《Myosotis》


 Seron the Scribbler

    Introduction


    My name is Seron, Seron the Scribbler as people call me. I will tell you about a side of the war that is yet to make the light of day. For reasons I cannot speak of, I will not give my family name. However, that I believe to be irrelevant to the retelling of the story, as this story pertains to a gruesome history that has been hidden from us for a long period of time.


    I recognize that by releasing this story in great detail, as it¡¯s been retold to me, I¡¯m exposing myself to various, dangerous factors. First would be my reputation, as this is not coming directly from the original source, but via another individual, which for this story we¡¯ll call Robin. That, I do not mind, as I believe him to have told me the whole truth, even though it won¡¯t seem so at first. If you trust my words to be true though, then you may agree with me that this has to be true, at least in some capacity.


    What I fear most, is what people in power may do to me or those associated with me (thus why I will not reveal Robin¡¯s real name either). As you may know already, my reputation hangs on the fact that my stories are as real as they can be, and tell truths that no one bothered digging for or tried hiding. So, if what¡¯s being told in Robin¡¯s story proves to be true, then I¡¯m afraid this could very well be my last story as a journalist.


    I am, however, content. I¡¯m only releasing this story now because I was able to live my life and ensure that those involved can no longer be tracked down, as this story may expose their original whereabouts. I consider it to be my greatest work to date, and that it will ever be, it will also be my last work as a journalist. Treasure it if you will, despise it if you want, or discard it as you wish, I am content.


    Without further ado, here is the story of an old war, told from the perspective of someone most involved in it: a goblin.


    Goblin Sickness


    The story begins with me travelling through Fenoa. Most people know this country nowadays as a peaceful haven, one which has seen the most of war, yet seems to also have forgotten all of it.


    I¡¯ve been gathering various stories from around the places. Most people didn¡¯t have anything interesting to say, as their days were lived in quiet and peace. The most they had to say were things about bears or something they confused for a monster, but some of them, particularly in the most northern and colder region, had what I considered good stories.


    One such story was about an illness going around. Not many people were afflicted by it, and even if they were, nothing grave happened. However, there were a small number of people who would die from it, but before they did, they would apparently see something. It wasn¡¯t quite clear what that something was, and no one gave a good answer to it, so I was thinking it might just be another one of their myths.


    Then, I was able to see one such person as it happened to them. It was unfortunate at the time that I had only arrived as they were halfway passing out. But the little I heard from them intrigued me. ¡°Goblins!¡± the dying man screamed, looking terrified by something above him while lying in his bed, although nothing was there to be seen.


    The word itself is what intrigued me most, ¡°goblin¡±, some fifty years ago the word hadn¡¯t been spoken once for a long time, as no such thing had been seen for more than eighty years, around the time the war had ended.


    So I started looking deeper, wanting to know more. First I had to understand the history of the country better, what were their relations with the so called ¡®magical beasts¡¯. These creatures of old that are said to have been born from magic. Both concepts were foreign at the time for me, magical beasts and magic itself. But as you can tell by reading, I¡¯ve grown accustomed to it at some point.


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    That point was when I stumbled across an old book in a library from Leyo, a small town near the centre of the country. There I discovered that, while the illness taking over the man was similar, it wasn¡¯t the same as that affecting the others. It had similar symptoms: coughing, fever, swollen feet and fingertips. But the difference stood in their eyes, their colour changing to an unnatural yellow or green of sorts. I was reluctant to try reaching back and see if the man had the same symptoms.


    Part of me wanted to know more, while my gut was telling me there¡¯s business I shouldn¡¯t meddle with, and this was later proven to be true.


    Even so, I reached back, and as you may have guessed, it confirmed. I haven¡¯t even mentioned the colour. The man should¡¯ve had black eyes, but instead they said it was a dirty yellow. The book said that the only way to get in touch with such a disease, would be by ingesting a goblin¡¯s blood.


    I¡¯ve read more books on diseases, asked physicians from all around the country, and while on one side I didn¡¯t get anything, on the other the same was affirmed.


    One thing I found strange at the time, was the fact that there weren¡¯t many books documenting such things. Even when I reported and mentioned this to various people from around Fenoa, nothing came of it. What was even more troublesome to me, was that even in our own country, Molavia, nothing came of it, or rather, they didn¡¯t want me to know anything about it.


    At that point, I was starting to feel that sinking feeling in my stomach, that I was poking a bee¡¯s nest, and I was about to get stung for it. However, as I was still young and foolish at the time, and feeling that that was my purpose in all of this, to find out the truth, I pushed forward.


    Even though there was no more information on it, and I knew that someone was bound to follow me soon enough, as I wasn¡¯t careful about me asking around, there were still the people who got sick. If I followed that trail, then it could only lead me to one place: where the goblin was at. To have spottings of such a creature would cause an uproar from the general public, let alone having a living, breathing goblin walking around and making people sick.


    First thing I did was: go back to the person who died from it. I was thinking maybe there was someone who held the goblin captive and was poisoning people with its blood. It was far-fetched considering that this was happening to random people from random places, but it made more sense than a goblin just going around, spilling its blood into people¡¯s mouths at night.


    I first started asking some questions to the family, pretending to be some higher authority that I wasn¡¯t in order to get them to talk. There were no mentions of people that would have ill intentions of him, or that he could¡¯ve struck some deal and such. What they did say, however, was that one night he travelled through the forest, coming back from cutting some wood. He had the symptoms back then, the coughing and soon fever that developed into something more. The only thing they remember him saying was that ¡°I forgot where I was for a moment, and my hatched was all bloody for no reason.¡±.


    The hatchet became a priority for me, wanting to see if there was any blood left on it. However, they buried him with it, as it was the one thing he valued most and was proud to swing. The thought of digging up his body did cross my mind, but besides the immense disrespect that would bring to him, it wasn¡¯t like I could tell if the blood was that of a goblin. The book presenting the disease only spoke generally of the disease, never going into great detail. But at least I had a better understanding, or so I thought at the time.


    I then followed the trail of deaths. The disease, which was more of a poison, started the same day a victim would fall prey to it, then it would linger for at least a month, after which it would move to the final phase, killing its victim. So all I had to do was gather information in regards to the other illness and see which people talked about it lingering more than usual.


    It was hard at first, people around the northern region were a bit more secluded and didn¡¯t speak much. Still, I managed, and I finally arrived at the second turning point of my journey.


    I was in a village, the name I won¡¯t mention, where I followed what I believed to be the oldest death to date, going back more than ten years. Something that bothered was that, even with the limited information on goblins, it was clearly known that a goblin couldn¡¯t live more than two years, most dying before that. So I was thinking I was about to stumble across a nest of them. That thought changed my pursuit into something different, as I was no longer after one small creature terrorising villages and towns from all around, but a group of creatures that could have long gotten out of hand and could put the whole country at risk.


    Before I was to make such conclusions, I had to ensure there was some chance of it. People from Fenoa, for all I knew, were the ones keeping the goblin population in check, if there was one. I also found it kind of odd and irritating that all the victims conveniently just forgot their trips into the forests.


    It all started to be strange and I grew suspicious of the ones in power of the country, more so than before. Although I was thinking chances were high to be caught and killed, I still had safety spots to retreat to in case worse came about.


    With that, I knew there was no more turning back from it. I was to learn the truth, no matter how ugly it was. In retrospect, I severely overestimated my ability to handle the truth, as it still haunts me to this day.

 Robin the Hunter

    I was back in Leyo, searching for some more information about goblins and encounters with them. There were also boards where people could post seeking help, I always checked them as families of those afflicted by the goblin sickness would try to reach out to others in hopes of getting help. What I noticed was that someone during night time came around and took those posters down.


    By that time, of course, I figured those must be the authorities, wanting to keep anything from getting out there and causing an uproar. Further confirmed by the fact that when I went to families of victims from the illness, they told me no one came to help, even though the posters were taken down.


    The day I returned to Leyo, I saw one such poster. It was night by the time I arrived, so it was just in the nick of time. I took the poster down myself, as I already knew what fate was to come of it. I first had to account for the possibility that someone posted it to lure me out and catch me.


    Given my vast experience, even at that young age, I could tell quite easily when these were just bait. I wasn¡¯t someone of high interest, so the writing of the authorities releasing such things wasn¡¯t different from their normal one, thus I was able to discern their more educated writing.


    The person who wrote it, as you later will know him as Robin, had all the nuances of a young, not so educated but still knowledgeable man. While the writing was rough, the details he offered about the illness afflicting his mother were quite on point, and I was getting a sense of who he was. Thus, I decided that I won¡¯t linger around and head straight for his home once prepared.


    The journey would take me quite a few days, as he was in the most northern regions. Besides the gear I would require, it was also an issue of making sense of where he was living. His house wasn¡¯t built in a town or village, but in the depths of a forest. The forest was also near the place where the oldest death occurred.


    Once the next morning came around, I strapped on my bag. I was afraid that I could get captured or killed during my journey, so I took the precaution of sending my personal one back into Molavia to my dear wife. It contained all the information discussed so far, as well as all my fears and such I had of the ones in power.


    Making peace with the fact that I may die, I went onwards, to where I would eventually meet Robin.


    Then I arrived there, some days later. And the last chance I had to turn my back and return home was in a small, shabby town at the edge of the forest I was about to enter. It wasn¡¯t as if I knew what would follow, but what I had done prior, made it feel that way. Maybe it was fate or tied to magic itself, I just could tell at the time the road forward led to the truth.


    The One Who Held The Truth


    This part of the story only concerns Robin¡¯s side of things. So, as such, I will tell it directly as I wrote it from his mouth. The parts until our meeting were added after, as I started to write only after some time we met.


    Robin¡¯s Mom


    The night my mom fell unconscious was like a gut punch to me. It was the same day my wife told me she was pregnant, so you can imagine how happy I was beforehand. It was a great feeling, one I can only describe as pure jubilation. My father, who with my mother was living in the same house, congratulated me, then quickly set his gaze upon the forest. He knew my mother best, and seeing as she didn¡¯t return from her morning mushroom gathering, being afternoon when the news came about, set him to go out and find her. I tried to persuade him, tell him that I would go, but he insisted he was the only one who could find her, and he took pride in it too.


    My mom wasn¡¯t like any other woman. She braved the wilds like no other and went into places most would avoid, let alone dare to set foot into. Even my father, a hunter like me, would get lost trying to trace my mother. But it was for that reason they fell in love with each other. He would get lost trying to find her, and when he did, he then found her stuck in a place only he could get her out of. So I was sure he would find her like usual and bring her home, where I could have a big surprise for her on an otherwise normal day.


    However, night started to come about, and my father was still out there. I was worried of course. Some bear standing between them and our house was something I thought of. My father, although he could not kill bears like he once did, he could still handle them, that I was sure of. But anything could happen, and my wife knew I wanted to go, so she gave me reassurance I can leave her alone with a kiss on the cheek, and a whisper of goodbye in my ear. It was a position I hated to be in, but I had no choice. So I strapped my bow, sheathed my sword and disguised myself with my bear cape, and into the forest I went.


    Dusk for me meant a good time to return from a hunt,but not then, then it was to find my parents. It took me a while to trace back my father. Not only due to the setting night and his habits of hiding his tracks, but everything going in my mind too. I kept pushing forward, getting deeper and deeper into the forest. There were parts of it which I had to avoid as well, even though that¡¯s where I lived all my life. It¡¯s like they say ¡°Don¡¯t poke the sleeping bear¡±, in my case that would¡¯ve been going to the Old Tree or the Pool, there was the Uneven Hill as well, that I avoided at all cost. But unfortunately not that time, as the tracks led to there.


    My mother knew of it as well, so it didn¡¯t make sense why she would go in there, and from the footprints that were picking up speed, I could tell my father was thinking the same. If she went that way, one of the beasts could have gotten her.


    And a beast yes, not an animal no, something more. Something darker and fiercer, thirsting for blood and hungering for flesh without reason or instinct, just something imprinted on them. That¡¯s what most people referred to as ¡®magical beasts¡¯, and although I haven¡¯t seen one in my entire life, my father¡¯s word was enough reason to keep me at bay.


    For most common folk that notion would sound childish or stupid, but not to us forest folk, who knew what the step of a bear sounded like and how the smell of fearing prey is, and how everything worked in a forest. My father was sure such things were there because the usual didn¡¯t apply to them. You couldn¡¯t smell them, nor hear them in the dark, and whenever you would think you traced one, it was to only lure you deeper into their own feeding grounds. Thus his fear, and through him, mine.


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    My step then got faster as well, but I had to keep my breathing steady, hide my tracks as I went. Every precaution I learned and painstakingly got punished for not abiding by, I took them. If my father got lured into a trap by such a beast, then it worked, as his footprints were visible, so I couldn''t let myself be lured in as well. You can imagine how hard that was for me, but I couldn¡¯t call myself a hunter without that calm of mind, no one could. The one excuse I could give my father was that: I would do the same had my wife been there instead. Probably worse than him to be honest, but still, no way for a hunter to behave, and that¡¯s how we trained each other.


    The words I was thinking to reprimand my father with, believing him to be fine, faded once I stopped before a glade. My father held mom with gentle, trembling hands, both of them on the ground, one fearful, one silent and asleep. I quickly joined his side, holding mom to see what was wrong, not even thinking of asking questions. ¡°Speak Robin¡± my father said, knowing we couldn¡¯t keep the silence, barely hiding his own fears.


    I asked right away what was wrong, why was she unconscious. He then responded in his usual sarcastic, but painful at that time, voice ¡°The forest sickness she got, remember? Word is out that some get worse.¡±. I knew of it of course, just didn¡¯t know it could do such a thing, and the same I said to him. ¡°It doesn¡¯t no, this is something else,¡± as he said that, he peeled mom¡¯s eyelids back, ¡°look at her eyes. They¡¯re green.¡±. I wanted to know what would happen next, my father looking as if he knew or at least heard of it.


    So I didn¡¯t need to know much more. There was something wrong with her, gravely so for my father to act that way, and I wasn¡¯t acquainted with the illness. So I picked her up, my father almost jumping at me for it, forgetting for a moment I was his son and there to help him. Should¡¯ve warned him in retrospect, but still, we hurried back home, wrapping her gentle body in my bear cape.


    Something like that never happened to us. If there was an illness, I knew of it, and if I didn¡¯t, my father did. For both of us to not know what was going on with my mother, made our minds lock away from the outside to allow us to focus on getting her to safety. My father¡¯s senses only came back to him due to me obviously being a bit too emotional about it.


    The one thing that stuck to me from that night was how beautiful my mother¡¯s golden hair looked when enveloped by the dark fur. It was as if I was holding a great treasure, that at the same time was sinking in a deep darkness. It made me forget for a while about my father, who was struggling to keep the pace with me, telling me to stop worrying all the way home, but never to stop running.


    By the time I was back home, the night of the forest completely surrounded us together with its usual chill. I found my wife safe and sound, and she immediately started to prepare a place by the fire for my mother when she saw us, no words were needed.


    After taking it all in for a few moments, my wife asked me about what happened, and I told her. Then I switched my attention to my father, who held her hand tight by the fire. And for the first time in my life, I saw him crying. Eventually he told me, what I didn¡¯t think I would hear, ¡°She¡¯s dying Robin. This is not the same forest illness,¡± he said in a grave, deep tone. ¡°I only saw such a thing when I was still a young¡¯un, challenging the forest and running around like a wild animal. I never told you, why would I? No one even believed me at the time.¡±.


    My father proceeded to tell me how he found this other hunter in the forest, his eyes crazed by something. The word goblin apparently came out of his mouth, which for the time of my father, it was a scary story to put kids asleep with. So when he tried convincing others of what he saw, it obviously didn¡¯t seem much more than a hunter¡¯s story to gain reputation. ¡°But now it spreads around for some reason. A few people in the past years near us, then I heard word of it down the river too,¡± he was speaking of the village we were near, ¡°whatever is causing this, it now got your mother.¡±. I didn¡¯t persuade him further, he obviously thought mom would die, and I didn¡¯t believe he was just giving up on her, it was just a matter of fact to him.


    To me, however, not so much. No one seemed to really understand what his illness was all about, and since that was the case, my job seemed quite simple at first: find the cause of it. If I could, the next step would just be finding a cure in a timely manner.


    Only my wife could sleep that night, I basically forced her to so at least someone could have a clear mind in the morning. Meanwhile me and my father talked of our next steps, while also trying to give him some hope we may be able to still help mom. So we decided that we should spread the word around, send posters and letters to people from around Fenoa. Then, if no response came in around a week, I would venture into the parts I was taught to avoid at all costs. My father wasn¡¯t entranced by the idea, obviously, especially since I was still of second rank as a hunter, but we had no choice. He told me of what he knew, and in about a month or so, the illness would drive my mother crazy, shortly after dying.


    Thus I believed two weeks is the most she can survive with whatever poison is in her body, then it would be irreversible. Although my father still had his reservations for me to try such a thing, it was only a matter of time until it happened, and he knew it best, as we both felt ready to do it then and there, let alone wait one hour longer.


    Once morning came by, I gave my wife the words to put on the posters, and went with her in the village to mail them around the country. Then the wait began, which felt like forever with each passing day. We had a couple of, what I later got know as, officials from the inner state. They told me to keep quiet about the visit, and just tell them everything I knew, which I did. It was three days after they left and a whole week after releasing those posters that I had enough.


    Both my wife and father could tell I no longer had the patience. My father, in a way I could tell, was glad I would go for it. It was that glimmer of hope that made him forget about my own safety, but I couldn¡¯t blame him for it. Had we been in different positions, I¡¯d want the same from him. So there were no words needed, as I was steeling my resolve to journey into the darker places of the forest.


    The forest we lived inside was rather large. A range of mountains ran at the very north of it, some three kilometres from our house, so there would be a river running not too far from us, and long, spread portions of land covered solely by trees. The darker sides laid further north west and east from our house. But the part which my mom explored was actually down south east, the river separating the side on which the Uneven Hill was at, and the side we lived on.


    ¡°Be safe son,¡± my father told me, fixing my clothes as if I was still a kid, making sure everything was ready. ¡°And don¡¯t forget, if you hear something ahead, always look to the sides. They know how to lure us.¡±. His advice made my heart tremble a little. As a hunter you never kill two things: humans and beasts. One is obvious, the other you simply don¡¯t meet face to face with. The thought of me meeting with such a creature sent cold shivers down my spine. It was then I was glad for my wife, who hugged my arm tightly and washed those worries away. She was stronger than she looked, and my father could only smile proudly from a distance with teary eyes. I knew what that must¡¯ve reminded him of, so I didn¡¯t want him to think too much about it, he needed to defend the house, and emotions had no place in that.


    We both knew that one dangerous thing about animals, if left alive, is their spite they develop for you. Bears, for example, as intelligent as they are, can be just as spiteful when you leave bad memories for them. And it¡¯s our saying that ¡°A half dead stag will grow antlers to one day kill you.¡±. That¡¯s why we always kill what we hunt, especially if it¡¯s a predator. With beasts, we didn¡¯t know what to expect. But if they were smarter than whatever other animal wandered the forest, then it wasn¡¯t outside our expectations for it to come and try gaining vengeance some other way as well.


    With that being said, I sheath my sword to the side, placed the cape on my shoulders., the bow on top of it, feeling the weight of the weapons and that which I killed with them. Then my leather backpack, strapped tightly to my back with only bread and some vegetables from around the east side of the forest. I also wore my hat, since this was a proper hunt, then the silver bracelet around my right arm, to remind me of my wife when in doubt.


    Unconstrained by fears and doubt, I left my home. Heart in my grasp, mind opened to surroundings and soul burning with determination.

 Riza the Goblin

    ¡°Ranks for a hunter serve as a harsh reminder of what you¡¯re capable of. Not something to boast about, but to keep your mind sharp for what you can kill, and your body steady for when you meet what you can¡¯t.¡±. I recall my father teaching me those words. It was during my hunt for a stag to earn my rank as a hunter. It was the third rank, which, once earned, meant I was capable enough to survive in the forest by myself.


    The second rank, which I had at the time of that ¡®hunt¡¯, meant I could survive a bear attack without scratch. The first rank, only a few hunters possessing it, meant you could kill a bear without a scratch. However, in older times, there were more ranks assigned to hunters, as magical beasts supposedly existed during that time. Due to my lineage, my father knew of the one above first, two more apparently existing as well, but not much was known about them, not even their names. The name of it was: beast hunters. Quite fitting for them of course. They were once something most living in the forest would aspire for, dream of every slept and waking moment of their life. And the condition to earn the rank was quite simple: kill a magical beast.


    The reason, however, due to my father for example not even once attempting such a thing, was due to lost knowledge. For us, hunters, knowledge was the same thing as a bow or sword, a tool which allowed you to hunt properly without the risk of dying. So not having any knowledge which our ancestors had on magical beasts and the like, meant we should avoid these darker parts of the forest. Whether it was true or not that a magical beast rested in one of these regions, there was no reason to test such things unless you had a death wish.


    With that being said, what I did was just that, a suicidal mission. Each rank for a hunter wasn¡¯t just a step above, it was a whole world apart from the one prior. And I was two behind the required one. However, that didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t capable of surviving, merely unable to kill a magical beast. At that time, by rank alone, I would¡¯ve been unable to even survive an encounter. But both me and my father knew I was more than capable of killing a bear without issue, I just didn¡¯t have my chance. If I were like him, without a wife and soon to be father, when he hunted his bear, we were confident I would have earned my first rank.


    Even so, it wasn¡¯t like I was confident I could survive, it was more of a coping line of thought in order to not fear what was ahead. That¡¯s what I was thinking while resting under the roots of an old tree. The tree marked the end of what we considered a safe distance away from the Uneven Hill. Then I would only have to pass the river and, once again, I would be on that side, where me and my father found mom. It was also getting dark outside, as we decided this must be some day creature that sleeps its nights. Our reasoning was merely based on the fact that mom probably got over there around noon, drawn by who knows what. It wasn¡¯t wrong to think that way, it just proved wrong later due to unlikely circumstances.


    The last things I remember were that and me looking through my supplies, hearing something in the woods, and then crossing the river. After which I only knew I was walking for a while back home, still night at the time, although I would then find out a whole day had passed. For some reason, until I sat down by the side of the road leading back, no thoughts had passed through my head, it felt as if I was just returning from a hunt.


    But once I sat down, I was confused, lost to why I was there to begin with. I checked my supplies, and I had more food that before, my sword was missing too, ¡°I should¡¯ve noticed¡± is what I thought at the time. It wasn¡¯t in my nature not to notice such things, yet there I was, completely unaware of everything.


    It took me more than an hour or so until I regained all senses and my awareness was back into its place. But still, I couldn¡¯t remember what I was doing out in the forest, why my sword was missing and why I could recall having more food than before and how I should¡¯ve had less.


    Paralysed by thoughts, the one who broke me out of it was a stranger, hard to see due to the night, wandering the forest like a lost child. He had even footing but didn¡¯t know his way around, so I could tell at a glance he was used to travel but not through my forest. A rule for hunters was not to kill humans, but because of my condition, I grabbed my bow and placed an arrow loosely between my fingers. It was so I could give the stranger the message, not to approach me, but that they may pass if that¡¯s what they wanted.


    However, despite my obvious warning, the stranger still came closer. Not brazenly, but cautious with their hand on a shortsword that was slightly pulled, a warning from their side too. Once the stranger came closer, I told them to ¡°Speak of your business.¡±.


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    The soft voice of a man responded to me ¡°I came here due to word that a woman has been afflicted by an unknown illness.¡±. His words sparked my memory, in an instant I could remember the reason I was there. Panicked, I raised in an instant at the thought of it, the man pulling out his shortsword. There was something he feared, and it wasn¡¯t due to me holding my bow I could tell. ¡°Have I been drawn into a trap?¡± I didn¡¯t know what he was speaking of as he looked around, panic enveloping him as well.


    ¡°Oh no, don¡¯t fear. If I were to have laid a trap, one like you would¡¯ve been long gone by now,¡± I humoured myself. The man seemed to ponder my words and think of what I said, as if there was hidden meaning behind them, or perhaps to search for it. ¡°Come now, sit,¡± I told him, standing back down myself, ¡°if you were truly led into a trap, then it is too late to struggle right?¡±. My jokes obviously didn¡¯t reach him quite well, as he was still being cautious, albeit something seemed to have earned me a bit of his trust.


    And even though I myself was panicked at the thought that I had forgotten the hunt I was set upon, just like I was taught, the calm of mind had to be maintained. The stranger presenting himself to me alone, asking about my mother, was something that piqued my interest. So I had to see what that was about before returning to the hunt.


    ¡°I suppose you are right,¡± he said, tucking back his sword and patting his chest, as if to shake the fear. ¡°Then let us formally introduce ourselves more properly,¡± the way he spoke was funny to me, it reminded me of the city folk I saw a long time prior. ¡°My name is Seron, people call me Seron the Scribbler, and I gather information.¡±. The man leaned over, allowing me to see his hat that had a blue feather to the left side. I knew of these people, they were called journalists. He then came closer, allowing me see him better.


    ¡°Ah, yes, I see. You are one of those that sit at a desk and write stories right?¡± I was still trying to break the tension with some humour, and that one seemed to have done its effect as he seemed a bit offended.


    ¡°Maybe some do sure, well, most do if I think about it. But not me! I wander the lands, reach out to people and bring the truth to the masses,¡± the man seemed quite prideful to me, although it didn¡¯t feel like he was lying, which intrigued me. ¡°Now say, by what you wear, you must be a hunter right?¡± he pointed at my hat, ¡°I don¡¯t know how the ranks work here, but you seemed quite experienced.¡±.


    ¡°Work here? I believe it¡¯s the same as anywhere else in Fenoa,¡± my answer brought a slight smile on his face, the kind that people have when they know something you don¡¯t, which he then hid as quickly as he could. ¡°Introductions aside, you are here because of a woman afflicted by some sickness you said.¡±. His face brightened, he could tell I had information on it.


    ¡°Yes! Yes, I would very much like to meet this woman,¡± for a moment he seemed to have forgotten that fear he had for me and took a step closer. ¡°I was getting a bit lost through the forest, as you could probably tell, but I am heading to the house of one named Robin. Perhaps you can lead me there, and maybe even introduce me to him, I wouldn¡¯t like to make the wrong impressions.¡±. The man made me forget about my worries for a moment, his cluelessness amused me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where you come from, Seron, but in Fenoa it is quite well known that there can only be one family of hunters in a forest,¡± he showed confusion on his face for a moment, which then turned into realisation. ¡°So, which people are you speaking of? That call you Seron the Scribbler? Since I never heard of one such as you around.¡±.


    The man knew he couldn¡¯t hide behind his well spoken language and manners any longer. So he switched back to his more natural demeanour, that of a Molavian. ¡°You were right,¡± he said as he stood down a short distance from me, ¡°once caught in a trap, no reason to struggle right?¡±. I was glad we could come to more even terms, ¡°But this doesn¡¯t feel like a trap. If I am to guess, you¡¯re not one of them right?¡±.


    I obviously raised an eyebrow to that, ¡°The authorities. They try hiding this illness that afflicts people, more so than before. And I¡¯m here to find the truth about it, perhaps even a cure to help others.¡±.


    ¡°The truth? Well now that¡¯s something,¡± I told him, to which he looked at me puzzled, ¡°I was just on my way to find as much.¡±. I pointed to him in the direction I came from, towards the Uneven Hill. ¡°I found my mom lying unconscious over that river, in a portion where the Uneven Hill is at. And it¡¯s there we believe whatever caused it to be.¡±.


    His eyes were glittering with excitement, so he didn¡¯t hesitate to ask me ¡°And what do you believe it to be?¡±. His question carried weight and expectancy, it was as if my answer could affirm something he was thinking.


    ¡°I don¡¯t honestly know,¡± I said looking at my missing sword, then clutching at my bow, ¡°but whatever it is, it¡¯s neither human nor animal. I know you common and city folk don¡¯t believe in these things, but we call them beasts, magical beasts.¡±.


    Contrary to what I thought, he was actually happy for what I gave him. Not in disbelief as others may have been, but excited and happy. ¡°Yes! Perfect! A magical beast, and not any mind you,¡± his words first made me confused, ¡°a goblin to be precise!¡± then it all snapped into place for me.


    My head was flooded with new memories. I couldn¡¯t help but pick Seron up as if he was a kid and look him in the eyes ¡°A goblin!¡±. He couldn¡¯t tell what was going on, but he seemed to share some of my excitement, with fear I may drop him. ¡°Riza¡­Riza the goblin!¡±.

 The Goblins House

    ¡°I-it has a name?!¡± Seron was obviously shocked by the information. I let him down slowly, thinking of every memory that came back to me. There was something missing amongst all of them, and that hurt the most, as it felt crucial. ¡°Can you tell me more? What did he or she look like? Are there more of them? Did it try to eat your flesh?¡±.


    His questions came to me only some moments after standing there in silence. ¡°Well, no. She told me some stories, and then offered me bread and tea.¡±. Obviously my answer perplexed him deeply. So much so, he just chuckled angrily, thinking I was probably trying to pull some more elaborate joke on him.


    ¡°Bread and tea? From a goblin? Do you even hear yourself?¡± he stood back down, pulling out a notebook, to which I pointed. ¡°It¡¯s for taking notes, or crossing off ideas, like the false belief that forest people are more serious.¡±. I could tell he was jabbing back at me, but I didn¡¯t care, it was important that he was to take note of what I was about to say. I didn¡¯t know why myself, but it also felt right, that it would lead me to that path I was seeking. To the truth hidden that was fogging my mind.


    ¡°This time I don¡¯t try to make fun of you, Seron,¡± I stood down and started to spread out the supplies inside my bag, ¡°it¡¯s what I remember most clearly. Just a small part though. There¡¯s a lot more to it, and I¡¯d like for you to listen and take note of it.¡±.


    ¡°And why should I do that? So far you only seemed concerned with making light of the situation,¡± I realised at that time that my tone and approach might¡¯ve been too playful. My father always berated me for it, but it was essential for a hunter to hide their emotions. It was especially important for situations like these, when meeting strangers. After all, had I not been so playful, he might¡¯ve kept his guard up after I showed my bow to him.


    But there was no more place for playfulness. ¡°Fine, I will talk as I mean it,¡± I said in a sombre tone, finally revealing my nature: that of a cold blooded hunter.


    Meeting the Hunter


    When I met Robin, it is fair to say he had quite the presence about himself. I already had deep knowledge of hunters and their practices around Fenoa. So when I met him, I already knew who I was dealing with. It was all a matter of playing the fool, so he would let his guard down around me. And while that seemed to be the case at first, it was when he switched his tone that I realised we¡¯ve both been playing with each other.


    While I was doubting Robin from the first exchange we had, there was an air of sincerity about him. I could tell his casual attitude was to make me feel safe around him, but I couldn¡¯t tell if that was entirely true. The thought of stabbing him and running away came across me before sitting down. But once I sat, I felt protected, not exposed to danger. Despite his rather intimidating appearance, the bear cape, bow and hunter hat which indicated he was of second rank, his body language was that of a soft man. One that knew when to use force or a gentle touch. In that case, I felt like he was merely choosing to use a gentle touch for me, just so he wouldn¡¯t expose his other side.


    Once he said he would talk as he meant it, he proposed to me to first gather some firewood and camp into the forest. I was against it of course, for I was no hunter and that particular region was amongst the most dangerous across Fenoa. But he assured me, be it an animal or whatever else may lurk out there, they wouldn¡¯t touch us. I found the choice of words interesting, as if it wasn¡¯t necessarily his ability he trusted, but something else.


    While gathering the wood, I kept noticing something from Robin. I couldn¡¯t tell if it was the light of the moon touching his cape and producing some weird light, but there was something glowing at his back when he faced me. The only reason I didn¡¯t ask, was due to a rumour that hunters were quite particular about their possessions. Each of them carried a story, and were you to be a stranger inquiring about their personal discoveries, some of which they didn¡¯t even share with their family, you would get silence at best, or a stray arrow at worst.


    I thought of asking him about it after getting on more friendly terms, perhaps once we took our time and he told me his story. At least at that point I wouldn¡¯t have much to lose.


    We set up our little camp near the road. Robin told me how animals usually keep away from it due to his family, which I trusted. The night proved cold, and if that wasn¡¯t enough to keep me awake, the howling of wolves and other animals carried with the winds did. I was of course worried the weather may pick up and end up in a bad situation, but he assured me we¡¯d be fine. Worse comes to worse, he would start digging into the ground and have me do the same near the fire.


    With those worries slightly cast aside, I asked him a few things about himself and how he got there to begin with, his mother getting sick and then arriving at the conclusion it must be some magical beast. At first I didn¡¯t take note of these details so he wouldn¡¯t think I tried prying into his life, only starting to take notes when he told me to. And that was when he crossed the river on the other side, where what they called the ¡®Uneven Hill¡¯ was at.


    While he was hurrying to get to the part he wanted me to hear, I had to ask him a few things too. Like if anything felt different when he walked into that side, what things he may have noticed and such. Thanks to that I was able to extract peculiar details, such as a slight headache and nausea taking hold of him as soon as he stepped inside. Other details were the feeling of eyes watching him that he couldn¡¯t point where it came from. So he knew he was being followed, but whatever it was, it did so better than any animal he had knowledge of. That, to him, was an affirmation how this was something entirely different from what he was used to.


    Then, after noting those details down, and what happened prior to meeting me with his consent, I asked what he wanted to talk most about. ¡°So, now, how did you meet the goblin?¡±. I looked him in the eyes when asking the question, in order to ensure that it wasn''t some further joke of his, even though his tone didn¡¯t change once that far.


    Meeting the Goblin


    I was making my way quite well through the forest. Despite that side being supposedly more harsh and hard to travel through, I was able to make it deep inside before encountering any issues. It may have been due to me tracing my mother¡¯s footsteps, or the goblin leading me there, I couldn¡¯t tell. All I knew was that I was getting closer, as the terrain was starting to move upwards.


    On the side where the Uneven Hill was at, nothing worth searching for grew. There was but one plant, I couldn''t recall at the time its name, that grew there where nowhere else it did. It was a flower, a blue one, which my father gave to my mom as a wedding gift. It was for him to show her that there was nothing he feared, although later he never once again stepped inside. He described the portion I was about to enter, and it matched that far.


    First were the old trees, old when he was young, and older still when I got there. For some reason they would just stand the test of time. Not just one or two, but the whole area surrounding the Uneven Hill. Then the animals, or a lack of them.


    It¡¯s what scared him the most really, the fact that nothing besides some birds would step in there. Deers, for example, knew the smell of a bear and to avoid their resting places. So it was right to assume most animals knew not to disturb whatever was sleeping in there.


    As I started to feel the land below me going upwards, I drew my sword in anticipation. There were trees still climbing up the hill. If something came from up above, it would have been hard for me to really brace for it, especially since the moon cast its light from behind the hill, so little to no vision was there for me.


    That was the most dangerous portion of it, after that a portion would stand almost flat towards the top with little to no vegetation. Something you could see from other higher grounds. It was there that my father found the blue flowers and picked one for my mother.


    I managed to get to the higher portion, where the flowers were supposed to be. But once I got there, no flowers were present. I didn¡¯t know what to make of it at first. Thinking about it, even though normally I would take it as a sign of precaution, I knew I had to push forward. Whatever was watching me, it was still there somewhere, I just didn¡¯t know where, but it all seemed to still point up.


    From where I stood, I could see the top of the hill and that it had a steep decline. I assumed whatever it was that followed me and got my mother sick, it would be somewhere below. So I started ascending again, always standing on the darker side of the hill.


    But then, as I was some hundred metres below the top, I felt something strange ahead. It first bothered my head, as I was leaning forward. It was an odd sensation, as if pushing a needle through skin, but the needle was my head and the skin the air ahead. I thought it must be my mind playing tricks on my body due to anxiety and stress, but, when I paused and stretched my hand to deny the trick, it was still there.


    I couldn¡¯t see it in the dark at first, once the moon started poking some of its light through, as my hand was pushing on whatever that was, I could see the image of the hill before me as if stretched, pulled inwards where my hand was pushing. When I pulled my hand back, the image of the land in front of me returned to normal.


    Hunter as I was, or I figure human, there were things which couldn''t be explained in words. The notion of magic was something of older times, older than magical beasts. At best it was a fun thing to think about, scenarios you would play in your mind if such a thing existed. But to have it all of a sudden before you, rewriting what your mind thought to be possible, shocked me.


    My heart was racing and I felt like crying. Not because I was sad or happy, just purely overwhelmed by what stood before me. I spread my palm open, trying to still make sense of it, and as I pushed harder against it, my right hand went through. Before I realised it disappeared, the simple fact that it went through sent me on my back.


    Not once in my life did I cry or scream, besides when I was a baby, yet that was enough to get a panicked, gasping scream from me.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I looked at my hand first, to see that it was still in place, and when I saw it was, I looked at the ¡®veil¡¯. Again, the image distorted, more so than before. Once I was back up, I felt my hand warmer than before. While my mind could¡¯ve gone a thousand different places, I was still able to find some calm through the fact that I was there for my mother. That, and the fact that I was able to make some sense of it.


    Whatever was before me, I could at least understand the way it worked. I had to first calm my breathing, as I realised just how loud it was. Once I did, I looked around carefully, aware I might have attracted the attraction of something. Although, quite the opposite seemed to have happened, as whatever was watching me had left.


    I then smelled the air, felt the breeze and lowered my head to the ground. Through my thoughts I was wondering if whatever the veil was, it was enveloping the top portion of the hill. That was confirmed, as the blades of grass surrounding all around that portion near the veil, were not moving with the wind. Suggesting that the veil was like a shell of sorts, isolating the air from the outside from that inside of it, the winds climbing over it. The breeze also seemed to be that of air currents going around, while there was a clear lack of smell that the earth and grass should have.


    Once I was able to confirm all those things, I started to calm down some more. It gave me security that whatever I touched and felt, was still in the realm of reason and logic, it was just different from everything I knew. That also gave me a false sense of security, as I didn¡¯t realise at the time that it meant that whatever followed me, could¡¯ve been inside the veil. Can¡¯t say even my father would¡¯ve done better in those circumstances, but it was still a mistake on my part.


    With that though, I started to wonder what was inside, and what was being hidden. As it was obvious to me the veil also was camouflage. Although the best I could call it was magic, I also had the sense that it could be explained if I had the time to play with it some more.


    But I couldn¡¯t linger any longer. There were only two choices for me: either enter the veil, or turn back home. Were I to return without anything though, my father would have probably accepted whatever I told him, he would just not have been able to forgive me. That I let his wife, and my mom, die without even trying. So I had to at least try seeing what the veil was hiding.


    I didn¡¯t just jump in of course. I started again by pushing my hand inside. Once you¡¯ve done it once, it seems, it wasn¡¯t as hard the second time. The muscles kind of knew what to expect so it was as easy as pushing a wooden door, followed by no resistance whatsoever. I then placed a foot inside, then took it out alongside my hand. I had to ensure I wouldn¡¯t be stuck inside.


    Then, I sort of supported myself against the veil with my hands, and pushed my head inside. It felt a bit awkward, but once I got through, I could see everything.


    Perhaps even more surprising than the veil itself, was first the peak that was actually some two hundred, instead of one hundred, metres from where I stood. Then the house that stood atop an almost flat portion, and perhaps most perplexing: the whole portion was lit up by blue light.


    In that instance I forgot everything, mesmerised by the view before me. Those flowers, the ones I was supposed to encounter earlier, were colouring the entire upper portion of the Uneven Hill, and were the source of the light. Each of them were producing a glow of their own, not overwhelming their own natural colour, and surrounding it rather than protruding from inside. Looking below, I could see I accidentally stepped on some of them when I took the first step inside. A path leading up was to my left that had the flowers carefully planted, signalling where it was safe to walk, interrupted where the veil stopped covering the hill.


    Once I recovered from the trance, I looked with more cautious eyes around and then at the house. There was smoke coming out of a stone chimney, the house itself was made of thick, dark brown logs. It was the same wood those old trees were made of, although I hadn¡¯t seen any cut on my way there. So the house was either built with wood from inside the veil, or it was just that old.


    Everything that far indicated that I should just give up and return home. Too many unknowns, too much odd stuff that simply didn¡¯t make sense. But, and to my shame to say this, it was no longer my mission to save my mom that took priority in my mind, it was curiosity. Perhaps it was the house that intrigued me, that gave me another false sense of security, since I assumed only a human could live inside of it, or the peaceful, albeit ominous, view before me. Whatever it was, it felt that if I were to leave, I may never be able to see this or someone else may find their way into this place that no one seemed to have a place stumbling across. I guess it was akin to seeing a miracle being performed before you, and knowing that if you don¡¯t accept it, you may never have it happen again.


    I then pulled my head out and tried stabbing the veil, to see if anything may happen. But just like with my body, it went through after a bit of resistance, as if its sharpness didn¡¯t matter. Indignated and with a deep sense of wonder, I went to the left side, where the road was at. I didn¡¯t want to step on more of those flowers, as I had a feeling of dread shortly after thinking about it. I also put the sword away, as it was meant for cutting and skinning, or when getting ambushed, nocking my bow. Even if something was to come out from those flower fields, my arrows would get to whatever it was before it had time to consider jumping me.


    Once I was where I knew the road to be at, I took a step forward. Pushing half of my body through, pointing my bow downwards, but slightly tensed, ready to release an arrow at any moment. The ground below me felt nice and soft, seeming to have been walked on, although no footsteps were present. While I found it curious, it was perhaps the least surprising thing. I then went wholly inside, pushing my hand to the outside just to ensure I wasn¡¯t trapped, which I wasn¡¯t, as it passed through.


    I then looked at my sides, assuring myself nothing was coming for me. And when I looked to my right, those flowers I stepped on seemed to have straightened themselves back up. After ensuring my near environment was safe, I took a deep breath. Air wouldn¡¯t get in or out, so I assumed the smell of smoke should be quite strong, but it wasn¡¯t. Instead, again, to my surprise, the air smelled quite fresh inside, the air moving through some currents I couldn¡¯t tell where they were going to and from. I looked around to see if I could figure it out, but didn¡¯t have time, as I could see some light coming from inside the house towards the door.


    There weren¡¯t many places to hide, but there was a slight cliff to the left side, under which no flower grew. So I ran with sharp, silent steps, careful not to kick dirt up into the air and moving my feet so they wouldn¡¯t leave prints on the road. In just a few moments I crossed about a dozen metres and below the cliff I was. The angle I could tell should provide me cover from someone looking down from the house.


    As I stood in silence, I was listening with my eyes closed. I could hear the creek of the door, then small footsteps coming out of it. Even though I was still some distance away, compared to the forest¡¯s abundance of noises, it was quite easy to hear. There weren¡¯t really any noises, just the breeze of a soft wind passing through the field of flowers.


    Assuming it was a human, the odd circumstances still dictated I should put myself in an advantageous position. My father always taught me to never trust someone who knows everything, whereas I don¡¯t. And those circumstances were exactly that, as whoever lived in that house, had to know or be responsible for what was going on. So, I pulled down on the string, clutching between my fingers the arrow, and listened some more. I had only to wait until whoever was there stepped a bit more outside, the moment they touched the ground with their feet.


    And that moment came shortly after, as a creek was followed by an utmost quiet thump on the ground, but not quiet enough. Taking into consideration they may have seen me, I went to my right and shot my arrow into the air towards them. The sound when it landed assured me it hit the wood just behind and to the right of them, and where I wanted, as the one in front of the house jumped forward I could tell. I then quickly went back to my left and onto the road, pointing my bow straight ahead.


    ¡°One step forward, and my arrow will hit you before you have time to-¡± it didn¡¯t take too long of a look to realise I wasn¡¯t dealing with a human, as what stood before me, was an old, decrepit and odd looking creature, its ears large, pointy at the end but bent slightly forward, and most importantly, the green skin. A goblin


    I no longer used thought or reason, but pure instinct. Whether it was an illusion or not, I wasn¡¯t ready to take my chances with something that shouldn¡¯t even exist, so I shot my arrow and ran the opposite way the very next moment. I then turned so I could jump backwards facing the creature, and then shot another arrow, as I fell on my back and rolled up on my feet, running towards the veil.


    However, within that short glimpse I had while shooting my second arrow, I could see the first arrow hit nothing, but had the feeling the second should. The first could¡¯ve missed, the second however I was sure it would hit the creature as it stood still there. Yet again, when I glanced back once in front of the veil, the goblin had nothing happened to it. Unmoved, unphased and no arrow to stick out of the ground or house.


    I didn¡¯t need to think about it, all I wanted was to escape. But even that was denied to me, as I pushed against the veil and that time it felt as if I was fighting a brick wall. I kicked and hit the veil, but nothing, as it didn¡¯t stretch like before. A caged animal, in my place, would try to either bang its body against it until something may happen, or stand in a corner and patiently wait. I, however, was beaten into a different kind of behaviour. When caged, especially with another, my best option was to bite before they could. The advantages were clear for the creature, and the unknowns played in my disfavour as well. Even so, waiting around wouldn¡¯t have proven good, as the goblin was moving towards me.


    Although it seemed to be old, I had that feeling when I first faced off a bear. That no matter what I¡¯d do, there was nothing to save me from my fate. And unlike before, my father wasn¡¯t there to save me, I was stuck in a cage with the beast.


    My first instinct was to run around it and shoot from a distance. Despite what I felt confronting it, its seemingly old age was an undeniable thing. Its skin was all wrinkles and hanging loosely, while its ears also indicated they no longer had the supple nature they once had. So no matter how hard it could bite or strike, it mattered not if it could not keep up its pace with me.


    So I started by going to my left, stepping on the blue glowing flowers. The goblin seemed bothered by it, but I didn¡¯t care, as I kept moving through the field and shot my first arrow. As it flew straight for it, I pulled out another, a dozen more remaining. However, as I was nocking my bow, I stopped in place and let the arrow hang loosely. The arrow, although I caught only a glimpse, snapped before the goblin, unable to reach it. And as I stood there, I started taking notice of other things. From the fact that it was wearing clothes, to its body language and human-like eyes.


    I was still determined to strike some parts of it down before it had a chance to do anything to me, but doubt was starting to make its way into my mind. I was starting to really wonder if this was some vision or illusion. I recalled my father¡¯s story, about the crazy hunter, and I was feeling anxious. That maybe whatever got my mom and that hunter, had already taken a hold of me. Whether or not I was awake, was something I started to doubt as well. So I pulled out my sword, the goblin stood still where it advanced towards, which was some fifty metres away from me. I then cut my own palm, to ensure the pain was real, and it was indeed, so was the blood I licked from my wound.


    Although I still wasn¡¯t completely certain, I at least was confident I could die. And that was enough to motivate me to put my sword between me and the goblin. Despite my obvious warning and readiness to charge, the goblin still stood there, looking at my feet. It seemed to care more about the flowers than the potential threat I was posing.


    So I started pacing from side to side, touching the road once more and out of the flower field I was. The goblin seemed to finally take notice of me, switching its gaze from the flowers. I approached slowly, knowing there was not much place for tactics. I had to wonder if it even wanted me, even though the veil wasn¡¯t moving, and it happened after it exited the house, so I wasn¡¯t sure what it wanted.


    Then, as I was some ten metres away, ready to lunge at it and try cutting it open, the most unbelievable thing happened that night. ¡°You humans never change, do you?¡± she said.