The Knight

The tunnels didn't breathe like they used to.

Not that they ever really had, but something about them felt different now. The air was colder. Not sharp, like a snap of winter wind, but damp, thick, slow. Every breath Haise took tasted of stone and rust. The lamp Karsen held in his left hand flickered with a dancing flame, casting shadows across the cave walls. It danced with every step, every shift of their weight, never steady enough to trust.

Their boots scraped across uneven stone, crunching grit underfoot. Haise's sword bumped softly against his thigh, its weight more comforting than the light they carried. He kept his free hand low, not quite touching the wall but close enough that he could feel the pulse of cold air oozing between cracks in the stone. Karsen walked ahead, steps light, eyes fixed straight ahead like he was tracking something only he could see.

"Remind me again," Haise said, not bothering to keep his voice low, "how the hell this counts as a good idea?"

Karsen didn't answer.

They'd been walking for nearly half an hour since leaving the last cavern behind, deeper into the network of tunnels the goblins had carved through the earth. If this even was a goblin tunnel. It looked too old, too worn. Natural, maybe, but not untouched. Somebody had been here long before them.

The flame wavered, forcing Haise to blink away the sudden darkness that surged before settling again.

"Seriously," Haise muttered, squinting into the black ahead of them, "this lamp barely cuts ten feet. If something's waiting for us, we're dead before we even see it."

Karsen finally stopped. He didn't turn, just lifted his hand and pointed toward the wall.

"There."

Haise stepped closer, peering at whatever had caught his attention. Just bare stone, wet with condensation and moss. Nothing obvious. No bones, no blood, no claw marks.

"You see something I don't?" he asked.

Karsen leaned in, dragging two fingers lightly across a patch of wall where the moss changed shade. Darker. Sticky, almost. He rubbed his fingertips together, then flicked the residue away.

"Territory mark," he said.

Haise blinked. "Territory?"

"Goblins leave signs when they settle. Claim tunnels. Moss rot means they pissed here. Claw scratch if they've claimed it long. No claw, no nest. But they're close."

Haise stared at him, unsure whether to be disgusted or impressed. Probably both.

"You learned that from a book?"

Karsen's lips curved into a faint grin. "Learned it by surviving… Arno's lessons"

That didn't help Haise's nerves. He stepped back, still staring at the wall. There were faint scuff marks on the stone floor, now that he looked harder. Like something sharp had scraped across it, not deep enough to be from a blade. Claws?

He didn't know. But Karsen walked like he did. And that was enough for now.

They pressed on, deeper into the earth, winding through tunnels that bent with no pattern. Sometimes narrow, just enough room to pass through sideways. Other times opening into sudden chambers too large to light. The lamp always struggled to keep pace, its glow too dim for answers, too bright to make the darkness feel honest.

Haise followed without a word, tension building in the tight space behind his ribs. He'd never felt like this in the woods. Not even during the ambush. This was something else. Like the walls themselves were watching. Like something old had stirred and gone still again, waiting.

The tunnel widened ahead. Light, real firelight, flickered at the far end, bleeding orange into the shadows.

Karsen slowed, raising a hand. Haise stepped up beside him, sword held low.

The smell hit first.

Smoke. Cooked meat. Sweat. And something older. Decay, maybe. Like blood that had dried days ago and never been cleaned. It curled around their throats, sour and sticky.

Haise wrinkled his nose. "Goblin camp?"

"Could be," Karsen whispered.

They moved carefully, one foot at a time, toward the mouth of the cavern.

The walls opened up abruptly, the tunnel giving way to a massive hollow space where stalactites hung like rotted teeth from the ceiling. Firelight flickered from half-hidden torches jammed into the walls. Figures moved near the center, shapes hunched around a low pit, heads down.

Haise squinted, trying to make out details.

Then something cracked against the stone just inches from his boots.

He froze. The echo rang through the chamber.

An arrow.

Embedded deep into the ground, its tip buried in fractured rock.

Karsen didn't move. Neither did Haise.

The next sound came softer. The whisper of movement, the rustle of clothes, the creak of worn leather.

Figures emerged from the shadows, five in total, surrounding the edges of the chamber. Not goblins. Human.

Their gear was mismatched. Some wore heavy coats and boots, others lighter armor wrapped over stained tunics. Everything looked stolen, scavenged, pieced together for function over appearance. Each of them held something dangerous. One had a bow still aimed, fingers twitching against the string. Another had a curved blade, only half drawn but ready.

And then the sixth figure stepped forward.

Not mismatched. Not dirty.

Their armor gleamed.

Polished silver, flawless even in the flickering light, each plate smooth and without a scratch. The cloak hanging from their shoulders moved like it didn't touch the ground. Every step was measured, deliberate. They carried no weapon visible, but Haise knew without question this was someone dangerous.

The others shifted subtly, weapons lowering as the silver figure raised a gloved hand.

Silence settled over the cavern.

The voice came a moment later, calm, too steady to be natural, echoing slightly from inside the helmet.

"I am Avari. The Heavenly Knight of the Calvali Empire. Who am I speaking to?"