I am Shadow, 9 arcs old, a metal golem imbued with a copy of Ren Drakemore’s soul, and an adventurer on a quest to find several missing persons.

  I stand in the shattered doorway, surveying the room now littered with splintered wood. At the center, a group of small kobolds huddle behind a low stone wall and a wooden gate. Ten much smaller, naked hatchlings cling to a single figure standing protectively in front of them—an emerald-green kobold draped in white and gray robes.

  The larger kobold, barely two and a half feet tall, stands rigid, clawed fists clenched at its sides. Its amber eyes blaze with defiance, shielding the hatchlings behind it. For a moment, I take in its form—it looks like a miniature, wingless dragon forced into clothing. The hatchlings, a mix of colors, resemble tiny horned lizards, too young to stand on their hind legs.

  “So what do we do?” Maribel whispers, peeking around the edge of the doorway.

  “They look like infants,” I say, turning toward her. “The bigger one might be a juvenile.”

  CLANG.

  A conjured stone slams into the side of my head and bounces off. I turn back to see the green kobold baring its teeth at me, fury flashing in its eyes.

  "Hey! Stop that. We’re here to help—"

  THUD.

  My words are cut off as a second stone is flung straight towards my head. However, this time the projectile had struck my newly cast barrier and ricochets harmlessly to the floor.

  “She… a mage?” The mild annoyance of having rocks tossed at my head is quickly overshadowed by the shocking realization that this short, bipedal lizard has just cast a spell.

  “I didn’t know kobolds could do that…” I mutter.

  “She looks angry,” Maribel remarks.

  THUD.

  “I can tell,” I say flatly, watching as the kobold summons another projectile.

  THUD.

  “Hey, could you please stop that? We’re not going to hurt you.”

  THUD.

  “Uh, Shadow,” Maribel interjects, “kobolds don’t speak Common.”

  “…Right.” Of course. If I had thought about it, I would have realized it was unreasonable to expect an isolated underground-dwelling creature to understand my language. I know a bit about kobolds from Ren’s studies—enough to know they are distantly related to dragons and that they speak Draconic.

  THUD.

  “The poor thing is probably terrified,” Maribel says, sounding guilty. “You’re three times her size, covered in blood, and just exploded their door all over them…”

  “Yeah, sorry about that…” I respond sheepishly, kneeling down to make myself seem less intimidating.

  The emerald-scaled kobold’s expression shifts from fury to confusion as her amber eyes follow me downward. She hesitates, finally pausing her relentless bombardment. Whether my gesture has been interpreted as an act of goodwill or she’s simply growing tired from expending her mana fruitlessly, I can’t be sure.

  “Wait, I think I’ve got some food…” Maribel says, rummaging through her magic bag.

  As she searches, the kobold mage and I continue to silently observe each other. I wrack my mind, trying to remember something—anything—that might help. Then it hits me. Ren had briefly read a book called The Wisdom of the Dragon Lord, a religious text borrowed from the Magic Academy. The book had been filled with supposed teachings of the Dragon God Voltheron, but what made it relevant to me now was that every passage had been written in both Common and Draconic.

  Ren had barely gotten through ten pages before losing interest. But I have a near-perfect memory. I should be able to piece together enough Draconic to at least tell her we’re here to help.

  “Okay, I think I’ve got it,” I say confidently. “I’m going to tell her we mean no harm.”

  “No rudding way…” Maribel stares at me in disbelief. “You speak Draconic?”

  “Yeah, I speak a bit of it,” I say proudly, enjoying the rare opportunity to impress Maribel yet again with my inexplicable skills.

  “Wow, what can’t you do?” Maribel mutters, impressed.

  I take a moment to carefully recall the relevant Draconic words, piecing them together in my head. Once I’m sure I’ve got the phrase right, I enunciate a series of hissing, growling, and whining sounds as clearly and confidently as I can.

  The words echo slightly off the walls of the room, followed by an unexpected silence. Maribel and I watch closely for the kobold’s reaction.

  Sure enough, the green kobold responds immediately—but not in the way I expect. She closes her eyes, her shoulders relax, and she lets out a long exhale before pressing one clawed hand against her forehead with a grimace. Though her lizard-like features make it harder to read expressions, the sheer exasperation in her voice is unmistakable.

  Whatever I just said, she looks equal parts annoyed and uncomfortable. At least she no longer seems like she’s about to throw another rock at me.

  Then, to my complete shock, she speaks.

  “You said… you are vegetables,” she mutters in a distinctly high-pitched, feminine voice, laced with irritation.

  Maribel stares at her, then at me, then back at her.

  “So… you don’t actually speak Draconic,” Maribel deadpans.

  I choose the far less embarrassing realization. “You speak Common?”

  “Yes,” the kobold replies, her amber eyes narrowing slightly.

  “Then why did you keep throwing rocks at me?” I say indignantly.

  Without a word, she spits out a small wood splinter—likely from the shattered door that had exploded in her face earlier.

  “…Right. Sorry about that,” I say awkwardly.

  “Where are Goblins?” she asks, ignoring my apology.

  “A little here.” Maribel nonchalantly gestures at a patch of dried goblin blood on her shoulder with the piece of jerky she just pulled from her bag.

  “Some here.” She points to the blood spattered across her face.

  “All over him.” She waves her jerky toward me.

  “A bunch on the floor back there.” She tilts her head toward the tunnel.

  “And a bit on the walls too.”

  The kobold stares at her with barely concealed disgust.

  Maribel meets her gaze awkwardly, then glances down at the jerky still clutched in her bloodstained glove. She hesitates.

  “…Want some food?” she offers sheepishly, holding out the now goblin-blood-soaked meat.

  “Where my tribe?” the green kobold asks, ignoring Maribel and turning back to me.

  “We haven’t seen any other kobolds besides you,” I reply.

  She glances down at the smaller ones huddled around her, her expression momentarily clouded with sorrow. But then, as if steeling herself, she looks back up at me with determination.

  “I am Jade of the Crimson Scale Tribe,” she says, bowing her head. “And I beg you—help me return to my tribe.”

  “I’m Shadow.”

  “I’m Maribel.”

  “And we’ll gladly help you,” I assure her. “But do you know where they are?”

  “Yes,” Jade says darkly. “I know where they have gone.”

  Without another word, she steps forward, opening the wooden gate of the pen. Immediately, all ten infant kobolds scatter in different directions, darting around the room like frenzied insects.

  Jade hisses something in Draconic, clearly trying to corral them, but chaos has already taken hold.

  A charcoal-grey kobold tries to sprint past her, but Jade reacts quickly, leaping forward and catching them around the waist.

  A pale-blue one makes a break for the door, but with my quick reflexes, I block the exit with my body and outstretched hands. Undeterred, it tries squeezing past me, its claws scrabbling uselessly against my leg. A bright-red one takes a different approach—biting down on my boot with all the ferocity of a wild animal, squealing as it tugs with ineffective viciousness.

  To my left, an orange-scaled kobold has climbed onto a low shelf, tossing down folded animal skins—perhaps blankets—onto the floor. Meanwhile, two others, one pale green and the other dark blue, have opted to wrestle in the middle of the room, gnawing on each other’s tails.

  Maribel watches the chaos unfold, then turns to me. “Um… how exactly are we supposed to—?”

  Before she can finish her question, Jade emerges from the right side of the room, pushing a metal cart. It has four wheels and a flat, square base, with an open-topped cage secured on top. The bars and floor of the cage are padded with leather, and inside, two of the hatchlings are already squirming.

  Jade wastes no time abandoning the cart in the middle of the room before diving back into the fray. She hisses and growls at the two wrestling kobolds, who immediately try to bolt. But she’s faster—she pounces on the pale-green one, pins it down, and swiftly lifts it into the cage.

  Maribel and I watch, momentarily stunned, as Jade dives under the stone table in pursuit of her next hatchling.

  “Wow,” Maribel mutters, watching another kobold attempt to scramble up my arm. “They sure seem like a handful.”

  A short while later, Jade, panting from exertion, places the final hatchling into the cart. With a heavy sigh, she slumps down onto the ground, still catching her breath.

  “Here, let me push that,” I say, stepping through the doorway and up to the cart.

  “Thank you,” Jade says between breaths, slowly pushing herself back up and dusting off her robe.

  “You look exhausted,” Maribel says, kneeling beside her. “Want me to carry you? With my longer legs, we’ll probably move faster.”

  Jade pauses, studying Maribel’s face for a moment. Then, I swear I see her eyes flick down to Maribel’s chest before quickly returning to her face. “Yes, please,” she agrees—perhaps a little too eagerly.

  What was that about?

  Maribel lifts Jade like a small child, cradling her against her chest. But as she straightens up, she lets out a quiet grunt of effort, clearly surprised by the kobold’s unexpected weight. Despite her small stature, Jade is significantly denser than a human child of the same size.

  I take a moment to process the sight before me: Maribel holding what essentially looks like a miniature, wingless dragon like an overgrown toddler.

  Jade, however, seems fascinated by something else entirely.

  “They’re real!” she exclaims, eyes wide with wonder.

  Maribel blinks. “Uh… what?”

  Jade’s hands are currently resting—rather conspicuously—on either side of Maribel’s chest.

  “Umm… could you hold me somewhere else, please?” Maribel asks, shifting uncomfortably.

  I tilt my head.

  Maybe that’s some kind of kobold greeting? But that doesn’t make sense. They don’t even have—

  “Oh, okay.” Jade adjusts her grip to Maribel’s shoulders, now looking up at her with a big toothy smile. “Congratulations.” she adds.

  Maribel frowns. “Umm… thanks?” She glances at me for clarification, but I have nothing to offer.

  “Let’s get moving,” I say, choosing to push past this strange moment. I take hold of the cart and start pushing it out into the tunnel, the hatchlings inside growling and hissing like a bundle of scaly chaos.

  Maribel, still looking vaguely bewildered, follows behind me with Jade in her arms.

  Jade immediately points down the tunnel. “That way,” she instructs, and Maribel takes the lead.

  We hurry down the tunnel at a steady jog—Maribel carrying Jade, and me pushing the cart full of hatchlings. As we approach each doorway, Maribel sets Jade down so she and I can clear the room. We have to be thorough, ensuring there are no lingering threats behind us and checking for any survivors.

  Each time, we follow the same practiced routine. If the door is unlocked, I push it open. If it’s locked, I break it down. No matter how I enter, my sword is drawn, and my barrier is up. Once inside, I scan the room for immediate threats. Maribel follows behind, crossbow raised, using me for cover as we sweep the corners. Meanwhile, Jade stays back with the hatchlings, keeping them safe.

  Room after room, we find nothing but bloodstains and overturned furniture—signs of a desperate struggle, yet no bodies, neither kobold nor goblin. After clearing our fifteenth room, I start to feel like we may have already killed all the remaining goblins. But the absence of bodies strikes me as strange.

  That morbid curiosity doesn’t linger long—because the sixteenth room provides a gruesome answer.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I reach for the handle, and it rattles slightly but doesn’t budge. Looking down, I notice there is a great deal more blood around and under this door than anywhere else. I glance at Jade, who has her hands clamped over her mouth, eyes wide with apprehension. This ominous observation gives me pause, but whatever may lay behind this door, I know it must be opened regardless.

  I step back and kick the door in.

  CRASH!

  The wooden door shatters under my steel boot—but before I can step through, an arrow whizzes past, striking my barrier and bouncing harmlessly down the tunnel.

  I spot the shooter immediately—a goblin crouched inside the room, its gnarled green face twisted in fury, hateful yellow eyes locked onto me, his body still in the pose it was when it loosed its arrow. Before it could even move—

  THUNK!

  Maribel’s crossbow bolt slams into its skull before it can react. The goblin crumples lifelessly to the ground, its body dropping like a puppet with its strings cut.

  I rush into the room, blade first. The moment I enter, a spear thrusts at me from the right. I parry it with ease, and before the goblin can recover, I drive my sword through its throat. A second spear follows from the left, aiming straight for my chest. I catch it by the shaft, stopping it inches from impact.

  SNAP.

  I break the shaft with my left hand and ram the broken spearhead into the goblin’s face. It stumbles back, shrieking, clutching its gushing eye. His predicament and his ear shattering scream are remedied by my blade as it removes its filthy head from its’ shoulders.

  “Oh Gods..” gasps Maribel behind me.

  I have no question in my mind what has elicited that reaction, and it wasn’t the three goblins. If I still had lungs I would have gasped too. Because the things that the goblin archer had been taking cover behind, were the bodies of many slain Kobolds. In fact, looking around, we find ourselves in a very large room with stacks of bodies. Hundreds of dead, dismembered, and partially eaten Kobolds lay in heaps the way that one might stack sacks of flour or grain. There are even some dead goblins littered among the bodies as well.

  "Don't look in here!" I bark, turning back toward the door.

  I’m too late.

  Maribel stumbles back, gagging, one hand clamped over her nose and mouth. Past her, I see Jade in the doorway, frozen. Her amber eyes are wide in horror, locked on the carnage before her. Then, as if something inside her snaps, she collapses to her knees, hands gripping her face. Her mouth is open, but no sound comes—just a silent, shuddering scream.

  I move swiftly, kneeling down to gather her small, trembling form in my arms. She doesn’t resist. She buries her face into my cloak, her entire body wracked with sobs.

  “Rithka…” she whispers, voice cracking as she clutches my cloak. She continues to murmur in draconic, words I can’t understand.

  I may not understand the words, but I understand her suffering.

  I carry her away as fast as I can.

  "Those vile, ruddy monsters..." Maribel mutters, pushing the cart behind me, her voice low with simmering rage.

  I don’t know how many kobolds lived here, but that room—that grotesque heap of bodies—had to be a significant portion of Jade’s tribe. Worse still, the goblins hadn’t just left them where they fell. They had gathered them. Piled them up in one place like livestock, saving them for later consumption. That room was a type of macabre pantry.

  I gently pat Jade’s back as she clings to me, silent and despondent. We continue through the labyrinthine tunnels. Each time we reach a door, I have to set Jade down to clear the room. She stays where I place her, waiting for my return. She only speaks when necessary, giving quiet directions as we navigate the twisting caves.

  Eventually, she leads us into a cavern far larger than the others, the passageway stretching downward into the deepest part of the labyrinth. At the end of the tunnel stands a massive door—twelve feet tall, solid mithril, engraved with draconic script and intricate carvings of mighty dragons, kobolds kneeling in reverence beneath them.

  We stop to take in the imposing sight. I step forward and press my hands against the metal, but it doesn't budge.

  "Why's it so big?" Maribel asks, panting slightly as she leans on the cart handle. "I mean... you said kobolds are, what, three feet tall?"

  "Good question..." I murmur, running my fingers over the engravings.

  "Put me down, Mr. Shadow," Jade says softly.

  I set her down gently, watching as she approaches the door. For a moment, I expect her to push against it, but instead, she raises her right hand while clutching the red crystal pendant around her neck. She hisses and growls something in draconic, her voice low and commanding.

  A deep red glow pulses through the engravings. Then, with a heavy rumble, the door swings open on its own.

  Beyond the threshold lies a vast cavern, its center dominated by a massive circular dais bathed in golden light. The path from our tunnel leads directly to it, with several other walkways branching off in different directions. The air feels... charged. Ancient. As if we’ve stepped into something sacred.

  "Come this way," Jade says, finally choosing to walk on her own.

  "This place is massive," Maribel murmurs in awe, trailing just behind her.

  "Yes," I say, more to myself than anyone else. Strange.

  This place... it feels like a secret we aren’t meant to understand.

  SLAM.

  The massive door swings shut behind us, the sound reverberating through the cavern like a judge’s final decree. Maribel and I instinctively pause, turning to glance at the sealed exit. But Jade doesn’t break stride—she keeps moving forward, unfazed.

  Maribel and I exchange a look. What did we just get ourselves into?

  We follow her down the stone path, our gazes drawn upward. The cavern is vast and dark, so much so that even my magically enhanced vision fails to penetrate the black expanse above us. That strikes me as odd, I didn’t think my night sight had a range limit.

  Then again, maybe something else is at work. That worrying thought solidifies as, for a fleeting moment—I can’t be entirely sure it isn’t a trick of my mind—I think I see something equally black and massive stir in that void.

  Maribel doesn’t react, her attention has drifted downward, peering into the abyss on either side of the stone path. It occurs to me that she might not have seen what I saw. My vision is entirely magical, while hers is still primarily biological.

  The flesh does have its limitations.

  Once we get closer to the central dais, Maribel gasps. “It’s gold…”

  She’s right. The massive platform ahead glows with a warm golden light—not from magic, but from wealth. The dais is more of a basin, filled to the brim with gold coins, ornate trinkets, and treasure. The sheer volume is staggering.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I warn, predicting her impulse. I also have a fairly good idea of the dangerous predicament we have found ourselves in, and know that any attempt to abscond with anything from this horde would be a very bad idea.

  Maribel huffs but doesn’t argue.

  It’s too late to leave now, the only way out is through.

  Suddenly a low, haunting horn call cuts through the cavern, its wavering tone sending a vibration through my frame.

  Then comes the growling.

  A deep, rolling chorus of snarls.

  From every tunnel leading to the dais, hundreds of kobolds surge forward—clad in gleaming mithril armor, spears raised, their formation disciplined as they charge toward the central platform.

  Maribel’s hand twitches toward her daggers.

  “Don’t,” I say. “Hands up.”

  She exhales sharply but obeys, raising her hands as I do the same.

  Jade rushes ahead, throwing herself between us and the advancing army. She shouts in Draconic, her voice urgent, her arms waving frantically as she pleads with her kin to stop.

  The warriors keep coming.

  And yet, in the absurdity of the moment, one detail stands out to me:

  The mighty wall of kobold soldiers barely reaches my waist.

  The army of kobolds only halts once they have completely surrounded us, spears leveled from every direction, their armored forms packed tightly in a three-meter radius. Maribel and I remain still, hands raised in surrender, as a few soldiers step forward, rolling the cart of hatchlings out of the circle.

  Meanwhile, Jade is engaged in a heated conversation with a kobold soldier wearing the most fancy helmet, likely the one in charge. Now seeing her stand on her tiptoes, trying to meet his gaze, I realize how much shorter she is compared to her kin. She gestures wildly as she speaks, miming a sword swing, an arm-mounted crossbow shot, and—if I’m not mistaken—the distinct motion of kicking down a door. It’s obvious she’s explaining how we helped her.

  Whatever she says seems to be working. The commander’s expression shifts from anger to confusion, and many of the spears pointed at us begin to lower. The tension in the air, while still thick, is easing.

  With the immediate threat lessening, I take a moment to study the kobolds around me. Many of them are bandaged in the gaps between their armor, their injuries fresh. The sight tells me something crucial—either their healers were lost in the goblin attack, or their mages are too drained to treat them all.

  Either way, they need help. Help I can provide.

  "Excuse me," I say loudly.

  Every eye snaps to me. Jade tenses, looking apprehensive about whatever I’m about to say.

  "I noticed many of you are injured. I have a large quantity of high-grade healing potions I can give you."

  Silence. The entire room shifts its focus from me to Jade.

  She repeats my words in draconic, and I carefully slip my right hand into my magical bag, retrieving three small vials, each emitting a faint green glow.

  I hold out the potions toward the kobold in charge, who steps past Jade and reaches up to take one of the vials from my hand. He lifts it to his face, scrutinizing the glowing liquid inside. After a moment, he offers it to Jade, who examines it just as carefully.

  She uncorks the vial, and despite what sounds like protests from the other kobolds, she lifts it to her snout and sniffs. Another exchange in Draconic follows between her and the leader, but he still seems unconvinced. Then, without warning, Jade glances at me before swiftly tipping the potion back and drinking it in one gulp.

  Gasps ripple through the gathered kobolds. Maribel rolls her eyes and brings her hands back to her side.

  Jade holds out her hands, turning in place to show that she remains unharmed, looking rather smug about it. The leader observes her closely, his expression shifting as the tension in his posture eases. He then turns back to me, his hostility gone, and hisses something in Draconic.

  "He asks how many you can spare," Jade translates.

  "I have 172," I say casually, kneeling and shifting my bag in front of me.

  Jade translates while I begin pulling potion vials from my bag, placing them neatly on the ground. As I continue, Jade and the armored kobold engage in another discussion, but I barely pay attention—I’m focused on steadily filling the floor before me with an ever-growing sea of glowing green vials. The more I pull out, the more shocked the surrounding kobolds appear.

  Maribel chuckles. "So… you just walk around with nearly two hundred healing potions, Shadow?"

  "Yes."

  "You know you could buy a castle with how much those are worth, right?" she says, watching the pile grow. "How do you even afford that?"

  "I… uh… make them," I reply, hesitating slightly. It’s not entirely accurate—Ren and Lady Willow are the ones who actually make them—but since I have Ren’s skills, I could make them if I had to. Close enough.

  Maribel stares at me, eyes wide with disbelief. “You make high-grade healing potions?” she echoes incredulously. “How are you so good at so many things?”

  I shrug. “I don’t sleep.”

  “Not buying it.” She crosses her arms, looking me up and down. “Making high-grade potions is a rare skill. You’re a bad liar, but whatever. Keep your secrets, Mr. Mysterious.”

  Before long, the head kobold gives orders, and the others begin collecting the potions, carrying them off. The rigid military formation around us dissolves into a more casual gathering. Several of the injured kobolds drink the potions immediately, their wounds sealing before our eyes. The group as a whole visibly relaxes, tension melting away.

  At least, until the voice speaks.

  “Intriguing…”

  The deep, monstrous yet oddly feminine voice reverberates through the cavern, its sheer presence shaking the air around us. It doesn’t come from one direction but from everywhere, bouncing off the cavern walls as though the stone itself carries the speaker’s words.

  Instantly, every kobold in the room drops to their knees, prostrating themselves before the dais.

  Maribel shudders beside me, gripping her arms, her breath hitching. “You feel that?” she whispers.

  I don’t feel anything, but I see it—the swirling vortex of mana that coils through the air, unseen to the naked eye but unmistakable to my enhanced vision.

  “I am Zephoryn and I would like to thank the one who sent you for helping my family,” the voice booms, speaking in Common. The cavern trembles with the force of it, followed by a low, guttural growl that rumbles through the stone beneath our feet.

  I take a step forward, raising my voice. “It is my honor to aid you, great dragon.”

  SILENCE!

  The sheer force of the word crashes into us like a physical wave. The shockwave nearly knocks me off balance, and Maribel is forced to her knees, gasping.

  “I wish to meet the master, not the tool.”

  I look up, instinctively scanning the dark void above. And then, I see it—something massive shifting in the shadows, black scales momentarily dipping into the faint light before vanishing again.

  “That’s a dragon?!” Maribel hisses in a terrified whisper.

  Jade, still pressed to the ground, suddenly bursts into frantic, high-pitched hissing in Draconic, her words desperate and pleading. Zephoryn pauses, considering her words, then lets out another low, reverberating growl.

  “My servant has told me that you slew over one hundred goblins, saved my missing priestess, rescued a clutch of hatchlings, and provided rare healing potions for my tribe.” The dragon’s tone has softened slightly. “You did for my family what I was unable to. For that, I thank you.”

  “In addition, one of you is a most intriguing oddity. I would very much like to learn what brought you into existence…” Zephoryn adds, her tone becoming one of curiosity.

  Maribel looks thoroughly confused by that remark, but I understand perfectly. She means me.

  “You two will leave,” Zephoryn declares. “But the one who sent you must return. Tell them I will offer them my gratitude—and their reward—for what has been done here today.” A long pause follows, then:

  “I will ask how you came to be, and I will pay your master well for this knowledge.”

  “We will do as you request,” I respond.

  Zephoryn utters a few final words in Draconic before Jade and the other kobolds rise to their feet.

  “Please, come with us. We will escort you back to the surface,” Jade says, grasping my right pointer finger and gently tugging me forward.

  Without hesitation, Maribel and I follow her lead, flanked on both sides by kobold soldiers as we make our way out of the cavern. It’s clear that the dragon’s command is absolute—there will be no further discussion.

  The moment we step beyond the threshold, Maribel leans toward me and whispers, “What was she talking about back there?”

  I hesitate for a fraction of a second before offering an answer. “Maybe she wants to meet Lord Griswald, the one who issued us this quest?” I lie smoothly.

  I don’t like lying to Maribel, but it is important to Ren that I avoid revealing my connection to him. However, it would seem that the dragon was able to easily see through my disguise. It also appears that she somehow determined that I am the puppet, and that there is a puppeteer. As unsettling as that is, it could also be an opportunity.

  Dragons are immensely powerful, intelligent creatures, obsessed with hoarding wealth and knowledge. They are also known for their ruthless pursuit of what they desire, often resorting to force if necessary. Zephoryn is undeniably dangerous. However, she is also in our debt. We saved her people, protected her priestess, and provided healing for her warriors.

  And most importantly, she wants to know the secrets behind my creation. That gives us leverage. This could be an opportunity—one that Ren might one day use to secure a powerful ally or, at the very least, a favor worth its weight in gold.

  Though this detour hasn’t brought us any closer to solving our actual quest, it has yielded an undeniably valuable outcome.

  “Please forgive the queen, Mr. Shadow,” Jade says sincerely, glancing up at me. “My tribe can never repay what you have done for us.”

  “You don’t owe us anything, Lady Jade,” I reply kindly.

  Except, you actually do.

  Willow once taught Ren that humility earns greater rewards from those in debt. A grateful debtor is more generous than an obligated one.

  “We’re happy to help those in need,” Maribel adds with a warm smile.

  Jade continues guiding us through the winding tunnels toward the entrance at the base of the crevasse. It isn’t until we’re halfway to the exit that she finally realizes she’s been pulling me along like a hatchling leading its parent. The moment she notices the amused snickers from her kin, she releases my finger, clearing her throat as she tucks her hands behind her back.

  She leads the rest of the way in silence, her steps slightly more self-conscious, though no less determined.

  After a long and winding journey through the kobold tunnels—so many twists and turns that anyone without a perfect memory would be utterly lost—we finally step out into the open air at the cave’s entrance.

  As we emerge, our kobold escort forms a line just inside the mouth of the cave. In perfect unison, they bring their spears to their chests in a salute. Maribel and I pause, turning to face them.

  "Mr. Shadow," Jade says, stepping forward. She tilts her head up, clearly struggling to meet my eyes. Seeing this, I kneel to make it easier for her.

  "Yes, Lady Jade?"

  Without hesitation, she steps forward and wraps her arms around me, pressing her head lightly against my dented breastplate. Her arms don’t even reach halfway around my torso.

  "Thank you for saving us," she whispers, her voice raw with emotion.

  She pulls back, looking up at me with misty amber eyes and a soft, grateful smile.

  "You're all battered… You risked your lives for us."

  Then, she turns to Maribel, stepping close and reaching up to place a clawed hand gently on her stomach.

  "And in your condition… that was incredibly brave of you both."

  Jade steps back in front of the gathered kobolds and lowers herself into a deep bow, making her seem even smaller.

  "On behalf of the Crimson Scale Tribe, I thank you both and wish you safe travels."

  "Farewell," I reply simply, offering a slight bow in return. Maribel doesn’t return the bow, looking around bewildered.

  Without further ceremony, I turn and start up the long, sloping path out of the canyon.

  Maribel snaps out of her daze and quickly falls into step beside me.

  "Seriously, what did she mean by that?" she asks in frustration.

  I shrug. "No idea."

  "Well, that was one heck of a detour," Maribel mutters, looking down at herself in exhausted disgust. The combination of blood, gore, and filth covering her is enough to make even a seasoned adventurer grimace. "I don’t regret it, but we’re no closer to finding Diana and the others."

  "True," I admit. "And unfortunately, we don’t have time to rest. We need to collect the girls, get back to the road, and head to Ashford."

  Maribel glances at me, taking in the numerous dents, cracks, and torn fabric. "Do you need to make some repairs? You can’t exactly stroll into town looking like that. Your lack of humanity is showing."

  "I don’t have the materials for proper repairs, but I can at least mend my clothes on the road," I sigh, looking over my tattered gear. I’m not particularly thrilled about wasting time and mana playing seamstress, but I don’t have much of a choice.

  As soon as we step out of the cavern, no longer blocked by the mithril-rich walls, I mentally reach out, reestablishing my connection with the airborne puppet that has been circling above while we were underground. A flood of memories and observations rushes into my mind.

  "Oh no…"

  "Hey… uh, Shadow?"

  "They didn’t—"

  "Shadow!"

  "You’ve got to be kidding me."

  "Shadow, look!

  My iron-clad palm meets my face in exasperation as I come to a halt.

  I don’t even need to look. The puppet has already shown me everything—the absurd and frustrating series of events that unfolded while we were in the cave.

  Maribel and I both stare down at the pathetic pile of chewed-up splinters that was once the tree where we had tied up Huckleberry and Buttercup, the chaotic mare duo.

  "Gods damn