World of Yirlifa, Northern Continent.

Rain was falling in the middle of the night over the Eastern territories of Likia Kingdom. Lightning flashed among the clouds and thunder roared in the distance.

The lands around Klata City and Buri City embraced the rain, animals ran in the forests looking for shelter and the people huddled for warmth in their homes.

Across the land, multiple stories unfolded.

In the heart of the cities, politicians schemed and plotted moves against their opponents, weighing options and selecting the pawns for their next move.

A [Magus of Lightning] received reports from his clansmen about their unsuccessful search of a child blessed with a lightning-attuned physique, and recalled the mysterious people he met as a passing encounter in a restaurant.

Adventurers healed their wounds and rested. They ate, drank, and partied in celebration or in grief. Many discussed about possible future missions and pondered whether to move to a different place to look for more profitable quests.

Priests of absent gods despaired as their prayers found no response, and feared for the fate of their faith and institutions. Some would persevere and keep their vows, but undoubtedly many would falter, as the tribulation ahead was no small matter. Already schisms were forming within the Faith, and the public was starting to notice something was amiss as the cleric healers failed to provide aid and the preachers stopped their service.

A young Wolfkin adventurer stealthily walked under the shade of trees and stared at the [Necromancer] who stood alone in the rain. She smelled the emotions in him, the loneliness and bitterness mixed with a burning passion for his craft and unyielding desire to achieve his goal. She remembered darker days when loneliness and hunger had been an everyday event and she had wanted to change her life, surprising herself for the surge of sympathy that she felt for one who practiced such despicable arts. The red-haired young man straightened his back and strode on, the black-haired girl hesitated just a bit, then walked after him.

Under the sanctuary of an otherworldly artifact that was used as a home, a mother sat resting her head on a fine wooden table and watched with nostalgia as her daughter looked out the window. For the first time in years, as a thunderstorm roared outside, the girl felt no pain, and no tremor ran through her body. Instead, the girl smiled, her eyes alight with amusement and wonder. Such a simple thing, the way it always should have been but that the whims of fate had denied them due to the girl’s very nature; it was like a dream come true for the mother. As the woman gently smiled, her eyes wandered towards the other person in the room, a God in the shape of a man walked in while carrying a tray with cups filled with hot chocolate. The one to whom she owed more than she could repay just for freely gifting her the scene before her. She met his blue eyes and he smiled back at her. She received the cup of chocolate and wondered how he felt about her.

Multiple situations were unfolding across the land, each was an important matter, at least for each individual involved. But all of those were secondary for now, for deep under the surface a more significant event was about to unfold.

The people on the surface would not know about it for quite some time. Even many of those involved were experiencing uncertainty and having second thoughts, but the ripples of effect from this event would one day be felt across the world.

Yet almost everyone ignored it, only a certain Ascended Being knew the repercussions and consequences of this as he watched that underground event from afar while drinking chocolate and merrily listening to the words of a fascinating woman who thought of herself as ordinary and simple, but who shined like a beautiful gem to his senses.

He chose to let the events follow their course. For better or for worse, the choice of the future was in the hands of the people involved. He just gave it… a little push. A chance for change.

Navin Lakar smiled. Chocolate was a great drink for watching the Wheel of Fate turn in exciting new directions.

The Goblins of a tribe were gathering.

Indeed, any other day or night this might have been meaningless. Any other time, such a gathering within a tribe would develop into simple discussions, eating whatever they could, probably some fights, some would have sex, and then all would go to sleep.

But not this time.

Tonight was a night like no other for the members of the Blaze Cave Tribe, and multiple emotions swayed their hearts as they approached something unknown but undeniably important.

The worst part was that they didn’t really know why they felt this way. Restless, hesitant, hopeful, excited, afraid.

They walked through the underground tunnels of their home and felt their blood begin to quicken. They did not know why this was happening, or what exactly was going on, but they could feel that something would happen very soon. Something very big and important. And that had them nervous.

The Chieftain had gathered the Shamans hours ago, and whatever had happened during that meeting had put them in a frenzy, blabbering things about ancestors and some long-forgotten god. A weird and ridiculous thing, for Goblins had no god nor guardian spirit who watched over them.

Or so they had believed, until now.

As they walked the tunnels and saw the faces of their kin, heard the whispered words and pertained of the rumors being passed from one Goblin to the next, they were no longer so sure.

And that uncertainty gave birth to hope, which also gave birth to fear and hesitation. Should they dare to have hope, only to have it squashed like ripe fruit under the force of a hammer by merciless reality?

And what did it matter, if there was a god out there who favored Goblins? Surely that would be an incompetent deity, for Goblins were in a miserable state. Yet the rumors traveled and those who had seen the jubilant faces of the Shamans were wondering if perhaps… perhaps there was something more practical about it.

In this state of uneasiness, hundreds of members of the tribe gathered into the center of the cave system, deep under the ground.

The largest cavern of their home base was very wide, it had many entrances and a tall ceiling filled with luminescent moss and some crystals with natural fluorescence.

The underground mines were rich with all kinds of materials, some extremely valuable for the “civilized races”, but Goblins could not make full use of these resources due to lacking the appropriate industry and knowledge to process them.

Even with the excellent night vision of Goblinkind, it would have been hard to see anything this deep underground, but the moss and crystals provided enough illumination. Despite its size, it was getting cramped now that so many of the members of the tribe had gathered at once, even with other groups standing on upper tunnels and elevated rocks, this was not appropriate for a gathering.

On the furthest wall, Chieftain Feneh stood watching them, standing out as always among the rest of the tribe due to his eye-catching red skin, tall figure and force of presence. Being near him was like standing next to a bonfire, and occasionally there were some incidents of things catching fire around him. His Gift of Fire was a mighty thing.

Next to him was Kar the Plan-maker, who had just metamorphosed into a Hobgoblin. Tall and lean, with fine features that were uncommon on Goblins, but nobody who saw him could call him anything but a member of their species. There was just something so Goblin about him that inspired strange sensations on all who cast their sight on the tactician.

Moving restlessly around the two, the Shamans of the tribe were running while shouting to each other and to their assistants, moving with haste to different parts of the cave while placing many objects on the ground and walls.

They painted symbols on the walls with a mixture of herbs and oil, sometimes making a finishing touch with their blood. The Shamans placed amulets of bone, stone and wood, some totems decorated with colorful feathers and shiny trinkets, along with fangs and ornaments taken as trophies from hunts and battles. All the while, they were chanting, sometimes in a low whisper, sometimes in a loud voice. They seemed possessed by something, it was a strange sight, even for those of the tribe accustomed to the Shamans’ eccentricities this was an odd situation.

Yet they moved with a purpose, guided by something larger than themselves. So in their frenzy, they did not feel pain nor fatigue.

Kar watched all this and pondered whether this had been a correct choice. But it was too late to back off. After showing the stone tablet and the scroll to Feneh, the Chieftain had decided to contact the Shamans of the tribe, only to find them in a state of restlessness.

Following the advice of the Sage, Kar had refrained from showing them the stone tablet. Even if they were useful to the tribe, Kar didn’t really trust the Shamans, and neither did Feneh.

And yet, Kar was certain that merely being in the vicinity of the stone tablet had affected them in some manner. This treasure was too interlinked with their species, and Shamans were the ones most attuned to their ancestral knowledge and magic.

What Kar had shown them –reluctantly, and at Feneh’s annoying behest– had been the scroll. ‘The Refuge of the Hollow Mountain’, a tale about a Goblin who had become a God. Kar had wanted to wait for at least a few days before following the advice of the Sage, but Feneh argued that the sooner the better, and looking at the state the Shamans were in, it seemed that was the correct choice.

Feneh was good at this kind of thing, he had good instincts and knew their people, that made him a good Chieftain, even if he was a bit of an idiot in other matters.

A smack on the back of his head got him out of his ruminations. Kar turned to glare at the culprit, the only Goblin within arms reach. Incidentally, also the only Goblin in the tribe against whom he couldn’t return the punch without causing a huge incident.

“What?”

“You were insulting me in your head.”

Kar stared at his friend and Chieftain. Feneh had some bandages still, but he looked strong and stood tall. Kar stared at him in silence. Could Feneh read minds now? That seemed ridiculous, but who knew what was the limit of the Hierarchy of Classes. All kinds of strange Skills were possible.

“It shows on your face.”

The red Hobgoblin explained with a grin. He cracked his neck left and right, his muscles were still sore from the fight but were no impediment for him to move around freely.

“Are you sure of this?”

Kar decided to disregard the accusation, suspiciously accurate as it was, and instead questioned the Chieftain about their current situation. That only made the red Hobgoblin grin wider. There was no point in asking such things now, but Kar still did. Even if only to make idle conversation and distract his mind for whatever was to come.

“Yeah. I’m good at reading faces.”

“Not that. This.”

Kar signaled around them with one hand. The decorations placed by the Shamans, and the Goblins entering the cavern with so many expressions in their faces. The scroll hadn’t even been unfolded and its effect was being felt already.

Feneh shrugged.

“This is important to all of us, right? You said it. But don’t worry, I have a Skill for these situations.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, it’s a [Chieftain]’s special Skill.”

That caught Kar’s attention. If there was really a Chieftain-only Skill that was related to the Shamans’ spiritual experience or the creator of the stone tablet, it ought to be very special and powerful.

“What’s that Skill?”

“It’s called [Being Right]. Trust me, I’m a Chieftain. It will be fine.”

The red goblin laughed boisterously and Kar mentally regretted following his game. Yeah, he should have seen this one coming. He mentally counted to five to avoid punching Feneh in the face. Now was not the time for it, nor could he do that in front of a gathering of the rest of the tribe, it would be seen as a challenge and that kind of thing had consequences. It was his fault for thinking Feneh would take this solemn occasion with the seriousness that it was due.

His friend laughed harder at the expression of Kar’s face. The recently transformed Hobgoblin had to count to ten and then again, but swore that he would have a petty vengeance at the first chance he got.

Decorated torches were placed along the wall where Kar and Feneh were standing. None were lighted, the Goblins had learned the hard way that smoke and fire in clamped places was a very bad idea, although the center cavern had a very tall ceiling. Kar wondered what their purposes were, as the current illumination provided by the moss was enough for the Goblins’ eyes, but the Shamans were in no mood to answer his inquiries.

There was a fanatical glint in the eyes of the Head Shaman of the Blaze Cave Tribe when he approached Feneh. Kar thought there was a bit of foam on the border of the painted Hobgoblin’s mouth.

“All is ready.”

Even his voice sounded different. A bit distant, as if he was half-sleep, but also vibrant even after all the chanting and shouting. He creeped Kar out a bit, the Shaman looked like a ghost had possessed it. And considering what they were doing, Kar wasn’t really able to rule out that possibility. He decided to not think about that any further. That was for the best.

Feneh turned towards Kar and nodded, it was time.

Kar pulled out the scroll from his bag and every single Shaman in the room shivered. Everyone fell silent as the air itself charged with something otherworldly. Something strange yet familiar, something that called to something deep inside their souls.

He took a deep breath. Was this really the best course of action? Shouldn’t he wait a bit more? He should have asked for more advice from Sage Navin! But it was too late now.

Kar took one more look around the gathering. Goblins were watching him with expectant eyes. Hobs and goblins, males and females, parents and children. This was for them.

He paused.

Yes, this was for them, wasn’t it? Then why would he hide the other treasure, the black stone tablet that contained the Legacy of the Goblin God?

Goblins were selfish creatures, and Kar was a Goblin through and through. But this was bigger than him, bigger than any of them. Because it was something about all of them. He knew now that he had been about to make a mistake, but that was easily remedied.

The Hobgoblin tactician put one of his hands into his bag and pulled out the stone tablet. He turned and placed it high on a pedestal that the Shamans had built. A small current of warm energy flowed from it into Kar and then into the scroll on his other hand. The two objects seemed to react to each other’s presence.

The Shamans knelt in reverence, and Feneh’s eyes went wide with surprise.

Kar smiled, and knew his choice had been right. This was a chance for all of Goblinkind, his tribe was just the beginning. They had as much right as him to know about the Goblin God.

Every person in the cavern stared at him with rapt attention, even forgetting to breathe. Now, it was time.

Kar raised the scroll high over his head, the stone tablet’s inscriptions shone brightly as Kar opened the scroll.

It unfolded to a length far more than it should have. Extending towards the ground and then upwards, spiraling to the stone ceiling of the cavern and then expanding towards the walls. Like an extremely fast white snake surrounding the tribe.

There was a sound as if a gigantic war drum was being played. All the hearts of the Goblins beat like one for a few glorious moments, their very souls being touched by a mystic force.

Then there was silence. And the torches came alight.

Emerald flames burned bright, soundless and smokeless. They danced out of the many amulets placed in the cavern and started to slowly creep along the rocky walls to reach the top of the cavern. High they went, like crawling serpents of fire opening their maws to devour the stone, they connected at the highest point.

With a sound like clapping thunder or the roar of a raging beast, the green flames expanded outwards covering everything around the gathered tribe, dyeing the world in an emerald hue.

Then as suddenly as they had emerged, the flames were gone. The whole tribe stood in an impossibly large cavern, the rocky ground was the same as their own home, but there was no ceiling and no walls, only an ever-extending ground towards pitch-black darkness all around.

Kar looked around. He could see more Goblins than when the ceremony had started. Not everyone had come when Feneh had summoned them, some were too small, little children who were still sucking on their mothers’ breasts and the parties assigned to guard the tribe.

They were all here now.

Kar didn’t know how, but he just knew it. He could see the entirety of the tribe standing in this dark space.

What had happened, and more importantly, what would happen now?

The scroll was gone, no longer in his hands. Some of the Goblins were panicking, the children were crying, adults were shouting, the Shamans were kneeling. And Feneh…

Feneh was staring at the darkness above.

Kar followed the Chieftain’s gaze and for a moment saw nothing. There was nothing he could see there, but at the same time, there was a sensation that something was beckoning, calling him.

Slowly, he noticed what was there. Shimmering golden words spiraling far away like unreachable stars.

Prompted by an impulse, every single member of the Blaze Cave Tribe raised their head and stared at the distant words shining in the darkness. From the youngest baby to the oldest adult, every single Goblin here stared at the words and experienced different feelings.

Awe, fear, reverence, desire, curiosity, hope.

The scriptures inspired all these and more, a myriad of sensations surging from the depths of their souls. Just like the words called for them, they yearned for the words.

And the scripture expanded along the darkness, shining bright and extending towards them, as if responding to their wish.

Lines and lines of written characters descended around the gathered group of Goblins, like a huge tower with a radius spanning hundreds of meters and a height that defied logic. Decorating the dark sky in place of constellations.

They did not know those words, but they understood them, the words spoke directly to their essence, to that strange spark that made them people, to that unique thing in their blood that made them Goblins. Showing them images, transmitting feelings directly to their souls, revealing memories of so long ago that their bloodline had forgotten them.

So they read a story, and so they wept.

For the story was beautiful and full of hope, dreams, and ambitions, worthy of praise and pride. It was tragic too, for they were proof that even those great ambitions could meet failure, but the tale told by the scripture was nevertheless a beautiful one.

Most importantly, they knew deep inside them that this tale was true.

A tale of some distant past, of some long-gone people in an unknown world. The story of a Goblin who as a boy looked at what his people were and dreamed they could be more, so he fought fate and world for this dream, to make it a reality.

The members of the tribe read about glory and tribulations, about love and betrayals, about the tales of the past and the dreams of the future, about the deeds of one of their kind who would ascend to become a God. Of his achievements and unfulfilled dreams, and about how he wished others could carry on for him.

As the words spiraled downwards, the darkness around the tribe receded and they could see many figures moving around them. Like mirages emerging from the mist of a dreaming mind, the figures appeared, they hadn’t arrived but instead had already been there and only now the Goblins had noticed.

Each figure was doing something different. There were tinkerers and hunters, cookers and fighters, speakers and listeners, walkers and runners. Every one of them a Goblin. There was nothing strange about that, Goblins did all kinds of activities both inside and outside the tribe.

Yet these figures were anything but simple.

There were farmers running through fields, carving open the earth and calling the rain, planting seeds and growing diverse plants to feed tens of thousands and exuding a vibrant air of vitality that covered the land. Shamans of great power, Druids who spoke directly to Nature and brought bountiful harvest and protection for countless people.

Fighters dressed in silk and robes, with armors of holy silver and runic steel, wielding shining weapons blessed with miracles. Heroes who hunted down beasts and slain monsters. Champions of the common people, fighting to protect the weak and innocent, challenging the world for what was right and refusing to bend in front of adversities.

Shade-like Assassins, more silent than the sneakiest of Goblins. Stealthily creeping through forest, mountain, and city, hunting their prey without ever losing track or patience. Infiltrating enemy camp through dozens of defenses and hundreds of enemies to slit the throat of their leader and end a war campaign without further bloodshed.

Researchers in grand laboratories, surrounded by tubes and shimmering liquids, jars of potions and pots full of colorful powders. Running numbers and complex formulas, writing equations and drawing graphs while performing experiments, making science to further understand the universe and create new things.

Wizards and Sorcerers casting spells and rituals that flattened mountains and opened the seas, hurling fire, lightning, and hail from the skies. Summoning creatures from nightmares and mad dreams, conjuring arrays to fight and protect, creating wonders of magic.

Explorers of the deepest pits of the earth, Rangers of the wildest forests, climbers of the tallest mountains, those capable of taming the fiercest beasts and making the most inhospitable environment their homes. True adventurers who dreamed of exploring the greatest secrets of the world.

Bankers laughing as they sat among piles of gold tall as hills, surrounded by riches and treasures from many lands. Many societies depending on their decrees and accountings to properly function.

Blacksmiths forging masterpieces that could slay titans and kill demons, crafting artifacts that could change the tide of wars and decide the future of civilizations.

Engineers and architects, those whose minds and hands made them makers of works of stone, metal, and wood. Crafters of weapons and builders of homes. They who paved road for commerce and walls for protection, who built channels for water, ordained the streets and structures of metropolises. Those whose designs bridged the gap between untamed wilderness and organized civilization, bringing forth a new style of living for the enjoyment of common people.

Grinning madmen, conquerors marching to war and unleashing destruction onto their enemies, slaughtering and breaking armies with merciless power. Tyrants who ruled by might and rose as hordes of dark beasts, a tide trying to drown the world unless it submitted to their crown, setting the world aflame while laughing.

Wise and merciful rulers, enlightened in peace and mighty at war. Developers of culture and makers of righteous law, bringing prosperity to those under them and peaceful times to all around.

Healers, doctors who stared unflinchingly at the gods of death and refused their verdicts over the patients’ life. Those who with technique and skill, and with knowledge and magic, saved countless numbers of people, crossing the grimmest of fields to bring even the briefest respite to those in suffering. Alleviators of pain, keepers of life and relieved smiles.

Performers and artists. Singers and musicians of myriad instruments and voices. Those who for a smile and a meal, for a drink or the lowest penny, or simply for the joy of a company and conversation, brought color and warmth to ordinary days. Actors who told tales of fantasy and truths stranger than fictions. Bards who sang of deeds from faraway lands and painters who immortalized their art for eternity.

So many ways of life, so many choices and manifestations of society.

Alchemists, mages, engineers, heroes and more. Every single Goblin of the tribe focused on something different, they saw different figures, sometimes only one, sometimes many at the same time or one after the other. It varied from person to person, as they had different aspirations and talents. But they all watched with enraptured attention.

And they wept.

Because that was not them, because hope hurt. They were watching wonders of glory and honor, happiness and full meals in a warm home, those dreams they kept inside their hearts and never dared to tell anyone else were right in front of them. Yet it also felt so distant as to be unreachable.

They were not like Them, like those glorious figures that shone with splendor. These Goblins were small, hungry, poor and weak, so they did not dare to look anymore, they turned away from the visions because they were afraid and ashamed. Because they were Goblins, raised in the belief that they were not allowed to have such happiness, as that was not proper, as that was not the way of the world.

They turned away their gazes and grieved. Desiring from the bottom of their hearts to watch again, to reach out and be part of that vision, but they did not dare to. Because they were afraid of hope, because they did not believe themselves worthy of it.

Some cried in silence and alone, with hunched shoulders and cast down eyes. Some cried loudly, wailing and despairing, roaring their anger to the unjust world. Others leaned on their loved ones or their kin, parents hugging children and children comforting their pained parents.

The whole cavern trembled and the shining figures twisted, becoming diffused. The shimmering words in the sky started to crack as if they were about to fall apart.

But some still kept staring.

Two Goblins did not turn their gazes. Standing side by side, they stared at the figures. They did not flinch.

Oh, they cried too, they felt the same as the rest, they were afraid and they also felt the same shame and inferiority when comparing themselves to the glorious figures around them. But they were not afraid to hope, because inside their hearts it burned with a flare that could not be extinguished, because they already were walking their own path towards that dream and those figures were showing them that it could be done.

For a long time, they simply stood there, under the obsidian skies and star-like scripture, staring at their tribe and the visions. Trying to grasp some meaning from it. Thinking of ways to make it a reality for them.

Kar looked at the tribe, to the kneeling Goblins who wept and despaired, and his heart bled because he understood their pain.

Feneh looked at his tribe, the people he was charged to protect and guide. But he had no words to give them, he did not know what to say to them, how to make their pain go away.

Two leaders stood side by side, as their people knelt. But those two did not despair, instead, they waited. Something akin to faith was blooming in them, and they believed this was not the end.

Maybe the tribe was not ready, they should have spoken to the others slowly and prepared them for this ceremony. Maybe this was something beyond their capability and it was impossible to grasp the teachings of the shining figures in the visions.

Perhaps, but these two would still dare to challenge it. They had started their journey knowing the impossible odds. The hope within their hearts and the dream within their minds was not something that would be extinguished by this, oh no. Quite the opposite.

Upon witnessing these scenes, their hope roared in ecstatic fulfillment. The satisfaction of knowing it could be done, that the dream was not in vain, filled their souls and gave them renewed strength like nothing else.

They would show the others, and one day their tribe would stand tall with prideful hearts vibrant with hope, with smiles on their faces and dreamful eyes.

So those two stood unblinking, trembling, clenching their fists and grinding their teeth with determined grins. Staring at the dream-like figures and to the one beyond.

The one that was greatest of them all, one that none but the two of them could see. Sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, he seemed so ordinary, just another Goblin sitting far away.

One could look at him and completely disregard his presence, but then another look would show that he was different from the rest, only looking small in the same way that the stars in the sky looked small. Then he was back to being a shadowed figure, behind a veil of thick darkness and mist, like a distant memory long forgotten. And again he was there, so vivid and real that they felt he was right next to them, within reach of their hands if they so much as dared to try.

Feneh and Kar stood looking at the God of Goblins, staring at the pinnacle of their kind. They had seen other figures too, of course. They had both watched the colorful deeds of the many Goblins of other worlds and seen various images and ways of life. But when they had caught a glimpse of the Goblin sitting behind all those figures, they had stopped seeing anything else.

Kharsfal Tehrek Kobelin could be said to have an appearance like any other Goblin. Green skin, albeit one that had some hues of azure to it. Pointed ears like sharp daggers with rings piercing one and pendants hanging from the other, a square jaw with slight hints of a beard, and strong muscles.

But he was also like no other. He was dressed in only black trousers made of some kind of scales and some sort of silver chainmail that spiraled from his waist to his knees. Long black hair fell over his shoulders and down back, part of it styled in dreadlocks decorated with multiple ornaments of different materials, though the hair over his shoulders was left uncombed and wild. His arms, chest, and back had multiple marks; tattoos and sigils of unknown meaning. There were crimson lines on the left side of his face, and a golden sigil under his right eye.

It was strange how the two Goblins could know exactly how the back of the Goblin God looked like, even when looking at him from the front. They could take in any angle, any detail on his body was made clear for them to glance over, as if he was inviting them to attempt to distinguish something clearly, to comprehend something. Anything.

Physically, he looked like a regular Hobgoblin. They were looking at a Goblin that if he stood he would be no taller than six feet, yet the feeling he gave them was something else entirely.

The whole cavern shook, sky and earth seemed on the border of collapse as grief and despair clutched the hearts of the kneeling tribe.

Then the God stood up and the world went still.

Suddenly he was massive, a colossus whose presence could crush them all and turn them to ashes if he so much as thought about it with enough seriousness. His force of presence filled the world, and the tremblor stopped.

There he stood, one who could guard them against all harm, a Titan with his head over the clouds and his feet under the ground, legs like mountains, arms like colossal pillars that could hold on the heavens and withstand their collapse to protect all under his care.

Every mark on his body radiated power and held within it an abstract concept of the forces of the Cosmos, his sheer force of presence seemed to burn the space around him, exuding an aura of unspeakable might. As if his hands could contain all of creation and the extension of his arms span the world, as if his words could be heard in heaven and earth and command the forces of nature.

His eyes were closed, but the two leaders could see that the orbs under those eyelids were shining bright.

The two Hobgoblins stood, watching the Paragon of their species, and they wanted to reach him. They wanted his help and wanted to be like him. But Goblins had no words of prayer, no songs of praise to any divinity and no chants of mercy and miracles from the heavens.

As the weeping Goblins shed their tears and let out all the emotions within their hearts, they timidly raised their heads, slowly, like little children daring to steal a glance to their parents after being lectured.

What they saw had their hearts swelling with emotions again. Because the glorious figures, the radiant mirages and idolized experts who had emerged from a dream to show impossible deeds and tempt them with glory unknown to them, had all stopped their activities.

Instead, they were looking at the crying Goblins on the ground and simply extended their hands, silently offering them help.

Come, they seemed to be saying, take our hand, so you can be like us.

“Goblins.”

The immortal figures in the dream spoke with a smile, inviting and welcoming. Their hands extended for the children to take, so they could take on the paths presented and be more. To be what they were meant to be, what they dreamed of being.

“Goblins.”

The timid and hoping people on the ground whispered. Afraid, hesitant, but little by little, daring to hope a bit more. They raised their heads and extended their hands in response to the invitation. Reaching for the dream.

Feneh and Kar grinned and raised their heads to look at the figure standing further beyond the dream. He was smiling too.

The Goblin God laughed. His voice was like soothing rain and gentle breezes, like roaring thunder and raging fire. Like blazing hope and undying dreams.

He opened his eyes, and the light swallowed their world.