Ready to bite, kick, and claw, Rook was surprised when he was instead swung aside and released. Darkness twisted around him—psychedelic, dizzying—as shifting greys bled into the shadows. Falling to his hands and knees, Rook squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to keep his supper down.

Henry’s warm carpet squirmed like insects under his fingers, flattening into something smooth. Something freezing.

Damp, cold air flooded his lungs. A violent coughing fit overtook any sense of caution.

“It’s here!” a scratchy, unfamiliar voice echoed over Rook’s hacking.

Rook jerked.

Beyond the smoker’s rasp, the voice sounded wrong. Inhuman.

Fear whispered of unseen horrors waiting the moment he opened his eyes—monsters ready to strike if he called for help. But not knowing what was in front of him was almost worse.

One eye cracked open.

A jade-coloured floor met his gaze. Solid. Real. Stable. Creepy as fuck.

He drew in a slow breath. His stomach settled. The urge to cough faded as his lungs adjusted to the air.

Looking up, both eyes snapped fully open.

He was in… A cavern?

Deep underground, his instincts screamed.

An inkling of claustrophobia stirred in him despite the space’s cathedral-like scale. Quartz-like stones hung from roughly carved walls, glowing faintly—illuminating a high ceiling studded with stalactites, each point poised as if ready to fall.

A faint drip echoed from somewhere.

Rook struggled into a crouch.

“Why isn’t it asleep?” the scratchy voice persisted.

Rook snapped his head toward it.

Cloaked, the speaker stood near one of three openings carved into the cavern wall. Their hunched form shifted to keep its face hidden as it studied him. But it was their arms that held his attention. Burnt, branch-like limbs hung from beneath the fabric, reaching down to their knees.

‘Branches’ continued, “Corruption is going to be mad.”

“Lis avail dev Corruption,” a feminine voice answered—soft, but gravelly.

A second figure stood a few metres away. Draped cloth concealed most of her form, a veil covering her face and stopping at a grey-brown, pointed chin.

Rook slowly rose to his full height, hesitantly stepping back from them. He swallowed, finding almost no saliva. His pulse hammered so loudly he was certain they could hear it.

I owe Henry a huge apology about the supernatural! Or… whatever this is. And Dalia!

His family’s therapist was going to make a fortune.

“Speak in Common,” a third voice ordered from behind him.

Rook turned on wobbly legs and froze.

The speaker was leaning casually against the cavern wall. It wore a cloak that failed to conceal layered leather armour beneath it. The scarred surface spoke of practicality—of real fights. Not costumes. Not games.

The figure lowered their hood. Murky green skin—bark-like, cracked, and dry—covered a face that carried an unsettling intelligence. Cold, muddy eyes studied Rook. Eyes that promised violence

Goblin, Rook’s mind supplied with unnerving certainty.

“But yes,” the goblin continued. “As you said, Corruption brought this one. None-the-less, it shouldn’t be awake.”

His calculating gaze narrowed.

Rook staggered.

Normally, he tried to reserve judgement when meeting people. But every instinct he had was screaming at him: fight or flight. But how? Where could he go?

He winced as his head throbbed.

Branches gasped.

Realising it must have looked like he’d given the goblin a death glare, Rook paled.

“Perhaps this be his?” the goblin muttered, frowning. He scratched at four deep scars running down the left side of his face, stopping short of his closely cropped black hair.

From a bear? Rook thought. Whatever had done that had been big.

The air to Rook’s right shimmered.

He jerked away, but a gloved hand shot out of the distortion, seizing the cuff of his shirt. A tall, dark figure stepped through the shimmer, yanking him back.

Rook hit the ground like a rag doll. Dazed, he pushed himself onto his elbows.

A corroded bronze mask stared down at him. Human-adjacent, but stylised. Deer antlers rose from thick brown hair, giving the figure an almost pagan silhouette.

“No running, Rook,” the masked figure tutted, pinning the corner of Rook’s pant leg beneath a boot.

Rook wilted, wishing the floor would swallow him whole. This voice matched the one from the darkness. His kidnapper.

“Rook?” the goblin said. “So, it is his.”

“Why is it not asleep?” Branches repeated, only to whimper under the Corruption’s gaze.

“It is a he,” Corruption said pointedly. “And the reason he is not asleep is because his kind are immune to direct, influential magic. They have a deep connection to earth, flame, and sky; a triad that, when combined, disrupts magic. It won’t stop effects cast around them, however. It simply prevents direct enchantment.”

He tilted his head slightly, looking back at Rook from the corner of his eye.

“Which is why I could not simply put him to sleep like the others. Shall I allow him to attack you, so you can see firsthand how your dryad charms would fail to stop him?”

Corruption tipped his boot up.

Yanking his leg free, Rook scrambled upright.

Branches immediately pressed themselves against the wall, crying, “Please, no, my liege!”

Rook had no intention of attacking anyone. The fact that something this terrifying was afraid of him made no sense at all. However, it did make the exit beside the dryad look like the most appealing route to run for.

Corruption was next to Rook in a blink. A hand settled on top of Rook’s head, fingers sinking into his hair and pinning him in place.

“Stay still.”

The command landed with such weight, that Rook obeyed out of dumbfounded fear.

Corruption turned his attention back to the others without releasing him.

“Now, will you waste my time further by continuing to question my decisions?”

“N-No, my liege!”

The goblin snorted.

Corruption turned to look at him, his fingers sifting Rook’s hair as he did so.

“Has his chamber been prepared?”

“Since you started fetching children yesterday.” Thruin’s grin sharpened as he stared at Rook. “I’ve been waiting for this one.”

“Remember restraint, Thruin,” Corruption warned, giving Rook suspicion this wasn’t the first warning.

Thruin gave a small bow.

Corruption gestured toward the second exit. Two soliders marched in, dressed in medieval-like armour. They appeared unfazed by Rook’s presence.

“Escort Rook to his room,” Corruption said. “Then return. Three more will be collected with the hour.”

The moment Corruption left the room, Thruin’s sneer widened. He gestured to the soldiers to hoist Rook to his feet.

Before Rook could jerk away, Thruin’s callused fingers seized his chin, turning his head from side to side as if inspecting a thoroughbred.

“Still an infant, but I see your kin in you. Noble or malicious beasts, depending on one’s perception of your kind.” Thruin’s eyes narrowed. “But I know one thing for certain: you are all wicked to the bone.” His expression shifted in a way that made Rook shiver. “However, I’ll admit… your bodies are—"

His free hand brushed over Rook’s bicep.

“Don’t touch me, goblin!” Rook spat, instinctively wrenching backward.

The soldiers tightened their grip, preventing him from retreating further.

Thruin seized Rook’s chin again, holding him firmly. Rook could count the lime-coloured flecks in his eyes as the goblin leaned closer, their faces inches apart.

“And finally, he speaks.” Annoyance dominated Thruin’s expression. But so did curiosity. “You know what I am? None who have awakened remember this world.”

Desperate to hide his fear, to hurt the bastard—even if it amounted to little more than a gnat bite—Rook snapped back, “The stench makes it obvious.” He tried turning his head away, nose wrinkling, but Thruin held him in place. So, he added, “Ever heard of bathing?”

One of Thruin’s eyes twitched. His smile remained composed, but it failed to reach his eyes. Instead, it stretched the scars across his face, making the hairs along Rook’s arms rise.

“Amusing.” The goblin’s voice lowered. “That pride will be stripped away soon enough.”

Thruin looked away and spoke several sentences in another language to someone else in the room. A knife found its way into his free hand, where he casually rolled it between his fingers. When he returned his attention to Rook, his voice was almost pleasant.

“Watching your spirit dwindle, marred beyond repair, will bring me great pleasure, Rook.”

“How abhorrent.” the female spoke up. Her accent was the clearest of the group, something Rook hadn’t noticed earlier through his panic.

Thruin sneered, but returned the knife to its sheath on his belt.

“I know his kind far better than you. If he isn’t broken in mind and body, he won’t serve Corruption’s goals.”

“That is for Corruption to determine,” the female replied cooly.

“I am Corruption’s right hand.”

Any hope Rook had that she might help vanished when she merely sighed, “And I am his head scholar. But as someone who’s read numerous histories, I can confidently advise: do not let your judgement become muddled by old enemies.”

Thruin touched the scars on his face.

Seeing the lines up close, Rook realized the marks would have been quite deep when first made.

Catching Rook staring, Thruin spun him around and snapped at the female, “Shouldn’t you be off dictating to your scholars? Recording the latest arrivals?”

“Of course, Captain.”

“Dökkálfar,” Thruin muttered under his breath at her departure.

Grabbing Rook’s arm, Thruin tore him from the soldier’s grip. His metal-clad boots clanked against the stone as he dragged Rook, unwillingly stumbling after him in his socks, towards the furthest exit.

The soldiers followed behind at a slower pace.