Simel of Acheron—also called Simel the Survivor by those his ruling entailed—awoke from his deep sleep sometime in the early afternoon. He found himself inside a bedroom he had never seen before, with walls of yellowstone and furniture of thickreeds.

 

It was a simple room, one that in many ways resembled that of the inn he had resided in before their disastrous pursuit into the desert of ash. At that time, he had wanted to remain with his soldiers, sleeping in the simple tents on top of their simple mats. However, that would not do for a goblin of his class. Regardless, he had refused the more expensive inns their guide had suggested. Instead, he had chosen a simpler one, one he could remember his uncle suggesting many years ago, before he had been swallowed by a desert crawler. He had always been the explorer of the family. If, by the grace of the God of Endings, he saw Simel now, he must have been having quite a laugh.

 

The thought almost brought a smile to Simel’s cracked lips.

 

This bedroom was not like that of his inn, though. This room didn’t have a bed of wool, or a pillow of feathers, or a finely woven blanket. No plants decorated the windowsill, and the walls were mostly bare apart from a single tapestry. The moment his eyes fell on it, Simel froze where he sat half-righted in the bed. He almost wanted to step out of bed to get a closer look, but a twinge of pain in his feet killed any such thoughts. All he could do was to sit there, staring across the room, at the little hand-painted tapestry portraying a small family of four. Mother, father, daughter, son. Four.

 

By the standards of the upper kingdoms, having merely two children was almost unheard of. But Simel knew that things were different down here. Still, the sight of the tapestry did anything but calm him.

 

It should have brought him relief. He knew of only two explanations for it, and one of them—although equally despair-inducing—would still have been far preferable to the other.

 

But would he truly allow himself to hope that he had been rescued by a loving little family of four? That the demon plaguing his life had drawn its final breath in that desert, and that instead of dying a drake’s death beside it, Simel had been rescued? It was too good to be true. Not to mention that the other option would have been so much worse.

 

Slowly, Simel clasped his hands. By the grace of the God of Curiosity, I ask for strength in these trying times. I ask that my people are given solace in their times of weakness, and that the Emperor of the Sun should show mercy and benevolence towards myself and my people. So, too, do I ask that—

 

Footsteps. Simel’s thoughts jerked to an instant standstill as he froze atop the bed, hands still clasped, tighter and tighter as a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead.

 

Soft, gentle padding. Like that of a Paarthen wildcat. Almost inaudible, had Simel not recognised that sound more than he would his own mother’s voice.

 

In silent, wide-eyed terror, Simel turned towards the open doorway. It was dark out there in the hallway. Simply knowing that that creature was out there was enough to make that darkness all the deeper. In the brief stillness, that liminal moment before he once more came face-to-face with that Hoeksak, Simel let a tiny prayer shoot through his mind.

 

And then, the creature stepped out of the darkness and into the light.

 

For just a moment, it stood there, in the midway between the room and the corridor, staring inside with intense orbs of yellow and black. Its eyes, small and deformed, peered into the middle of the room. Not at Simel. Not at first. Only after a moment did its beasty eyes slide down, down to look him in the eye. Simel couldn’t repress the instinctual twitch or terror that ran through his body.

 

“Ah,” the creature said, “you’re awake!”

 

Its voice was a terrible thing. To any refined audiophile, its voice would have been an effective weapon. Nasal; neither high nor low but rather some horrible middle-thing. It cracked at times, suggesting to the scientifically inclined Simel that this creature, as ungoblic as it was, was not even a fully grown adult. Not to mention that no matter what it said, it never seemed to hold the slightest twinge of emotion which way. It spoke as though the world was a specimen to be observed and analytically commented on. The only times Simel had ever heard any true emotion in what that thing said were moments he would rather forget.

 

With those words, the creature’s face twisted, upper lip furling to show its horrible teeth in what might by itself be called a smile. Then, it lurched inside. Saying that it ‘walked’ would be an insult to all bipedal creatures under the grace of the Gods.

 

Its gangly, bone-like legs brought it closer.

 

Some childish instinct deep inside Simel’s mind wanted to try to move away, towards the window, away from that horrible thing. But adult logic spoke over—there is no escape. Mentally, he chanted that mantra, two, three times as the creature stalked up close enough to the bed to be able to kill or restrain Simel without having to step any closer. Even though it only had one arm, that would be enough. Simel had seen it tear apart creatures capable of taking out entire villages with one arm alone. A single goblin would be nothing.

 

His hand trembled as the creature looked down at him, eyes shining like starving fire, and he clenched his hands to keep himself still. Showing his fear did no good. Not to this creature of no pity. It was the same as surrendering to a bear. There is no escape.

 

For a moment, the creature stood there, hunched as it always was, eyes moving about erratically before finally settling on Simel once more. Not for the first time, Simel made note of how he could not hear the creature’s breathing.

 

It sat down. Tall as it was, it almost seemed comical where it sat in the chair. It made another facial expression. Simel couldn’t imagine what it was supposed to mean. He didn’t want to know, either.

 

“—So,” the creature said. Its face split into a sort of grin and its eyes flashed. “We made it!” Triumphantly, it raised its arm, its clawed, bone-like fingers spreading wide. When had its hand become reddened again? It was fresh. Fresh blood. Simel may only barely have been able to remember the past days, but he could recall this creature being able to make it two days without killing anything. Now, it had killed again.

 

Killer. Killer. Killer. Always killing. Horrible thing. Never before had Simel seen such death.

 

Its triumph not reciprocated, the creature slumped a little where it sat. “That is, we made it to the city. You know—the one you told me to bring you to? Yeah. We’re here! Great, huh?”

 

Although he hated to take his eyes off of this creature that killed without a moment’s hesitation, Simel turned to look out the window. He could see a street, and people, and houses. It was as the creature said—they had indeed arrived at Sandshore.

 

He turned to look back at the creature. It stared at him with eyes that begged for praise. Simel gave it nothing.

 

By the way it looked down and away, Simel could fairly assume it was disappointed.

 

“Well, uh…” The creature looked up again, into a patch of air, focusing on something that wasn’t there, its dark pupils moving back and forth as though reading. “Since it might, um, interest you, we were actually walking through that desert for almost exactly thirty days! Meaning that I am now on the fourteenth attempt.” Its thin, scabby eyebrows squashed together in thought and Simel let a prayer rattle through his mind, hoping that the creature wasn’t thinking of causing any more bloodshed. The creature burst into a smile. Simel’s heart dropped. “—That means it’s almost been a whole year since we first met! Isn’t that lovely?”

 

The words sent a shockwave of memories, each more horrible than the last, flying through Simel’s mind, all of them as burning and terrible as a four-winged dragon. Only a few memories weren’t scalding to touch, but all they did was bring to mind the bitterness he had felt so long ago. It had almost been a year since it all happened—since his world ended.

 

The creature smiled at him expectantly as it always did whenever it said anything. And, as always, Simel said nothing. Its smile twitched. “Of course, for now, we’re kind of stuck here. Oh, yeah, I should’ve…” Thinking of nothing and everything, the creature began to absently claw at the flesh of its thigh, tearing deep, gauging lines that spewed blood liberally. “See, you’re kind of… your feet are all messed up, and my arm still hasn’t fully grown back, so we’ll have to stay in this city for a little while. At least until you’ve recovered. ‘Cause, you know… I can make do with one arm, but you without feet would be pretty bad, I think.”

 

Stay in the city. Stay in a city. The killer of cities, in a city? Simel bristled.

 

He turned to look at the creature, hoping a fraction of the overwhelming emotions he felt could possibly be interpreted by the creature, that it may for once understand something that wasn’t itself.

 

The creature blinked at him. “What, you don’t want to stay?”

 

Simel clenched his hands into fists.

 

The creature’s little eyes squinted. “You don’t want… me to stay?” And then the eyes flared open and its face twisted again, like clay being reformed, and it made an expression like a jesting drake. “Oh, you don’t have to worry! I’m… Well, I mean…” It sunk back into thought. Simel couldn’t tell if he was breathing anymore. It sat there, relaxed, its eyes calm as it muttered to itself, “I mean, this is technically a floor, so… does this city count as part of it? The goblins have levels, so they should be enemies, which would mean that…” Simel could barely even hear its terrible words above the hammering of his own heart.

 

As casually as a farmer discussing the weather, it raised its eyes to Simel and said, in that terrible voice, “If we’re staying a while, I should have enough time to—”

 

Its jaw suddenly snapped shut. The sound startled Simel to the point of twitching. Now, it wasn’t looking at him anymore. It was looking at the empty air again, reading invisible words, its wax-pale forehead furrowing in thought. “It… I…” Its mouth closed again and its eyes gained focus, turning to Simel. “Sorry, but I just got a message from the God of Pain that I apparently don’t need to defeat every single enemy to completely clear this floor—just the relevant ones.” A smile. “So, uh, for now, you shouldn’t need to worry.”

 

Even hearing that, the panic still gripping Simel’s heart like a vice would not let go.

 

The creature absently scratched at some spot behind its head, then, when its hand returned red, licked off the blood. It glanced into the air once before returning its eyes to Simel. “By the way—great news! I’ve got food, and water, and whatever else you may want. Now, I don’t know exactly what you want—I still haven’t received any telepathy skill—but I’ll try to get what you need. As a matter of fact, I’ve currently got a pot of vegetable soup bubbling! And whenever we need more food, I can just go out and get more, easy peasy. I can probably find almost anything else as long as it’s inside the city borders, so if you just tell me what you want, I’ll get it for you. Anything.”

 

And it looked at him like that again. Like a drakeling wanting a treat for being such a good boy. Obedient. Simel didn’t have a single doubt in his mind that the creature was absolutely serious. And still, in the city, there was nothing he wanted. No physical item could fill the hole in his soul, nor could it complete the divine task he was set upon.

 

Deep inside his heart, spoken loud and clear through his eyes, as obvious as a cry, Simel thought, Please turn yourself in and let the due course of justice be done.

 

Please let the Goddess of Law judge your soul.

 

Please let the God of Truth lead Her hand just.

 

Please let the God of Repentance blind the eyes of the Goddess of Forgiveness.

 

And let the world find peace in your due penance—blood for blood.

 

But, of course, this blind creature of deaf cruelty, heard none of it.