Chapter 432 Big, Scary Dark

Hatchling’s panicked twitches slowed. Warmth was familiar, darkness safe, and the steady thump-thump of Hermit’s pulse against its back was a rhythm it instinctively knew—the sound of home, of safety, of something that would not let go.

Hermit lowered his head, bringing Pepper closer to his chest, his other ear curving protectively over the first, doubling the shelter. He could feel the hatchling’s tiny heartbeat against his skin, fluttering like a dying moth.

“You’re okay, you’re gonna be okay. Shhh-shhh, little one. Shhh-shhh, you's okay. You's gonna be okay. Papa's got you. Dis big, scary dark... it's just my ears. It's safe in here. Nothing can get my Pepper in here."

A sob hitched in his chest, but he swallowed it, forcing his voice to come out.

"You's da bravest, Pepper. Da bravest I ever seen. You fought so good. So strong. Now... now you can rest. Ain't no more hurt coming. No more bad hands. Just quiet. Just warm. You feel dat warm? Dat's me. I'm right here. I ain't going nowhere. Not ever."

He pressed his lips to the soft space between his own folded ears, a kiss meant for the hatchling sheltered within. 

"We gonna stay right here, you and me. Just like dis. And when you's all rested up... we'll see da sun. I promise. A real sun, not da little fires in da dark. A big, warm one dat makes everything green. You'll like dat. You can dig in da soft dirt. I'll find you da fattest, juiciest worms. You'll grow big. Bigger dan me. With ears like sails, to hear all da good sounds... da wind in da leaves, da water in da stream... my voice telling you stories."

His own voice broke then, crumbling under the weight of the beautiful, fragile lie. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding the image for both of them.

"Just sleep now, my Pepper. Just sleep. Dream of green. Dream of warm. Papa's right here. Holding you. I got you. You's okay... you's okay..."

He repeated it like a prayer, like a spell, pouring every shred of his love, his helplessness, his profound and simple heart into the words until he passes out, snoring loud.

Outside, the snowstorm raged on. Inside, the fire guttered. And in the space between wakefulness and sleep, Hermit dreamed of a world where none of this had ever happened.

Suzuka's eyes slid from Hermit’s snoring face to the sad, lumpen shape of Kaka in the far corner, partially obscured by the filthy, stained pelt.

"Hey! Hey, weepy-ears. Didn't you forget someone?"

She took a step closer, nudging Hermit with her boot. He didn't stir.

"What about old Kaka over there? Hmm? You gonna leave him in the corner, in that pile of shit you dragged him through? Covered him in a pelt that reeks of goblin piss and shit? Waiting for the cave parasites to start eating on what's left of him? At least put him in a clean spot instead of leaving him in pile of goblin shit."

She waited. The only response was a soft, wet snore from Hermit, his body curled protectively around the hatchlings.

"Hey, Royal Sadness, I'm talking to you. What happened to all that noble, sorrowful talk? 'My beloved Kaka! My precious! I can't go on without him!' Looks to me like you're going on just fine. Snug by the fire while he's freezing on a pile of shit you left him on. Just shows how actually little you care about him."

Hermit let out a small, sleepy giggle.

 "Mmm... warm... so warm... nice fire... Big soft nest... no stones in my back. Full belly... ate... ate the good mushrooms... big ears... keep the drafts out... No shouts... no chains... just quiet... good quiet... All my little beans... safe an' warm... all in a pile..."

She stepped forward and delivered a sharp, merciless kick to his side.

"Are you listening?"

She kicked him again, harder.

"Useless goblin, can't even look after his own. Running his mouth is all he's good at."

He didn't even grunt this time. Just snored, a faint, whistling sound escaping his sniffer.

Her gaze drifted back to Kaka in the corner.

"Tck, stupid goblin. Can't even look after the one thing he claims to love. Fine, I’ll do it myself. Since your caretaker’s on permanent vacation. First, you need to take a bath. I can't stand this stench of goblin shit.”

She walked over to Kaka. Without a hint of gentleness, her fingers dug into the loose, blood-caked skin at the back of his scalp. She hauled him up, his limp body dragging across the filthy stone, and carried him to a half-broken rain barrel near the cave mouth, still mostly full of snowmelt and ice.

Without mercy, she plunged Kaka into the barrel. A torrent of bubbles erupted. She held him under for a three-count, then yanked him out.

Kaka’s body convulsed. A water-clogged scream tore from his lungs—a raw, animal sound of pure shock as the burning cold and the violent rush back to consciousness shredded through his coma.

 "Nngh—! Master Slasher—no more, please, I'll—glug—I'll take the eggs, I'll take 'em all, just not the spear in my stinky hole, not the stick again! The torch—not the fire, not inside my butt, not again, it burns, it burns—I'll be good, I'll be a good breeder, I won't fight! No more beatings—my back's broke, I feel it, please!"

 The sound was cut short as Suzuka dunked him again, submerging the scream into a gurgle.

 "Bucket—I can't drink no more, I'll burst, I swear I'll burst, please—!"

Dunk. A convulsion. A shattered, gasping inhale that was half water.
Pull out. A weak, agonized cry for air.

"Just... let me sleep in the muck... just the muck... not the water... not the cold dark... please..."

Dunk. The cry swallowed by the icy dark.
Pull out. A silent, full-body shudder, his eye rolling white.

"The laughing... make the laughing stop... your laugh in the dark... it follows me into the sleep..."

Each immersion was a drowning. Each emergence was a suffocating rebirth into pain and cold. He jolt awake to the sensation of ice filling his nose, his mouth, his torn wounds, only to be plunged back into silent freezing blackness before his mind could fully grasp it. Over and over, until his struggles grew feeble and his awakenings were nothing more than a flicker of terror behind his eyes before the darkness took him again.

Finally, Suzuka hauled him out and let him slump, dripping and shuddering, onto the stone floor. Water pooled around him. He didn’t scream this time. He just lay on the stone, water pouring from his mouth and nose in a continuous, weak stream.

 Goblin slaves like him were creatures of warmth and sauna-like heat, their green flesh meant for warm dens and sunbaked stones. The cold wasn't just uncomfortable; it was torture.

“That's more like it. At least now you won’t stink like goblin shit and regret. Next. Your wounds are a festival for parasites. I need a disinfectant. I think I still got some strong alcohol in my item storage."

She splashed alcohol over him, a generous, glugging splash that drenched his torso, his stumps, the ruined flesh of his belly. The alcohol hit the open, raw wounds and the reaction was immediate and violent. A sickly hiss rose from his flesh. Tiny, furious white bubbles erupted across the ravaged tissue, foaming as the high-proof spirit seared and scoured.

"REEE! MY SKIN IS COMING OFF—IT'S FIZZING OFF—! Not the boiling fat—not again—Master Slasher, I learned, I learned! The acid ants—you poured the nest on me—they're eating me alive!"

Kaka’s body, which had been reduced to faint tremors, arched off the ground. A scream was ripped from him, a sound of such pure, unadulterated agony that it held no voice, only sheer, tearing pain.

"THE FIRE—I'M INSIDE THE FIRE NOW—! PUT IT OUT! FOR PITY, PUT ME IN THE ICE—THE ICE BARREL AGAIN—!"

 It was the sound of nerve endings being burned alive. He thrashed, a fish on a hot stone. The pain was an all-consuming fire, an acid bath melting him from the outside in. He fainted, his mind shattering under the sensory onslaught.

"It's... cooking me... I can smell myself cooking..."

The retreat from consciousness offered no refuge. The pain dragged him back, yanking him awake into the heart of the burning inferno, only for him to scream himself into another faint.

"The branding iron—it's back—it's everywhere—writing on my bones—! Hot hot hot hot make it stop! Hot make it stop! Hot make it—"

"Stop pouring—stop pouring fire on me—it's melting my guts—!"

 "Is this the hell-pit? The boiling tar pit? I fell in—I fell in—!"

 This cycle repeated—a horrifying rhythm of waking to searing torment and fleeing into black oblivion—until the initial chemical fury of the alcohol subsided into a deep, throbbing ache.

“Oh, quit your squalling, little baby. It’s alcohol, not dragon’s fire. Acting like I’m skinning you alive. It’s disinfectant, you weepy sack of meat. You’re covered in breeding pit filth and your own shit. You’d rather rot? Get gangrene? Have your stumps turn black and juicy while maggots picnic in your belly?"

She rolled her eyes as he let out another pitiful moan.

"You’d think I was pouring molten lead in your ears. It’s a cleaning. The only 'torture' here is having to listen to your whimper. This is just... hygiene. I'm doing you a favor here."

Suzuka took a clean pelt from her storage and dropped it over his shuddering, spent body. With that, she turned her back on him, walked to her bedroll by the fire, and lay down, closing her eyes as if she’d just taken out the trash.