Somehow, my eyelids felt sealed shut, weighted far beyond reason, as if the whole world had collapsed into a formless dawn, drifting without anchor or direction. My body sagged against the cave floor, melted like candlewax, powerless against the stubborn pull of stone and gravity. Every now and then, my nose twitched faintly, catching wisps of something sweet drifting through the chill air.
Strange, the scent was gentle, warm, like vanilla dissolving into the current of a secret river. Each measured breath drew more of it in, tangling deeper in my head, lulling me, pulling my thoughts in slow circles toward a sleep that had no bottom.
I could feel it: that soft tide of fragrance taking hold, gently tugging me toward the far edge of dreams. But a stubborn splinter of awareness clung on, clutching at the stream, refusing to let go. With grim effort, I pried my eyes open, just a crack, chasing a fleeting slice of lost time, desperate to measure how deeply I'd slipped under.
Light stabbed at the corners of my vision, sharp and merciless, carving into senses still fogged by sleep. I rolled over, slow and half-adrift, searching for any sign of Gelemia, but all I found was emptiness, her presence pressed thin between memory and absence, as if she'd been swallowed up by the stone itself.
For a heartbeat, I longed to dive back into the river of dreams, to let reality crumble a little longer. But the world gave me a roughened slap instead. The cave's silence bit sharply now; the air brittle, tinged only by the lingering warmth where Gelemia once lay.
Now my eyes snapped open, wide and wary, with a whisper of fear crawling up my neck: was I slipping into some fevered hallucination? No. Gelemia was truly, completely gone.
"Gelemia?" My voice rasped from my throat, ricocheting off rock and getting lost in the hush, unanswered, as if the cave had swallowed sound whole.
Working my knees beneath me, trembling, I forced myself up. Every joint ached in protest, but I pressed on, combing the cave from end to end: her sleeping spot, every murky crack, even those bone-littered corners we both had sworn to avoid, nothing but silence.
"Erin, are you awake?" Panic mingled with my words, sinking fast.
"Yeeaaah…" Erin's voice drifted back, thick with sleep.
"It's bad, I can't find Gelemia anywhere."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"She's gone, Erin. Really gone." My chest felt like it was clamped tight, hundreds of invisible hands squeezing the air from my ribs.
"You sure you checked the whole cave?"
"Why'd you think I'm running around yelling my head off if I hadn't?" My voice teetered between anger and defeat. It felt like I could barely breathe, the cave shrinking tighter with every wave of panic.
This was bad. What if Gelemia had gone and done the unthinkable after pouring her heart out last night In a place sealed up as tight as a tomb, anyone desperate enough could lose the thread that tethered sanity.
Once more, I scoured the cave, hunting every shadowed corner: rough stone slicked with gloom, stalactites dripping slow as clock ticks, that heap of old bones we'd always avoided. And now thin coils of incense, sweet-smelling smoke snaking through the chill air, wrapping the cave in a sickly-sweet cloud, vanilla gone cheap and masquerading as royal.
Wait. Incense? Sweet smoke? That was never here before. My lungs squeezed tighter, each breath an invitation to sleep, drowsiness clawing at my skull.
I lurched forward on the edge of exhaustion, grabbing the stick and hurling it across the cave. The incense scattered, smoke unspooling and dissipating as I stomped, ground it out, desperate to erase every last trace from the stone.
"...someone's been here," Erin's voice seeped around my thoughts.
I barely nodded, knees instinctively locking as my body tensed. I scrambled out of the cave, heart hammering. My eyes raked the tangled forest below, taking in everything like prey watching for hunters. "Gelemia!" I shouted, my cry cutting through the fog, ricocheting from tree to tree.
"Why on earth would you two hole up somewhere like this? All those bones—huge red flag!" Erin grumbled, her tone somewhere between exasperated nurse and drill sergeant.
"Dammit." I bit the words off, anger simmering. "Who'd want to spend the night here? Reeks to high heaven, if the storm hadn't blocked us, I'd rather sleep in a pigsty!"
Erin pursed his lips, but before he could retort I shot back, "And another thing, you haven't done a thing to help since yesterday, so maybe just keep quiet, yeah?"
My gaze swept the forest again, paranoia burrowing under my skin. There was no way I'd overlook the smallest sign.
Thinking fast, my mind landed on an answer as sharp as a knife: that incense wasn't ours. Most likely? Pig-goblins, the tribe that'd been tracking us yesterday. Gelemia was gone, and nothing would stop them slipping into the cave if they wanted. Those bones? They didn't just show up by themselves. This was some kind of old graveyard, dumping ground, or maybe a larder. One way or another, whoever left them would be back, and soon.
But… why only Gelemia? Why leave incense behind, carefully ensuring I'd stay locked in oblivious sleep, suspicions dulled? Why just her? Questions flared and tangled through my mind, clashing like bare-bladed swords, no hilt, no answers, only the sting of wondering.
It wasn't until I was deep in the tangled green and dappled sunlight that my eyes caught movement, a figure. Not an animal, and not quite human, at least not fully. Its body mimicked a person's, but something about the shape, the texture of its skin, and most of all that face, broke every rule of the familiar while ringing oddly close to home.
No doubt about it, a pig goblin; one of the very beasts that chased me just yesterday. Yet the way it moved, the measured, wary way it ghosted through the forest, was a world apart from the half-mad raiders I'd met before. There was a rhythm to its gait, a careful negotiation of light and shadow, a silence so deliberate it seemed woven from discipline.
It dragged a freshly-killed deer behind it, threading through knotted roots and the broad, ancient columns of trees. A bow rode bare across its back, arrows quivering with each step, silent, precise, never so much as rattling together. My instincts prickled, whispering the obvious: this pig goblin was different.
Holding my breath, I slipped down the craggy edge of the cave's mouth, moving like smoke, no sound, just shadow, keeping well back, close enough to study but not close enough to give myself away. Every detail was caught in my gaze: the anxious twitch of a tail, the quick nostril flare, the way its shoulders rolled with silent focus. I tracked it through the hush, the forest folding around us, branches bending low to hide our passage. Nothing moved but a shiver of leaves and the relentless thud of my own heart.
Soon, the creature halted at the bend of a narrow brook, water sparkling in the angled morning light. Half-crouched behind a screen of brambles, I watched as it gathered dry twigs, built a careful heap, then struck a spark from stone, the fire sprang up neat and quick, the act so practiced it might have been second nature. Out came a short, gleaming knife; in swift, clean strokes it skinned the stag, separating hide from muscle with a skill that bordered on artistry. Blood ran over leathery fingers, blending with the raw scent of earth and riverbank, the pelt freed with a motion born from a thousand repetitions.
I couldn't look away. Something gnawed at my sense of logic: just yesterday, these creatures had been wild and vicious, howling and smashing at anything that breathed. But here and now, this pig goblin was calm, almost… gentle? There was no savagery, no mindless hunger, just careful, measured work. It struck me, with the ache of a half-remembered dream, that its every gesture echoed something unmistakably human.
Then a sharp jolt of energy lanced through my skull, familiar, insistent, a trespasser's touch inside my head. Awareness splintered; I hovered outside myself, a puppet with cut strings, as Erin slipped into the driver's seat, smooth as silk, unstoppable, cool as moonlight on stone. The world faded at the edges.
He moved, no longer lurking, striding straight through the thicket, cracking leaves broadcasting his arrival, impossible for the pig goblin to miss. Erin didn't hesitate; he spread his fingers wide, conjuring two black spheres and squeezed them tight until they shifted, lengthening, fusing into a slick, baseball bat.
The creature whirled, round eyes wide with panic, limbs freezing mid-motion. But before a sound could leave its mouth, Erin's bat hammered through the air, one mighty swing. Thunder split the clearing. The pig goblin crumpled with a single, staggering thud, unconscious on the dew-soaked grass.