Jack pushed himself upright, his body still heavy with exhaustion and the aftershocks of battle. Though he would have liked to sleep for a day and night after everything he had been through, there was nothing to rouse one to wakefulness like having a friend try to stick a blade in you. Through the dappled moonlight filtering in through the high canopy, Jack’s eyes fell upon the struggle unfolding on the forest floor.

  There, amidst the scattered leaves and broken twigs, Cael and Goldeyes writhed in combat. The goblin’s lean form lay sprawled, his face contorted in agony and inner conflict. His hands, once steady, flailed weakly as if trying to reject an unseen force. Against him, Goldeyes—his loyal white Companion, the sentinel of their pack—snarled and lunged repeatedly, each powerful swipe of his massive paws filled with raw, animalistic fury. The two clashed with desperate intensity; Goldeyes’ golden eyes burned with a mix of betrayal and determination, while Cael’s features were marred by pain and the lingering influence of the cursed dagger.

  Jack’s heart pounded in his ears as he watched, torn between his instinct to intervene and his caution born from past mistakes. Every fiber of his being screamed to stop the carnage—to protect his friend and pack member from harm—but the chaotic tension in the air made him hesitate. He was painfully aware that any misstep could spark an even greater maelstrom.

  For a long moment, time seemed to stretch out. The forest around him fell silent except for the ragged breaths of his companions. Jack’s mind raced with conflicting thoughts: regret for not taking action sooner, worry over the goblin’s condition, and a rising, desperate need to reassert control in a situation spiraling toward disaster. He wanted to rush in, to pick up his spear and end the duel before it could escalate further.Yet he feared hitting Goldeyes and was not sure enough of his precision to attack. Also he was reluctant to attack a friend, even if that friend had tried to stab him only moments earlier.

  Then, with a sudden, forceful motion that shattered the fragile stillness, Cael’s eyes snapped open. His gaze, haunted and fierce, locked onto Goldeyes as if summoning some hidden strength from the depths of his despair. In one swift, almost superhuman (or perhaps supergoblin) movement, Cael surged to his feet. A look of grim determination spread across his face as he brought a powerful leg kick forward. The impact was brutal—a resounding thud that reverberated through the ground beneath them. Goldeyes, caught completely off guard by the sudden surge of force, was sent hurtling sideways, crashing into a thick clump of underbrush with a cry that mixed shock and wounded pride.

  Jack’s heart hammered in his chest as he witnessed the display of unnatural strength from his once-troubled companion. The goblin still clutching his dagger in a shaking fist, struggled to regain his balance. His eyes flickered with a mixture of pain, defiance, and something akin to remorse. For an instant, Jack thought he saw a glimmer of the old Cael—the one who had once been a reliable friend and ally. But the moment was fleeting as the cursed dagger—long a silent tormentor—seemed to awaken with malevolent purpose. Without warning, the blade sank slowly into Cael’s skin. The sight made Jack’s stomach twist with horror as he saw the once-familiar flesh begin to ripple and change.

  The dagger’s edge, cold and merciless, carved a thin, crimson line as it sank deep into Cael’s arm before vanishing entirely beneath the goblins flesh. It was as though the knife had a life of its own—an insidious presence that feasted on his very essence. Cael gasped, his eyes widening in shock and agony. The transformation was swift and brutal. Where smooth skin had been, now emerged a glistening, chitinous layer, as if a second, unnatural epidermis were forming. The goblin’s veins darkened and twisted, merging into a network of scaly, almost insect-like patterns that quickly began to spread across his body. The fingers of his right hand, once dexterous and agile, began to elongate and thin, the nails sharpening into serrated, obsidian-like claws that then fused into a serrated forelimb. Then same grotesque process began on his left hand.

  Jack’s heart pounded as he watched the horror unfold before him. Cael’s body shuddered violently, his muscles spasming uncontrollably as the cursed magic of the dagger took full hold. The transformation spread rapidly; a sickly luminescence outlined the grotesque new features that now marred Cael’s form. His eyes—once filled with wary determination—flashed a deep, unearthly yellow as they widened in terror. The familiar scent of the goblin was now tainted with an acrid tang of decay and something far fouler—a reeking stench reminiscent of rotting carrion.

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  For several agonizing seconds, Cael’s form seemed suspended between what he had been and what he was becoming—a tortured amalgam of goblin and insectoid horror. His limbs contorted unnaturally, the movement jerky and inhuman. The fabric of his clothes tore as the transformation ravaged his body, revealing patches of mottled, chitinous skin beneath. Jack could see the internal struggle in Cael’s eyes, a desperate battle between the remnants of his free will and the invasive influence of the cursed blade.

  Then, as if summoning every ounce of strength from the depths of his being, Cael’s eyes met Jack’s. There was a brief moment—a heartbeat—when it seemed he might fight back against the malevolent force. His body trembled as he raised a hand, his clawed fingers flexing in a desperate attempt to halt the transformation. But the dagger’s power was relentless, and with a final, guttural cry that echoed through the still night, the cursed weapon seized full control. Caels transformation completed.

  What stood before him bore little resemblance to a goblin. It looked more like a giant black insect with two scythe-like limbs pointed menacingly in his direction.

  Jack picked up Aetherspire and pointed it at the approaching monster.

  “I don’t want to fight you Cael.”

  The creature advanced.

  The crashing of leaves and snapping of branches heralded Lyla and Monsoon’s arrival. Their hurried footsteps drew near, their faces pale with alarm and readiness. Jack turned his head just in time to see Lyla’s wide, terrified eyes take in the nightmare before them.

  “Jack, what happened? Where’s—” Lyla’s voice choked as her gaze fell upon the twisted, monstrous figure standing where Cael once had been.

  The thing that was once Cael loomed before them, its body covered in gleaming black chitin. Two serrated forelimbs jutted from his arms like the blades of some hideous insect, their edges gleaming wickedly under the faint moonlight. The creature’s legs had bent backward, joints crackling as they adapted to its new form. Even its face had morphed, warped into a grotesque mask of hunger and madness, with mandibles twitching as if testing their newfound strength.

  Its eyes—once Cael’s sharp, clever eyes—were now voids of pure darkness, their glare devoid of reason or sanity. Whatever had once been their goblin friend was now buried beneath the cursed dagger’s ravenous influence.

  Monsoon growled low, his hackles rising as he recognized the threat before him. The Wavewolf’s muscles tensed, but the flicker of hesitation in his eyes spoke volumes. This was not a foe to be taken lightly.

  “Cael…” Jack’s voice was a hoarse whisper. He took a step forward, only to be met with a feral hiss that scraped against his nerves like nails on stone. His spear felt heavier in his hands, the idea of using it against his own companion a poison in itself.

  “Get back, Jack!” Lyla cried, her hands already weaving magic, threads of yellow Fire. Monsoon took a step forward, his watery aura surging with protective intent.

  But Cael—or what remained of him—had other plans.

  With a sudden, jerking motion, the creature’s chest expanded and heaved. Then, with a wet, guttural roar, it expelled a noxious, yellow fog from its maw. The cloud didn’t simply spread—it surged forward like a living thing, coiling itself around Jack and Goldeyes with unnatural precision. The haze formed an oppressive, swirling barrier that cut them off from Lyla, Monsoon, and Tanner entirely.

  Jack barely had time to cover his mouth and nose before the burning stench clawed its way down his throat. Goldeyes let out a pained yelp, his instincts driving him back, but there was nowhere to retreat. The fog encircled them completely, its caustic touch scraping at Jack’s lungs and searing his skin.

  He heard Lyla shouting from somewhere beyond the smoke, but her words were lost to him—muffled and distorted by the thick, poisonous barrier. Goldeyes’ movements grew sluggish beside him, the wolf’s powerful body trembling under the corrosive assault.

  Through the haze, Jack saw the monstrous figure of Cael moving toward him with dreadful purpose seemingly unbothered by the yellow cloud. Those jagged forelimbs raised high, ready to cut him down.

  There was no time to think. Only act.