The forest changed after dark.
Damien noticed it first in the silence—the way birdsong died, the way insects held their breath, the way the very air seemed to wait for something. His new body registered every shift, every tremor, every heartbeat within a hundred yards.
Three of them. Small. Fast. Circling.
"Finally," the Voice purred.
"Shut up." Damien kept walking, pretending he hadn't noticed. "I'm trying to find a road. Or a cave. Or literally anywhere with a bed."
"You're trying to survive. I'm trying to feed. We have different priorities."
"I fed you yesterday. The rabbit thing. That was disgusting, by the way. I could still taste it hours later."
"That was survival. Not feeding. There's a difference." The Voice sounded almost amused. "You'll understand soon."
The circling shapes drew closer. Damien could see them now—low to the ground, moving in that unsettling half-crouch that suggested bipedal creatures who'd forgotten how to walk upright. Their eyes caught the moonlight. Glowed faintly green.
"Goblins," the Voice supplied. "Low-tier. Stupid. Hungry. Perfect for practice."
"Practice for what?"
"For everything."
The first one attacked without warning—a blur of motion from his left, claws aimed at his throat. Damien's body moved before his brain caught up. He flowed around the strike, one hand catching the creature's wrist, the other gripping its throat.
Giku.
The goblin went rigid. Not from fear—from something Damien's fingers did. A pulse of warmth shot up his arm, and suddenly he could feel the thing's life: its frantic heartbeat, its simple hunger, its utter terror.
"Yes," the Voice breathed. "There it is. Now squeeze."
Damien squeezed.
The goblin convulsed—biku biku biku—and then went limp. But not dead. Not exactly. It lay on the forest floor, eyes wide, lips parted in a moan that had nothing to do with pain.
Nnn... aaah...
"What the fuck?" Damien stared at his hands. They tingled. Glowed faintly. Felt full.
"First taste. How was it?"
"I didn't—I barely touched it—"
"You touched its essence. Drank deep without drinking. That's the gift, Damien. That's the hunger. And that?" The Voice nodded toward the trembling goblin. "That's the afterglow. They'll crave you now. Forever. One touch and they're yours."
The other two goblins had stopped circling. They stared at their twitching companion, then at Damien, then back at each other.
They attacked together.
---
It was almost boring.
Damien caught the first one the same way—wrist, throat, squeeze. Giku. The second tried to bite him, and he simply... pulled. Dragged its essence out through its teeth. The sensation was indescribable: warm honey flooding his veins, electric pleasure sparking behind his eyes, the Voice laughing in his skull.
When it ended, three goblins lay moaning at his feet. Nnn~ Aaah~ Haa... Their sounds layered over each other, a chorus of helpless pleasure.
"Well done." The Voice sounded almost proud. "You're a natural."
"I feel..." Damien swayed. His vision doubled. Tripled. "I feel drunk."
"Essence high. It passes. But first—"
The world shifted. Suddenly Damien could see them—not the goblins, but something in them. Threads of light connecting each creature to... everything. The earth. The trees. Each other.
"Essence Sight," the Voice explained. "First Echo. From your first taste. You'll see desires now. Needs. Lusts. Every creature's painted in colors you never knew existed."
Damien looked at the goblins. Saw green hunger (food). Yellow fear (him). And underneath, pulsing faintly—
"Yes," the Voice whispered. "That pink glow. That's the good stuff. They want you now. All of them. Even terrified, even confused—they want."
"What do I do with that?"
The Voice laughed. Actually laughed.
"Damien. My sweet, stupid, virgin Damien. You take what's offered. You give what's needed. And you grow. "
The largest goblin—female, Damien realized, seeing her clearly for the first time—crawled toward him on hands and knees. Her eyes were glassy. Her lips parted. When she reached his feet, she looked up with an expression that made his stomach flip.
Worship. Pure, desperate worship.
"Take her," the Voice urged. "Not because you want to—though you will. Because you need to. More essence. More power. More echoes. This is the path, Damien. One taste at a time."
"I can't just—she's a goblin—"
"She's a creature with desires. Same as you. Same as me. The difference?" The Voice paused. "She knows what she wants. You're still pretending."
The goblin's hands found his thighs. Traveled upward. Her touch was rough, calloused, hungry.
And Damien's body responded.
"There it is," the Voice crooned. "There's the Shaper. There's the hunger. Stop fighting, Damien. Start taking. "
---
Her name was Grilka.
He learned this later, when she could speak again. At the moment, she couldn't speak at all—could only make sounds that started somewhere deep in her chest and escaped as nnn~ nn~ aah~ against his skin.
She'd stripped him efficiently, those rough goblin hands surprisingly deft with laces and ties. Then she'd looked at him—at what the reforging had made of him—and her green eyes had gone wide with something beyond desire.
"What," she breathed, "are you?"
"Something hungry," Damien heard himself say. His voice didn't sound like his own. Lower. Darker. Hungrier.
Suap suap—her mouth found his throat, his collarbone, his chest. She kissed like she was starving, like he was the first meal she'd seen in weeks. Her tongue was rough, textured, interesting.
"Goblins have rough tongues," the Voice supplied helpfully. "For scraping meat off bones. Imagine what else they can scrape."
"Not helping."
"Wasn't trying to."
Grilka's hands found his cock, and Damien's thoughts scattered.
She was efficient. No hesitation, no shyness, no pretense. Her grip was firm, her strokes purposeful, and the sounds she made—juru juru—suggested she was enjoying this at least as much as he was.
"You taste..." She licked her lips. "You taste like everything. Like the whole forest. Like—" Her eyes widened. "Like him." She looked up, past Damien, at something only she could see. "Like the green god. Like the old hunger."
"She senses me," the Voice murmured. "Through you. Through the bond. Interesting."
Damien didn't care about interesting. He cared about the heat building in his belly, the way Grilka's hand moved, the way her other hand was tugging at her own crude clothing.
"Need," she gasped. "Need you in me. Now. Please—"
Damien flipped them.
He didn't plan it—his body just moved, faster than thought, and suddenly she was on her back with him above her, her legs spreading automatically, her eyes wide with surprise and need.
"Yes," the Voice hissed. "There's the Shaper. There's the dominance. Don't ask, Damien. Don't negotiate. Take. She wants to be taken."
Grilka's nod was frantic. "Yes. Yes. Please."
He entered her in one motion.
Jupu.
The sound was obscenely wet, impossibly tight. Grilka's back arched—giku—and a sound tore from her throat that was half scream, half moan, entirely AAAAH~!
"Essence," the Voice urged. "Don't just fuck her, Damien. Feed. Draw it out. Taste her."
Damien didn't know how. But his body did.
With each thrust—jupu jupu pucha—he pulled. Not physically. Something deeper. Each withdrawal drew a thread of warmth from her core into his. Each penetration pushed something of himself back. A circuit. A current. A bond.
Grilka's moans grew incoherent. Her claws raked his back—zuru zuru—drawing blood that she immediately licked away, her rough tongue scraping the wounds clean.
"You taste," she gasped between thrusts, "like power. Like—like I could live forever on this—"
"She could," the Voice noted. "Essence bond works both ways. She feeds on you now, too. Makes her stronger. Makes her yours. "
Damien's pace increased. Pucha! Pucha! The sounds of their bodies filled the clearing—wet, rhythmic, primal. Grilka's legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him deeper.
"More," she begged. "More—aaah~! —I need—"
He gave her more. Drove deeper. Pulled harder. The essence flow became a flood—her fear, her hunger, her centuries of goblin simplicity, all pouring into him. And in return, he gave her purpose. Direction. The first clear thought she'd ever had that wasn't about survival.
You're mine now.
He didn't say it. Didn't think it. But she heard it.
"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes—yours—always—AAAAH~! "
She came screaming. Her body convulsed—biku biku biku—every muscle spasming as pleasure ripped through her. Damien felt it with her, through the bond, her orgasm amplifying his own, and when he finally spilled inside her, it was with a roar that startled birds from trees a mile away.
Haa... haa... fuu...
They lay tangled together, breathing harsh, bodies slick with sweat and other fluids. Grilka trembled against him—puru puru—small aftershocks still running through her frame.
"Well," the Voice said after a long moment. "That was educational."
"Shut. Up."
"You're welcome, by the way. For the enhanced stamina. The supernatural control. The—"
"I said shut up."
Grilka giggled. Actually giggled, a sound so incongruous coming from a goblin that Damien laughed despite himself.
"What?" he asked.
"You." She poked his chest. "You talk to the air. The nothing. But it talks back. I can feel it. In here." She touched her sternum. "Warm. Hungry. His."
"She's perceptive. Keep her."
"I'm not keeping anyone—"
Grilka's stomach growled. Loudly. They both looked down at her belly, then at each other.
"You need to eat," Damien said.
"I always need to eat." She shrugged. "Goblin."
"And the other two?" He nodded toward where the remaining goblins still lay moaning, slowly recovering from their own essence drains.
Grilka's expression shifted—something complicated flickering across her features. "They're... mine. My sisters. We hunt together. Eat together. Live together." She looked at him sideways. "We could... serve together. If you wanted."
"A harem offer. From a goblin. Charming."
"A what offer?"
"Harem." Grilka said the word carefully, like it was new to her. "I heard it. From you. From him. In my head. You collect women. Powerful women. We're not powerful—" she gestured at herself, at her sisters, "—but we're loyal. And we know the forest. Every path, every predator, every queen."
The way she said queen made Damien's ears prick up.
"What queen?"
Grilka's eyes went distant. Scared. "The spider queen. The weaver of webs. She rules these woods. Eats anything that enters her domain—adventurers, monsters, even goblins if we're stupid enough to get caught." She looked at Damien. "You're heading toward her territory. I can smell it on you. The forest bends that way."
"An arachne," the Voice murmured. "Perfect."
"Perfect?" Damien sat up. "You heard her—she eats people."
"She eats the weak. You're not weak. Not anymore. And she's been alone for... oh, three centuries? Give or take?" The Voice's tone was gleeful. "An ancient queen. Untouched for centuries. Powerful. Lonely. Desperate. Damien, my boy—that's not a threat. That's a target. "
"I'm not seducing a giant spider."
"You just fucked a goblin."
"That's—that's different—"
"Is it?"
Grilka watched this exchange with fascination, her head swiveling between Damien and the empty air where the Voice seemed to reside.
"He's loud," she observed. "In my head. But... good loud. Like thunder before rain."
"He's a menace."
"I'm an asset. And I'm telling you—the spider queen is the key. Bond with her, and you control the entire forest. Her webs stretch for miles. Her children number in the thousands. Her power—" The Voice practically purred. "Imagine what we could do with that."
Damien imagined. And hated that he could.
"What about them?" He nodded at Grilka and her sisters. "I can't just... drag them along."
Grilka's face fell. Just slightly—she covered it quickly—but Damien saw. Three centuries of Essence Sight, apparently, came with the ability to read micro-expressions.
"She wants to come," the Voice observed. "They all do. You're the best thing that's ever happened to them. One taste of your essence, and everything else is ash."
"That's horrifying."
"That's power. Use it or lose it, Damien. But don't pretend you didn't know what this was when you started."
Damien looked at Grilka. At her sisters, now stirring, watching him with those same glassy, worshipful eyes. At the forest beyond, dark and ancient and full of things that wanted to eat him.
Then he looked inside himself—at the hunger that hadn't faded, at the power that thrummed through his veins, at the Voice that cackled in his skull.
"Fine." He stood, pulling Grilka up with him. "You three stick with me. You know the forest, you guide us to the spider queen's territory. But when we get there—" He pointed at Grilka. "You stay back. I'm not having anyone else killed because of me."
Grilka's eyes widened. "You're... taking us? With you?"
"I'm using you. There's a difference."
"Is there?" the Voice murmured.
Grilka didn't hear—or pretended not to. She threw her arms around Damien's neck, pressed her rough lips to his, and kissed him with an enthusiasm that suggested she'd just been given the greatest gift of her life.
Suap suap. Her tongue found his. Her body pressed close. And Damien felt it—the bond strengthening, deepening, becoming something more than physical.
"Congratulations," the Voice said dryly. "You have a harem. They're goblins, but still. Everyone starts somewhere."
Damien broke the kiss, gently pushing Grilka back.
"Get your sisters," he said. "We move at dawn."
Grilka nodded frantically and scrambled toward the other two goblins, who were now sitting up and looking around with dazed expressions.
"One more thing," the Voice added. "Check your Echoes. The goblin gave you something new."
Damien closed his eyes and felt inside himself. There—beside the Essence Sight—something else. A new thread. A new power.
Echo of the Pack: You can now sense the location and emotional state of anyone you've bonded with. Range: 1 mile. Increases with harem size.
He opened his eyes and felt Grilka—halfway to her sisters, excited, nervous, hopeful for the first time in her short, brutal life. He felt the other two goblins—confused, hungry, but already reaching toward him through the nascent bond.
"Useful," the Voice noted. "And only going to get better. Imagine feeling every member of your harem, always. Imagine commanding them across distances. Imagine—"
"I'm imagining sleeping." Damien found a relatively flat patch of ground and sat heavily. "We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."
"Of course. Rest well, Shaper. Tomorrow, we hunt a queen."
Damien lay back, staring at the stars through the canopy. Grilka and her sisters settled nearby—close enough to feel safe, far enough to give him space. Their breathing slowly evened out.
He should have been terrified. Horrified. Something.
Instead, for the first time in his life, Damien Blackwood felt full.
He slept without dreaming.