A bell’s rusty jangle, as pleasant as grating a fork across a plate, echoed throughout the cave tunnel. To Frey, the chime was a plea; “Please get me back to Arte” it seemed to say. However, to the remaining goblins, the chime was to toll the dead.

Frey had marched down the goblins’ cave and cut down whatever leapt in his path. His pole axe was too large within the narrow space, but his kopis had sailed through his enemies with ease, but only at the beginning.

‘Of all things, a cold is going to do me in?’ Frey thought as he leaned against a wall. His latest victim, yet another stupid goblin, cried armlessly on the ground. Before he finished the monster off, he yanked his helmet off his head.

Frey’s hair grabbed his face with a wet slap. He took a second to fix himself up; shaking the sweat out of his moist helm, catching his breath, and trying not to pass out. He almost envied the goblin, which was still writhing on the ground. Its suffering would end soon enough.

The goblin screamed out unintelligible gibberish, no doubt cursing his existence. If not for Frey, its arms wouldn’t be lying next to its slain brethren. Frey wasn’t a sadist. He didn’t spare the goblin’s life to hear it be in pain. However if anything would get his strength back, it was his grandfather’s power. The sickness made him much weaker and slower. He couldn’t have that.

A white, flaming aura surrounded Frey’s hand, which he placed on the goblin’s forehead. He closed his eyes and breathed in a fraction of the goblin’s strength. He breathed out a portion of his exhaustion. The aura grew and, as he went to breathe in again, a voice broke his concentration.

“Hello?”

Frey cursed. The goblin took one last breath and his life uselessly slipped out of his body. ‘That was close,’ he thought. ‘I almost revealed my family’s secret because of a stupid cold. Olpi knows and that’s already stretching it, assuming she can keep her mouth shut…what was I doing again?’

“Hello?” the voice called out again.

Frey slowly rose back to his feet. He had to lean onto the wall to keep from falling over: “Are you human?”

“Yes!” the voice exclaimed.

“The knights, finally.” A second voice bellowed from around a bend in the path.

A collection of pleas and rattling chains made Frey rush down the tunnel, a smile tugging his lips across his pale face. He had finally reached the end, where the prisoners were kept.

Cages lined the walls and reaching out from behind bars were hands; human yet pale and bony. Most recoiled from Frey’s light crystal like vermin, a feral-ness born in the prolonged darkness. Those who didn’t flinch back were either less dirty, likely newer additions, or lay within a horrid stench. Frey approached a prisoner among the former; surprised to find that he was a scraggly farm hand who he had exchanged a few words with on occasion.

“Frey?” the farm hand said, squinting to get a better look at Frey. “Am I seeing things? Aren’t you supposed to be in the capital?”

Frey scanned the rest of the faces, who were all familiar, but none of them family. “Wait a second, are all these people from Petal Town?”

“Yes, we were taken by these goblins,” the farm hand explained, gesturing to his rags. “Thank the goddess you took care of most of them.”

Frey narrowed his eyes. “What did you see?”

“It was horrible I tell you,” the farm hand lamented. “They take anyone they can get their hands on, then they send us out to do their bidding. I was beginning to fear the guards would never come. I tried to tell the lord before I was taken but he hasn’t-“

“You didn’t see me fighting?” Frey cut him off, too exhausted to be sympathetic. At that point, even talking made him lightheaded.

The farm hand shook his head. “We can’t see much at all. They keep us in the dark.”

“Did you see my sister Gwen among the prisoners, possibly with a baby?” Frey asked. He winced as a throbbing headache fought for his attention. ‘Maybe I’ll just take a short rest after I find Arte,’ he thought. ‘Better to pass out in a cave than in the snow.’

The farm hand gripped his bars, staring at a piece of leather hanging near the back of the cave. Frey curiously turned to examine it, but the farm hand pulled on his arm. “Can you break me out of this cage before anything else? Please. We’re all from the same place. Can’t you, a Virility guard of all people, help us out?”

Frey glanced at the prisoners again, who watched like scarecrows. While he had his back turned to them, an eerie silence had taken hold of the cave. Frey presented Arte’s toy and shook it. “This toy came from a goblin. It’s Arte’s, my nephew’s. I need to find him, then I’ll free you.”

“B-but I want to be free,” The farmhand hesitated.

Frey slammed Arte’s toy against the bars. “Where?” he shouted, and the farm hand scrambled back. “Where is my family?”

“Just calm down,” the farm hand cautioned him, putting his hands up. “No need for shouting.”

“I can’t ‘just calm down’. It’s not that easy,” Frey snapped. “Arte is the only family I have left in this world and he’s gone. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

Tears streaked down the farm hand’s face as he stared up at Frey: “I do know, very well. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pointed over to a cage in the back of the room. Frey couldn’t see what was within it except for a few items within its cold bars.

“Thanks,” Frey said, turning away from the man. He tightened his grip on the light crystal and the room darkened. His heartbeat was so loud. His headache grew more intolerable with each thump. He took a step towards Gwen’s cage, then another. The prisoners watched him shamble across the room.

“Frey, you shouldn’t look,” the farm hand kept yammering over the silence. “Just get us out.” Frey ignored him.

“Gwen?” He brought his light crystal up to the cage and stared through the bars.

“I’m sorry,” the farm hand said.

“Just shut up!” Frey whipped around and threw the toy at him, which broke upon impact with the bars. The rusty bell bounced off the ground, rolled back to Gwen’s cage, and came to a stop besides a small pile of bones.

Frey closed his eyes, took a breath, and cursed under his breath. “I’m too late.” With nothing to move towards, no family left in the world, all the pent up exhaustion finally took its toll on his body. His eyes grew heavy. ‘Maybe I should rest. Elero can wait. It’ll be quick.’

“They had my daughter.” The break would have to wait. The farm hand was too annoying to ignore. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Frey fell to a knee, feeling the strength leave his body, then a mace sailed over his head and into the bars.

The bars’ clanging snapped Frey to reality. He rolled as the mace came back around for his head. Turning around he came face to face with a giant goblin; tall, beefy, and snarling. It was the goblins’ leader. Somehow it had hidden and waited for him, as if it knew he would come.

Frey tried to stand but his knees buckled.. He looked up at the mace and cursed.