Chapter 01 Dragged Back into the Light

Something had hold of me.

Hands—or claws. I couldn’t tell. I didn’t care.

My body scraped along the dirt, my head lolling uselessly from side to side. Tall grass cut at my face, but none of it mattered. I was empty now. Hollowed out. Whatever dragged me could finish the job. I wouldn’t fight it.

"Go on," I thought, "Get it over with. I got nothing left."

The cave mouth faded behind me, swallowed by tall grass. The stench still clung to me, soaked into my skin. My eyes stayed half-lidded. I didn’t scream. Didn’t struggle. Didn’t beg. There was no point.

Then—

“Gobby friend?! Wait! That you Hermit!? It HERMIT!”

I flinched.

Another voice followed, higher, cracked with disbelief.

“By the dirt—IT IS HIM! IT’S REALLY HIM! It's our Hermit!”

My body jolted. My heart stuttered, then slammed hard against my chest.

"Goblin voices…? Voices I know."

The dragging stopped. Hands gripped my shoulders and shook me.

“Hermit! Wake up! Say somethin’! Please!”

My eyes snapped open.

Above me—blurred by tears, dirt, and shock—were two faces I knew better than my own reflection.

Grub and Grill. Alive.

My mouth opened, but no sound came out. My throat burned. My vision warped as if the world itself was bending.

“…no. No… ain’t real… dis ain't real...”

Grub slapped my cheek—not hard, just enough to snap me back.

“Oi! Don’t you speak gibberish now! You felt my had slap your face, we are real!”

Grill dropped to his knees beside me, hands shaking as he grabbed my arms like I might vanish if he let go.

“We thought you were dead. We thought the monsters got you that day. When you didn’t come back—when we go to the forest—we thought—”

“We thought you were gone.”

My chest hitched. Air rushed in too fast, too sharp. My hands clenched into Grub’s dirty loincloth like a hatchling clinging to a leg.

“Grub... Grill... You… alive…?”

 “Barely most days, but yeah. We alive.”

Grill wiped his face with the back of his arm, smearing dirt and tears together. 

“We went for branches. Just branches. To make the cave stronger, remember? You told us not to go far. We didn’t. But you disappeared. We tried to look for you but found nothing.”

He swallowed hard.

“The forest. Blood everywhere. Monsters’ tracks. We thought they ate you. We searched for days, Hermit. DAYS!”

My heart twisted painfully.

“And then today, after all this time,” Grub added, “we see you—walking straight into that cursed nest like a forest spirit who forgot it was dead.”

I started shaking. Not from cold. Not from pain. From something worse. Something warm.

“I… I thought I was alone,” I whispered, “I thought… all gone. All of ‘em…”

Grill leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently to mine.

“You ain’t alone. Not while we’re breathin’.”

Behind us, the wind shifted. The grass whispered.

Grub’s ears twitched.

“We gotta move. Monsters’ll be back. And you look like you’re one bad breath away from droppin’ again.”

I didn’t resist when they lifted me—one on each side, my arms slung over their shoulders. My legs barely worked, but they adjusted without complaint, taking my weight like it was nothing.

As they half-carried, half-dragged me away from the cave, I looked back once.

Just once. Then I closed my eyes.

For the first time since everything ended… I didn’t want to die. I still had friends.

They moved fast.

They kept glancing over their shoulders, while half-dragging me through the tall grass. Every rustle made them flinch. Every shadow felt too close. My feet barely touched the ground.

------------------

Only when the grass grew thicker and the land started to rise—rockier, uneven—did Grub finally slow.

“We’re close. Just… keep breathin’, Hermit. Home is close.”

“…Grub. Grill… tell me. What happened… after I left.”

Grill’s jaw clenched. His ears flattened. Grub exhaled hard through his nose.

“Not long after you disappeared… the cave was still quiet. Too quiet. Hatchlings kept askin’ where you went. We told ‘em you’d be back. Told ‘em you were smart. Told ‘em you always came back.”

My chest tightened.

“Not long after, monsters found us. Heavy steps. Not evil goblins. Not wolves. They smelled it first. Blood. Life. Fear. Monsters don’t care what you are. Big. Small. Grown. Just meat. They broke into the cave before anyone could run. Didn’t hunt. Didn’t chase. Just tore.”

I shook my head weakly.

 “No… no, no—”

“We weren’t there. We were out scavengin’. If we were inside, we’d be dead too. That’s the only reason we’re standin’ here.”

“Hatchlings didn’t stand a chance," Grill whispered, "Didn’t matter if they were still soft or almost grown. Monsters don’t see kin. They don’t see family. They just slaughtered all of them. We heard ‘em. From the hill. Screams. Short ones. Too many.”

Silence fell between us except for our footsteps and my ragged breathing.

“We ran,” Grub said, “Ran like cowards. Didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. If we did… we’d be dead too.”

I couldn’t blame them. I was the biggest coward there is. I had no right to even have a thought like that. But the ache still burned.

“We hid till night. Then we went back. There wasn’t a home anymore. Just… ruin. Tracks everywhere. Nothing left to save. Only remains of the little ones. Couldn't even bury them, monster returned too fast. We had to run."

"I'm sorry, gobby friends. It's my fault, if only I didn't get lost in that forest."

“Hermit. Listen to me. You didn’t fail ‘em. Monsters would’ve come whether you were there or not. You saved ‘em from breeding farm. Gave 'em time. Gave ‘em warmth. Gave ‘em days they wouldn’t have had in that wretched place.”

Grill nodded. 

“They knew love. Knew warmth. Knew kindness, gentle touch. Had bellies full of food. That matters. It's not your fault, Hermit.”

------------------

We reached the rocky patch soon after. Tall grass ringed it like a curtain, hiding a rough opening dug into stubborn ground. Not pretty. Not deep. But hidden.

 Grub nodded toward a shadow at the base of the rocky rise—not a cave mouth, but a crack, disguised by a fall of scree and a stubborn, thorny bush.

“This way. Lift your feet. Almost there. Down you go. Mind your head."

Grub helped me inside. The cave was small, cramped, the floor uneven—but dry. Safe. Grub guided me after, and I stumbled into a short, descending tunnel. The air changed instantly—the musk of unwashed goblin bodies, the faint, unpleasant ammonia of waste, warm, damp, smelling of wet stone, and, faintly, of something like warm clay.

The tunnel opened into a cave of stone, dirt and root. The walls were a tapestry of knotted tree roots, woven together like a great basket, holding the ceiling aloft. Here and there, smooth river stones were pressed into the earth, forming a rough, uneven floor. Nooks and hollows were carved into the walls, some holding wrapped bundles of scavenged goods, others lined with dry grass and moss for sleeping.

A small, shielded fire came to life as Grub stirred the embers.

“We start livin' here after that,” Grill said, “We found this place good place. Hard to dig. But monsters don’t like rock.”

Grub leaned against the wall.

 “Met others, too. Not many. A few adults. Runaways. Broken like us. Slaves from breeding farms.”

“They’re good goblins,” Grill added quickly, “Like you. Like us.”

“Others… survived?”

“Yeah,” Grub said, “And we even laid eggs, they about to hatch too.”

My breath caught.

“Not many goblins in cave,” Grill said, “But some. Two sleepin’ now. Hidden deeper. Other two out there, looking for food.”

Tears slid down my face before I could stop them.

“…I thought there was nothin’ left,” I whispered.

 “Not nothin’. Just… less.”

Grill sat beside me, shoulder touching mine.

 “It ain’t great. Food’s thin. Fear’s always there. But it’s safe. For now.”

Two figures huddled by the fire shot to their feet. They were thinner than Grub and Grill, their green-grey skin pulled taut over sharp bones. 

“Snag. Fort.” Grill said, “Look who we found. It's Hermit! The one we told you about.”

The one on the left—Snag—had a torn ear that hung limply. He took a half-step forward, squinting.

 “That’s… Hermit? Good to meet you, gobby friend. Grill said you were dead. Said monsters got whole lot of you, up in the forest. Good to see you fine.”

Fort looked at the ground, his shoulders slumping.

"We are slaves, just like the rest of our kin. We come from a breeding farm. Adventurers. They… they cleared the big ones. The warriors. Destroyed the farm. Many slaves escaped. Me, Snag, a few others. Dozens of hatchlings. Precious. We… we loved ‘em. Then the adventurers left. Just… left, rode off. We thought we were free. Took the hatchlings and ran for the deep woods.”

He fell silent. The fire popped.

“Monsters found us on the next night. Not adventurers. Worse. They don’t want slaves. Just… meat. Ripped through the young ones first. We ran. Just me and Snag. Kept running till we found these two," He gestured vaguely at Grub and Grill, "digging this hole. Only ones we seen who weren’t trying to eat us or chain us up.”

Grill moved toward the deepest, darkest part of the cave, opposite the fire. 

“Come on, Hermit. Not all is bad. You need to see this.”

He knelt by the wall where the dirt was black and moist. A small, carefully arranged pile of wooden planks leaned against it. Grill lifted them away.

The smell intensified, that rich, ripe, living odor of goblin waist and heat. Beneath the planks was a hole in the ground, lined with a thick, steaming pile of leaf-litter, dung, and rotting vegetation. A goblin midden. A hatchery.

And nestled into the heart of that warm, decomposing embrace, were the eggs.

Six of them. They were slightly larger than a clenched fist. They pulsed with a gentle, captured warmth from the decomposition around them. Life, growing in the waste. Ready to hatch.

I couldn’t breathe. My knees buckled, and I caught myself on the cold dirt floor. Grill’s hand rested on my shoulder.

 “We keep the heat just right. Turn ‘em every few hours. Snag’s good at it. Has the touch. Soon, our family will grow. A new joy, a new reason to cling to life. A new hope for better tomorrow.”

I reached a trembling hand out, then stopped, my claws inches from the nearest green-speckled shell. I was covered in death. My touch felt like a contaminant.

“They so pretty... so precious... they’re… they’re real.”

“Aye,” Grub said from behind me, “The last of us. And the first of what comes next.”

I pulled my hand back, clenching it into a fist against my chest. The emptiness inside me didn’t fill, it had become a void, and at the bottom of it, glowing faintly in the dark, were six warm eggs. And the terrible, terrifying thought that I might have to live long enough to see them hatch.