The two quickly made it to the main room; after all, it was right next to the workshop. The room had been enlarged to make room for the expanding dungeon core; it was now larger in diameter than the goblin. It floated above the enlarged earth, the purple flames tickling the bottom of it.

  “Your dungeon core is growing at a significant rate.” The angel could not help but comment.

  “Most dungeon masters are not as willing as me to have such a large entrance.” The goblin laughed; he couldn’t confirm it but from what he had heard, he was one of the ballsier dungeon masters out there. The angel leaned in and looked deep into the inky black that was the core.

  “I see it, the soul…” The golden ball of light was drawn from the core and floated before the angelic construct. After a moment of silence the angel spoke, “this is an atrocity…” There was a venom in that line that he had never heard come from the angel before.

  “Do you know who it is?” The goblin asked.

  “No, but this soul is one of the purest I’ve ever seen.” Another moment passed, “and some sick creature is torturing it.”

  “Torturing?” The goblin said, worry coming to his eyes. He didn’t really care for such senseless acts, one of the reasons he never gave another one to Thoth.

  “Yes, this soul was cut in half. Someone is torturing the other half to try and purify it into consumable energy. Only because of the strength of their will have they held on for this long,” the angel explained.

  “Can you determine who it is?” The goblin asked. The angel paused for a moment as it closed its eyes and searched for something within its metal head. After a few nail-biting moments, the angel looked back down at the soul.

  “After searching through the records, several souls destined for Celestia have gone missing over the years. According to The Book of Judgement, the soul of a particular priest had gone missing several years back. I do not know why the record keepers had not mentioned this to the council of archangels.”

  “This is not normal?” Armand asked.

  “No, a soul of this purity would not slip through the cracks.” The angel clarified. “While we hate to admit it, we angels are similar to demons in a way.” This caused the goblin to turn in astonishment.

  “Truly?” Armand gasped. \

  Uriel continued to stand there solemnly. “Demons torture the wicked till their souls become clean and safe to consume.” He turned to look at the goblin. “We take the souls of the good and satisfy all their earthly desires till they are satisfied and become transcended from themselves; then they are incorporated into our beings.”

  “Cleaning souls by satisfying their desires… most curious.” The goblin was beginning to put pieces together. Since the outer planes were not connected to the material world directly, the only way the beings within them could grow in power was to consume the emotions within souls and then eventually the soul or to be summoned into servitude in the material plane in exchange.

  “No one ever truly does something for free.” The angel said, almost reading his thoughts, “Souls like this, however, are so pure that they could become an angel themselves.” He turned to the goblin. “To me this is similar to torturing an infant, a child.”

  “Who is she?” He worried because he already felt a sense of familiarity with this soul and now more information had come to light, truly making him worry.

  “Her name is Angelica.” The revelation made him collapse into the big leather armchair. The construct looked at him. “So you do know her then.” Tears poured from the corner of his eyes as he shook violently in his seat. The angel leaned forward and stretched out a hand and touched it upon the goblin’s forehead.

  Visions filled the angel’s mind as he was brought deep into the goblin’s memories. The dungeon disappeared, replaced with a sprawling structure made of haphazardly nailed-together wood, torn fragments of cloth, and bones littered and decorating every corner.

  The scent of urine, feces, and rotting meat pervaded every corner of the place. The walls were filled with grunts, growls, and screams of both the tormentors and tormentees.

  A small goblin, who was impossibly thin, sat before a girl. The girl was bound in a truss made by bone, thick ropes tying her down, leaving bloody tracks, signs of the number of times she tried to struggle free. The dirt and filth couldn’t hide her golden hair or the beautiful face underneath.

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  “What is this word?” The little goblin asked, pointing to a specific part of the book.

  “That is the word, Knight.” The girl said, her voice dry but still as pleasant as a breeze on a hot day. “They protect the innocent and always get chased by the girls.”

  “I only need one girl…” The little goblin said innocently, and a sweet smile graced the face of the captive. The moment was interrupted as a fat figure burst its way through the opening.

  “Begone, rat.” The fat goblin grabbed the goblin runt and threw him out of the room. The angel’s perspective shifted with Armand as he was now in a courtyard, several bulky goblins surrounding the entrance laughing.

  Their laughter only grew as the girls began to scream; Armand could only sit there and clutch the book within his thin arms. They cycle continued endlessly, but every day the little goblin was there to comfort the woman.

  The day’s blurred, and the girl’s spirit never gave way. The little goblin was standing by the king, pouring foul-smelling liquid into a glass for him to drink. “The girl isn’t going to break; we need a more drastic method.” One of the goblin shamans suggested.

  The fat goblin leaned forward. “Should we commence with the bonfire then?” A toadlike grin across his face.

  “It might not work, Your Excellency.” Another shaman suggested, “It is quite a risk considering how much you have invested.”

  “I bore of her anyhow…” The king callously replied. The little goblin heard every word; there was no choice—he had to act tonight. He managed to steal a dagger and headed into the captives' tent.

  “What are you doing here, Armand? It’s too late; you might get in trouble.” The girl couldn’t help but worry, even as she was trapped there.

  “We have to go, Angelica; they are going to kill you!” He said as he struggled to cut the ropes; after a lot of effort, he finally succeeded. She collapsed to the ground; despite not having moved for months, she managed to push herself upright. The little goblin grabbed the book too while she adjusted herself.

  “Gods bless us, let’s go…” They quickly exited the tent and began making their way out. But they were waiting, as a hand roughly grabbed the goblin runt by the throat.

  “Got ‘em, boss.” The muscled goblin said as two others restrained the girl. The king stepped forth, his rolls of fat giggling with every step, and a croaking laugh escaped him.

  “False hope, followed by destruction. The ritual should have a greater chance of success now.” Said one of the shamans in the background.

  “Good, good, tie her to the pyre.” The king ordered as the goblins dragged her to it. “And you…” He looked at the runt. “Enjoy the show.” A flicker of flame leapt from his fingertip and ignited the tinder.

  Armand barely remembered the screams, as he kept his eyes locked with her as she burned. The eyes of the girl sent the message to the little goblin: run. He maneuvered enough to take a bite out of the hand that grasped his neck, severing a huge hunk of flesh and causing the muscled goblin to drop him.

  Quickly stealing a dagger from the bulky goblin’s side, he jabbed it into the big guy’s throat. Swiftly withdrawing it. “Where are you going to run, runt?” The voice of the king echoed out.

  Armand pivoted and threw the dagger, and perhaps as a final blessing from Angelica, the dagger flew true and straight into the fat bastard’s eye.

  The little goblin didn’t sit around waiting to see the result. He grabbed their book from the ground and booked it into the wilds. He could hear a roar in the distance, “Forget about me, bring that little shit back here so I can spear him end to end!”

  There was one choice, the little goblin thought, and like many before him, he chose potential death versus certain death as he dashed into the darkness of the forest of death.

  -

  After a deep gasp, the goblin came back to his senses. The angel was sitting across from him; if the angelic construct could frown, it would. “I see now how you came into the possession of Angelica.”

  “How so?” The goblin said through the dried tears and snot. Perhaps it was the angel’s sharing of his past but it helped the trauma calm for the moment.

  “The goblin king was not doing what he did for no reason; he was attempting to break her soul before binding it and wiping it clean.” The angel explained. “But her will was so strong her soul broke in two, part of which ended up in the book you two shared.”

  “So she has been here the whole time.” The goblin wanted to be happy but her continued torture could not let him be.

  “Don’t feel so bad; if she did not have the nurturing and shielding of the dungeon core, she would have long been broken and most likely consumed by the goblin king.” The angel tried to comfort the goblin.

  “What about the other half of her soul?” Armand couldn’t help but ask.

  “It needs to be retrieved; forcefully breaking one soul in half would cause the person to completely split.” The construct replied.

  “Is that why her soul appears as it does?” He asked, looking into the golden light and seeing all the missing parts. “I was able to sever parts of my soul with no issue.”

  “Small parts are okay but severing that much is very dangerous.” The angel commented, causing the goblin to frown in a different way.

  “That may cause an issue with another plan of mine…” The goblin had much to ponder. “Thank you, Uriel, we will save her soon.” The angel nodded and stepped away as Armand sat and ruminated on it all.