at the sounds.
"Advance." With the Divine presence gone they had nothing and no one to fear now even if theor was an unknown factor as long as it was not the gods interference they should be able to shoulder through.
They took their first step into the cave, then another and another until they reached the first opening. The scene inside was utter chaos.
Symbols carved into the stone floor flickered wildly, some extinguished entirely, others flaring too bright before shattering into nothing. A ritual bowl lay split in two, blood evaporating into red mist that curled upward and vanished.
Both the still and writhing bodies of goblins lay everywhere.
Some dead. Some twitching. Some screaming as if their own skin had turned against them.
And at the center—
Althene stopped.
Chained to the altar was a boy.
No.
Not a boy.
He was young, yes—but his presence pulled at the space around him. Pale skin faintly luminous. Hair streaked through with white and ash-gray, the colors bleeding together unnaturally. His body bore wounds that should have killed him many times over, yet his chest rose and fell slowly, steadily.
The chains binding him glowed faintly, runes fighting to stay lit.
He looked… awake.
Not thrashing.
Not screaming.
Watching.
When his eyes met Althene's, something cold slid down her spine like slick black ice cold oil.
Those were not the eyes of a captive begging for rescue.
Those were the eyes of someone who had did not fear pain.
"Gods," Vaelor whispered. "What is he?"
Althene did not answer, she didn't know. She did know that she had never seen such a human she wondered briefly if this boy was some sort of cross breed but something about that line of thinking didn't quite fit. He didn't resemble any intellectual species she knew of nor any monster then realization hit her.
Because the goblins were backing away from the altar now—crawling, sobbing, refusing to come closer. One of them shrieked something unintelligible and fled deeper into the tunnels.
The boy seemed to smiled at the site. His teeth mesmerizing.
It was a small smile filled with exhaustion, but it was unmistakably just that, a smile.
The altar cracked.
Stone split with a sound like a mountain breaking its teeth.
The chains flared—then dimmed.
Althene raised her sword, heart pounding—not in fear, but in grim certainty.
So this is what we were sent to find, she thought.
Althene had heard the stories of heros of the ancient past growing up, they lulled her to sleep but never in her imagination had they looked quite like this.
"Captain," a knight said urgently. "Orders?"
Althene did not look away from the altar.
"Secure the chamber," she said. "Protect the captives." She only briefly glanced at the caged vilagers, their whole reason for coming.
"And the boy?"
Althene hesitated.
Just for a breath.
Then, quietly: "No one touches him until I understand what he is."
Because one thing was already clear—
Whatever powerful being had been feeding on him had lost its grip. That was not something people could accomplish.