Chapter 54

  Their laughter faded slowly as they approached the edge of the forest. The sound lingered between them, light and unexpected, and Riley realized how long it had been since she had allowed herself even that much ease. For weeks her thoughts had been sharp and strategic, always calculating, always anticipating the next crisis. The brief moment of levity felt almost foreign, like rediscovering a part of herself she had set aside.

  Ahead, the trees thinned and the faint outline of the village came into view through the branches. Smoke rose from low chimneys, pale against the darkening sky. Riley’s smile faded as her focus returned.

  “Stay here for now,” she said quietly to Thorne. “Just inside the tree line. I do not want to alarm them. Let me test the waters first.”

  Thorne gave a single nod and stepped back into the shadow of the forest, his frame disappearing into the undergrowth despite his size.

  He did not like leaving Riley to walk into the village alone, even if she had done so before. Fear had a way of turning neighbors into threats.

  From where he stood, he could see the rooftops through the trees. It was close. Close enough to watch. Not close enough to reach her quickly if something broke the wrong way.

  His hand settled lightly on the sword’s hilt at his side.

  Riley drew a steadying breath and walked alone toward the village.

  The reception was colder than she remembered.

  Conversations faltered as she crossed into the open space. Faces turned, but no one approached. A few villagers shifted subtly, placing space between themselves and her path. The memory of her last visit still lingered in the air, but something else hung heavier now. Fear had settled deeper here.

  Tama emerged from one of the huts, wiping her hands on her apron. She stopped a few paces away from Riley, her expression guarded.

  Mali stood further back among the others, half hidden behind an older woman’s skirt. The little girl clutched the doll Riley had made for her, its stitched smile slightly crooked from wear. Mali’s wide eyes met Riley’s briefly before darting away, her small fingers tightening around the fabric.

  “What has happened?” Riley asked softly.

  Tama’s jaw tightened. She did not lower her voice.

  “The Clawborn came again,” she said. “They demanded more, wood, food and ore.”

  A murmur rippled through the growing crowd.

  “And when one of us tried to explain that we had nothing left to give,” Tama continued, her voice thinning despite her effort to keep it steady, “they took his head.”

  Riley felt her stomach drop.

  “In front of his wife. In front of his children. They have never gone this far before.”

  Silence pressed in around them. Riley’s gaze moved slowly across the gathered faces. Grief. Anger. Exhaustion. No one looked surprised by what had happened. That was what unsettled her most.

  More villagers edged closer now, drawn into the gravity of the conversation. Riley could feel their eyes on her, weighing her presence against their fear.

  “I did not know,” Riley said, and the horror in her voice was not feigned. “I should have come sooner.”

  No one responded.

  Riley steadied herself and spoke louder, ensuring everyone could hear.

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  “I cannot undo what was done,” she said. “But I can offer you another path. Come with me. Leave this place. I have built something to the south. It is not perfect, and it is not yet strong enough, but it is growing. There is protection there. There is purpose.”

  She avoided the word that hovered on her tongue. Kingdom felt too grand, too abstract for people who had just watched one of their own die in the dirt.

  “Come to my village,” she said instead. “Let me help you build something that does not kneel to fear.”

  The villagers stood in a tight circle around her, their silence thick with uncertainty as they considered her words.

  The silence fractured.

  “Why should we trust you?” a man shouted from somewhere near the back. His voice carried sharp and brittle across the square. “Things have only gotten worse since you came here.”

  Murmurs of agreement followed, low and uneasy.

  “That is not fair,” another voice cut in, a woman stepping forward with her arms folded tight across her chest. “The Clawborn have been raising quotas long before she arrived.”

  “Yes,” a third voice answered, louder now. “But they have never murdered someone without provocation. This is different.”

  The words sparked something volatile. Accusations overlapped with defenses. People turned on one another in small clusters, voices rising as fear and grief spilled over. Some pointed toward Riley. Others argued back, insisting she had offered help when no one else had. The square filled with noise, not unified but fractured, each person speaking from their own wound.

  Riley stood at the center of it, the weight of their anger and confusion pressing in from all sides. She opened her mouth to respond, but her voice would have been swallowed by the argument. The crowd had moved beyond listening. They were wrestling with something larger than her, and she could feel control slipping from the moment.

  At the edge of the forest, Thorne watched the unrest with growing unease. The rise and fall of voices carried clearly through the trees, sharp enough to make his hand drift toward the hilt at his side. He had seen gatherings turn dangerous before, had watched fear turn into senseless violence.

  Then something else tugged at his awareness.

  His brow furrowed. Even with the villagers arguing in the background, Thorne's hunter instincts could block the noise and isolate this. Beneath their clamor another sound threaded through the underbrush. It was a faint rustle, low to the ground and deliberate. It bore no resemblance to the wind stirring the leaves. Its rhythm felt wrong, out of step with the forest's natural cadence.

  A heavier shift of weight, deliberate and slow. Thorne turned his head slightly, narrowing his gaze toward the darker stretch of forest to his right.

  He stepped away from the tree line, moving quietly between trunks, letting the voices in the village fade behind him as he followed the disturbance.

  Not far off, just inside the forest’s edge, a young girl knelt among the low growth. The gathering party had drifted back toward the village when the shouting began, but she had remained behind, intent on filling her basket. She hummed softly to herself, a small tune that wove through the still air as her fingers plucked leaves and stems with careful attention.

  Her basket rested beside her knee, already half full of herbs. She did not look up.

  She did not see the movement in the brush behind her.

  A massive shape shifted between the trees, its thick shoulders brushing low branches aside. Coarse fur the color of dark stone blended with shadow. Curved horns caught a faint glint of light as the creature lowered its head.

  ? Goliath Goat level 1

  The beast exhaled, steam curling from its nostrils as it fixed its gaze on the small figure kneeling in the leaves.

  The Goliath Goat stepped fully into view, and the forest seemed to shrink around it.

  It loomed massive and broad, dwarfing any natural goat with a hulking, muscle bound frame that rolled beneath its hide with each measured step. Thick black and gray fur hung in heavy, matted clumps along its shoulders and flanks, crusted with dried blood and streaked with dark forest grime. Its spiraling horns swept forward from its skull in brutal arcs, the ridges chipped and scarred from countless collisions. Dull orange eyes burned beneath a heavy brow, fixed and unblinking as they tracked the girl’s smallest movements. Its wide mouth parted slightly, revealing uneven rows of sharp, dark stained teeth, the edges still crusted from recent kills. Each powerful leg ended in a broad cloven hoof that crushed roots and splintered stones without effort. It advanced without haste, without hesitation, as though nothing in the forest had ever forced it to retreat.

  The girl continued humming, unaware that death closed the distance one deliberate step at a time.

  Behind a boulder a few meters away, Thorne watched.

  He had tracked the creature’s movement through the brush and positioned himself carefully, waiting for the right moment. He was upwind of the beast, the wind carrying his scent safely away so it remained undetected. Thorne moved silently with a hunter’s practiced step.

  The Goliath Goat lowered its head slightly, muscles tightening along its shoulders as it prepared to lunge.

  Its hooves shifted and scraped against loose gravel.

  The girl paused mid note, her humming faltering as she turned her head toward the sound.

  Too late.

  The goat exploded forward, tearing up earth as it charged.

  Thorne moved at the same instant, blade flashing as he launched from behind the boulder.

  For one suspended heartbeat, all three converged in the same narrow stretch of clearing.

  Steel.

  Horns.

  A scream.

  And then the forest swallowed the sound.

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