The companions stopped 2 hours later, when Orme’s lungs threatened to give up on him. They were close to the river, close enough to safety. They walked slowly for a bit, but Wren suddenly stopped.

“I'm sorry I… I think I'm gonna be sick…”

And sick they were. It lasted so long the others started to worry.

Then they remembered: it was Wren's first experience in combat. That was bound to happen. Orme rummaged in his bag to find water and handed it to Wren when they finally stopped heaving, along with a piece of honey candy.

“Don't drink too fast or it'll start again. Take it easy. Slow, deep breaths. That's it. You might get some headaches, you'll definitely have stomach pains. You will feel a little off for a while. It's all right. Keep breathing. In, 1, 2, hold. Out, 1, 2. You've got this.” Orme had never thought to see a child of his go through this. It was sad, and he felt like a failure of a parent for putting them in this situation.

Iyona set up a quick camp by the riverbed and waited for ORme and Wren to arrive. They made our slow way there, Wren still gagging every now and then.

“No solid food for you tonight,” Iyona said. “Your body wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Wren's stomach growled. They had all quickly gotten used to 2 big meals a day.

Dinner that night was sparse and silent, and followed quickly by sleep. Everyone was exhausted from the battle and the running. 

In his tent, alone with his thoughts, Orme couldn't help but wonder what exactly had happened back at the fae camp. He couldn't believe the humans had been killing each other on top of fighting the fae for no reason. He couldn’t fathom the cruelty in their gazes, the sheer brutality of their sword strikes.

Those thoughts followed him in his dreams, which were dark and worrisome. He slept poorly that night.

Everyone did.

They stayed a few days in that spot, to recuperate and for Wren to come to terms with what they'd been through. Thankfully they hadn’t killed anyone, nor been wounded. But they did avoid a couple of sword strokes by sheer luck. 

During those days Wren asked Iyona for more intense training. If that was how they coped, Iyona wouldn’t blame them. They all trained with more vigour than ever.

“So, should we try and check those ruins again? They should all be gone by now.” Wren seemed reinvigorated and more sure of themselves that morning. 

Iyona was smiling. “Back to the ruins it is, then!”

The companions went back the way they’d come, walking slowly and paying attention to every noise. They couldn’t be sure the humans who’d attacked wouldn’t have set up camp where the fae had been. Nobody wanted to come face to face with them.

The ruins seemed empty. It took them half a day to get there, walking slowly to avoid detection in case someone was still around.

They finally could take a good look at the ruins.

It consisted of a smallish square made of ancient stone. It must have been a decent sized house once upon a time. The mortar was crumbling, but the gray stones were still intact. In fact, what Orme had taken as a chair for the fae leader was actually a single huge stone that seemed to have fallen to the side.

They looked around one last time. All clear.

There was a small entrance that must have been a door for people much shorter than any of them. A ways behind, a staircase. Iyona retrieved a torch from her pack, lit it, and led the way. She had her sword at the ready in case they stumbled upon more opponents.

They moved forward a little but their way was soon blocked by… goblins? Orme didn’t know they still existed. Iyona gave Wren the torch and lifted her sword. No way were either she or Orme letting the kid fight this time.

Goblins are a pain to fight. Small, thin, numerous, they are a real pain in the ass. These ones were no exception.

Orme slashed left and right and below, keeping his stance low so as to actually hit them. He heard Iyona do the same beside him, blocking the goblins from reaching Wren, who held the torch as high as they could so the others could see what they were doing. Goblins don’t need light, they have perfect night vision. Orme was hoping the torch would blind them, but they adapted fast.

His sword met resistance at every strike, and he was glad for Iyona’s presence by his side. Without her he’d soon have been outnumbered and run down. Nobody wanted to be goblin stew.

The fight intensified as more and more goblins showed up. Orme was slowly but surely forced to step back, and back. He bumped into Wren at the foot of the stairs, and decided to change his approach. Orme got down on one knee so as to have better leverage and be at the right height for these attackers. And then, he went berserk. 

He could feel Iyona retreat behind him. He was glad for it, he could let his rage out in full without fear of hurting her.

Orme shouted, yelled, and in the end… he transformed.

He was no longer himself, he was the beast that was hiding deep underneath a polished façade. The one that had won him all his battles, that had made him a captain, feared and respected by friends and foes. It was free, at last.

Orme slashed faster, more precisely, yet with less skill. He aimed to kill, no longer to just wound. The beast was out for blood.

He couldn’t hear or feel Wren and Iyona anymore. He was alone in a sea of goblins, transforming the green of their skins to the red of their blood. More. Orme wanted more. He needed more. His movements became faster still, frenetic. He couldn’t see for the red that blinded him. He couldn’t stop anymore. 

Nobody bothered to count how many goblins died that day, before they decided to retreat. All Orme knew was that there were live goblins surrounding him, almost drowning him, and then there were none. He was left alone with the dead.

He was panting. It took him a long time to regain his senses and clean his sword. It took him longer still to dare face the others.

They didn’t say a word. Wren only shook the torch forward, signaling they should go.

Iyona handed Orme some water, he drank, and they continued their exploration. The stairs gave into a wide hall, covered in dust. There must have been adornments on the walls in the past but they were long gone. Everything seemed gray and dark. 

The ceiling was too high for the torch to reach it, which explained why there had been so many stairs.

The companions moved forward cautiously, but as fast as they dared. The goblins would definitely return, and probably with greater numbers. Even Orme wouldn’t be able to pull the berserk card a second time.

As they progressed, the lack of outside noises started pressing on their skulls. It was dark, it was depressing, and it was quiet. Orme, who had spent his life at sea where it was the opposite, soon felt suffocated. All of them were looking forward to getting out of there.

Suddenly something caught Iyona’s eye.

Something shone at the edge of our light.

Something small and red.

She motioned for the others to follow. This must be the reason behind the goblins being there and so numerous. They wouldn’t have long to assess what it was.

Wren got on their knees so as to better see the artifact. Orme moved as close as he dared to look as well. Iyona watched the darkness for goblins.

It was set inside a glass dome. Small, round, and red, it had markings engraved on it but Orme couldn’t decipher them. Wren was mystified. “Hey kid, we better take the thing and leave. They won’t leave us alive for long once we take their treasure. They won’t even let us inspect it.”

Wren suddenly broke the glass, pocketed the item, and turned around. “We better run,” they said.

Without waiting for another word, they all ran.

They reached the exit, and kept running. Night had fallen, and the goblins would follow. They heard the horde crawling behind them, ready to pounce.

The one thing humans have over goblins is the ability to tolerate light. Other than that, goblins are as strong, have as much stamina, and can run as fast. In other words, during nighttime, far from any human settlement, with a goblin horde behind them, they were about screwed.

They ran in the direction they’d come from, hoping the river would stop the goblins. If they made it that far.

Orme could already feel his legs hurting and his breathing quickening a half hour in.

It would take 2 hours.

He had to keep the pace. To not fall behind. He couldn’t fight a whole horde, even with a few missing from earlier. He had to run.

He focused on his steps, making sure to take as big ones as he could. He couldn’t stop. He had to stop. He couldn’t breathe. He had to run. Again and again, one foot in front of the other, faster, faster, they’re closing the distance. His legs were about to give up on him. His breathing came in ragged gasps. Just a little bit more. You can do this, Orme. You can do this…

Wren and Iyona seemed so far in front of him. “If this is how I die”, he thought, “at least the kid is in good hands. They’ll be protected.”

Everything went black and Orme collapsed.

Wren and Iyona kept running, not seeing their companion on the ground behind them.