The biting wind howled through the twisted trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and death. The moon, high in the sky, cast its pale light over the field of destruction that had once been his tribe. But Grekh did not look back.
His feet sank into the cold mud as he walked aimlessly, without direction. Every step was a challenge, his weak and wounded body protesting each movement. But he couldn't stop. Not now.
His chest still burned, a hollow sensation where that fierce energy had once been—that blue flame that had destroyed everything around him. He stretched out his hands before him, observing them in the moon's faint glow. They were the same dirty hands as always—rough, stained with soot and dried blood. But something within them was no longer the same.
He tried to concentrate, to feel that force once more.
Nothing.
No spark, no heat—nothing but the cold that now dominated his body.
What happened to me?
The question spun in his mind like an endless echo.
He had never heard of goblins possessing magic. Humans? Yes. Elves? Always. Even dwarves had their enchanted runes. But goblins? They were the weak, the disposable, the prey of hunts and massacres.
And yet... he had done it.
He had killed humans with fire.
Fire that should not exist.
His stomach growled, dragging him back to the harsh reality. It didn't matter what had happened. Now, he had to survive.
Grekh looked around, analyzing his surroundings. The dense forest stretched in all directions, its dry branches forming ghostly shadows under the moonlight. The ground was covered with dead leaves, exposed roots, and cold mud.
His instincts screamed that he was not alone.
The forest at night was never silent for long.
He stopped, sharpening his ears.
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Far off, a rustling in the underbrush. Something small, but agile. Not a human. Perhaps an animal. Perhaps something worse.
His body tensed. He had no weapons. No knife, not even a sharpened stick. Only his empty hands and an exhausted body.
Whatever it is, it's watching me.
Grekh slowly slid backward, stepping carefully to avoid making noise. He needed to hide, to find shelter before something decided that a lone goblin would make for an easy meal.
He walked a few more meters, his eyes scanning the forest for anything he could use to his advantage. Then he saw it.
A narrow crevice between two moss-covered rocks. Too small for a human to pass through, but perfect for someone his size.
Without hesitation, he slipped inside, curling up in the darkness of the tight cave. The scent of damp earth surrounded him, and the sensation of being enclosed by solid stone brought a fleeting sense of relief.
He sat against the cold wall and took a deep breath.
What do I do now?
His eyes closed for a moment. Exhaustion threatened to consume him entirely, but he knew that sleeping out in the open was an invitation to death.
He needed to think.
Food.
Water.
A better shelter than this hole.
He opened his eyes again, staring at his hands. Still nothing.
Did the magic disappear? Was it just an accident?
Or would it return when he least expected it?
The thought did not comfort him.
He remained there, quiet, listening to the forest breathe around him. The cold bit into his skin, and his stomach twisted with hunger, but he ignored it.
For now, simply being alive was a miracle.
And he would not waste it.
---
The morning came slowly, bringing with it a grayish glow that barely pierced the thick canopy of the trees. Grekh dragged himself out of his improvised cave, his muscles sore and his mind still clouded by exhaustion.
He needed to move.
His feet sank into the damp ground as he walked, keeping his ears attuned to any strange sounds. The world seemed different now—every shadow seemed to hide something dangerous, every noise sent chills down his spine.
He sniffed the air.
Water.
There was stronger moisture in the air, and the scent was clean, fresh. A stream, perhaps.
He followed his instinct, moving between the twisted trees until he found a small brook cutting through the forest. The crystal-clear water flowed over smooth stones, glistening under the dim morning light.
He knelt and plunged his hands into the cold water.
The sensation was invigorating, and he drank quickly, ignoring the pain in his empty stomach.
If I don't find food soon, it won't matter if I'm alive.
He looked around, searching for anything edible. Roots, berries, anything. But the forest here seemed cruelly barren.
Then, he heard it.
The sound of something moving in the water.
He looked at the brook and saw them.
Fish.
They weren't large, but there were many of them.
His heart raced.
If I can catch one, I'll have food.
But how?
He had no net, no spear, nothing he could use.
Except…
He looked at his hands.
What if…?
His chest tightened at the thought. But he had no choice.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He recalled the sensation from before. The heat rising within him. The pressure. The power.
Nothing.
Frustrated, he clenched his teeth and plunged his hands into the water, trying to grab a fish by force. But they were too fast. He fell face-first into the shallow current, feeling the icy water seep into his skin.
He growled, irritated, punching the water.
Then, he felt it.
A spark.
A faint warmth, almost imperceptible, pulsing inside him.
His eyes widened.
It was weak, distant, but it was there.
The blue flame still existed.
But it was hiding.
And somehow, he knew…
It was waiting to awaken again.
He pulled away from the brook, taking a deep breath.
Not now.
He needed to understand it before the magic consumed him.
But now, he had something more urgent to take care of.
Survival.
He wiped his face with his hands and looked around.
The forest was cruel, but he would not die here.
If the blue fire wanted him to live, then he would live.
And he would find out what he truly was.
With one last look at the brook, he stood up.
And moved forward, in search of a new tomorrow.