Into the Unknown

The mine stretched deep into the earth, carved out by goblin hands over the past few weeks. The air was thick with dust, the scent of damp stone clinging to every breath. Faint glows of enchanted ore flickered in the darkness, but the goblins weren't here for those. They needed metal—iron, steel, anything that could be melted down and forged into weapons, armor, and tools.

Tika, the leader of the goblins, stood at the entrance, arms crossed, her sharp eyes scanning the workers. Nearly all of them were her children or grandchildren, countless goblins hammering away at the walls. Some were small, barely old enough to hold a pickaxe, yet still working. Others were seasoned diggers, their bodies hardened from years of mining.

"Faster," she called out, voice carrying through the tunnels. "We don't have all night."

The goblins picked up the pace. The sound of pickaxes striking stone became louder, more frantic. Sparks flew as metal kissed rock.

Gruk, her eldest, stepped forward, sweat dripping from his brow. His pickaxe was chipped, rust eating away at the edges. A gift from Ruston, the forge god, but even divine blessings couldn't stop time from wearing it down.

"Mother," he grunted, wiping his hands on his dirt-streaked tunic. "This part's softer. Might be something good."

Tika grabbed the pickaxe from his hands without a word. She weighed it in her grip, feeling the balance. The metal was old, baptized by Ruston's flames long ago, yet it still carried a faint glow. She tested it, swinging once at the rock face.

A crack formed. Deep. Promising.

She tossed the pickaxe back. "Keep going."

Gruk nodded and returned to work, but a younger goblin hesitated nearby. His hands trembled as he held his tool. His name was Pib, one of her youngest grandsons. Barely old enough to be here.

"What if we dig too deep?" Pib asked, voice barely a whisper.

Tika's gaze snapped to him. The other goblins fell silent.

"Then we see what's waiting," she said.

No one spoke after that.

The mine belonged to the goblins. Whatever was beneath them, that was its problem.

The goblins worked relentlessly, their small bodies moving in unison like ants tearing into a carcass. Pickaxes slammed, rocks broke, and sweat dripped into the dirt. Every strike brought them closer to something—something buried for who knows how long.

Tika moved between them, correcting grips, adjusting stances, making sure no one slacked off.

A scream rang out.

One of the younger goblins jumped back, dropping his pickaxe. "Something moved!"

The tunnel went still. Every goblin froze, their ears twitching. Even Tika narrowed her eyes, focusing on the shadows.

Nothing.

Gruk stomped over, grabbing the boy by the ear. "It's a rock, you fool. Keep digging."

The goblin nodded quickly, picking up his tool again, but the unease lingered.

Tika didn't like it. Something was off.

Hours passed. The deeper they dug, the more restless the air became. It wasn't just the exhaustion settling into their bones. It was something else. Something breathing beneath them.

Then—

A deep crack.

The wall in front of Gruk split open, revealing a gaping hole. A cavern.

A rush of stale air blew out, carrying the scent of something ancient.

Gruk stepped back, eyes wide. "Mother…"

Tika pushed forward. She grabbed a torch, holding it out toward the hole. The light flickered, barely illuminating the darkness beyond.

Something was down there. Something waiting.

For the first time in years, Tika felt a shiver crawl down her spine.

"Clear it," she ordered.

The goblins hesitated, but no one dared disobey. They widened the hole, breaking the rest of the stone away until the entrance was big enough for a goblin to crawl through.

Gruk looked at her. "Do we send scouts?"

Tika didn't answer. She simply grabbed a rope, tied it around her waist, and stepped forward.

Gruk cursed under his breath but nodded, securing the other end.

"Lower me down."

The goblins held the rope, their tiny hands gripping tight. Tika took a breath and climbed through the opening.

The cavern was massive. Far bigger than any goblin tunnel. The walls were lined with strange markings, glowing faintly in the dark. Stalagmites jutted from the floor like jagged teeth, and in the distance, something shimmered.

Metal.

Weapons.

Armor.

And bones.

A graveyard.

Tika exhaled slowly. She reached for her dagger, her instincts screaming at her.

Then she heard it.

A slow, deep breath from somewhere in the darkness.

Something was still alive down here.

She looked up at the goblins waiting above.

"Pull me back up."

They didn't question it. The rope tightened, and Tika was hauled back into the tunnel.

The second she was out, she turned to Gruk.

"Seal it."

"But—"

"Now."

Gruk didn't argue. He ordered the goblins to collapse the entrance, burying whatever lay below.