The western watchtower jutted into the darkening sky like a lonely spear of stone. Cold wind slipped through the broken shutters, making the old wood groan and whisper, as if the tower itself already knew that blood would soon stain its floors.

  Inside, the spiral staircase twisted upward through the hollow center. The steps were narrow—barely wide enough for two to pass—and each footfall made the aged wood shiver under the weight.

  Tria waited in the dim stairwell, motionless. Her breathing was slow, controlled, though danger pressed from below like a rising tide. Years on hostile roads had honed her instincts; she knew exactly what was coming.

  Two daggers rested in her hands: thin, curved, polished by constant use. They were weapons built for speed, precision, survival—not brute force.

  She listened.

  Then she heard it.

  Footsteps. Fast. Desperate. Someone was running toward the tower as if death itself chased him.

  A heartbeat later, another sound joined it—many feet scrambling violently across stone. Goblins.

  The door at the base of the tower burst open with a violent slam. A foot soldier stumbled through and immediately began climbing the stairs two at a time. His heartbeat thundered with every step, breath coming in ragged gasps. Sweat ran down his temples, his eyes wide with panic.

  Six goblins! He shouted, his voice echoing through the stairwell. The warning reverberated against the walls.

  Tria’s grip tightened.

  Then the monsters appeared.

  Six goblins surged through the doorway behind him like a wave of twisted flesh and hunger. Their green skin gleamed under the torchlight. Crooked fangs jutted from snarling mouths, eyes burning with vicious delight. They climbed the stairs with terrifying speed, clawing and scrambling over each other in their eagerness to tear the soldier apart. Their shrill laughter echoed through the tower. The hunt had begun.

  The first goblin lunged before the soldier could reach Tria. Steel rang. He parried with the tip of his spear, sparks flying in the dim stairwell. But the tight space worked against him. Another goblin slammed into his side, a third leapt onto his back.

  Tria moved instantly. Her daggers flashed like silver lightning. One goblin shrieked as her blade slipped beneath its ribs. She twisted the dagger and kicked the creature down the stairs, where it tumbled into the others with a sickening crack.

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  Stay on your feet! She snapped.

  The goblins did not relent. They moved like rabid animals, scrambling over the fallen body of their companion. Two rushed her together.

  Tria struck first, driving a dagger into one’s throat. Blood sprayed the wooden wall. Another swung wildly. She deflected it and slashed across its eyes. The creature howled, stumbling backward.

  Behind her, the foot soldier fought desperately. One goblin leapt onto him, claws raking his clothes. Another stabbed low, forcing him to retreat.

  Back! He growled, stabbing at one in the chest—but the creatures were relentless. One lunged forward and sank its fangs into his arm.

  AH—! he cried, dropping to a knee.

  Tria’s eyes widened.

  Move! Her dagger flashed. With a brutal downward strike, she cleaved the goblin’s neck. The blade bit deep, splitting bone. It collapsed in two twitching halves.

  Another tried to ambush the soldier.

  Tria pivoted and kicked it square in the chest. The railing shattered as it flew over the edge, crashing below. Slowly, it rose, snarling.

  For a moment, survival seemed possible. But the remaining goblins had learned.

  All three attacked Tria at once. Steel rang again and again as she blocked, her movements growing frantic, slower.

  The foot soldier lunged to assist—

  —and then it happened.

  A goblin slipped past Tria’s defense. Without hesitation, the foot soldier stepped between them. It dashed forward and pierced his stomach.

  Tria saw it, but could not react fast enough. Time seemed to slow. The goblin tore its blade free and leapt back, screeching in triumph.

  The soldier collapsed to his knees.

  …No, Tria whispered.

  He fell to the floor, blood spreading beneath him. Memories surfaced in the fading darkness: a small house, sunlight streaming through a window, his wife smiling gently, their little daughter running toward him with laughter.

  Papa!

  His trembling hand reached for them, one last touch.

  I’m sorry… he breathed.

  Light faded from his eyes.

  The goblins noticed immediately. Their snarls twisted into gleeful cackles. One lifted the bloodied blade, shrieking in triumph.

  Tria stared at the fallen soldier. He had taken the blow meant for her. Protected her.

  Her hands began to tremble. Her breathing grew heavier.

  The goblins noticed. One grinned and rushed her.

  Tria did not dodge. She exploded forward. Her right-hand dagger drove upward through the goblin’s jaw, bursting from the top of its skull. It died instantly, collapsing in a heap.

  The remaining two hesitated. Tria’s eyes burned with fury. Blood dripped from her blades.

  You killed him, she whispered. Then she charged.

  The second goblin swung wildly. She slipped inside the attack, slashing both knees. Tendons snapped. As it fell screaming, she grabbed its head and slammed it into the railing until the skull collapsed like rotten fruit.

  The final goblin lunged from behind. Its claws raked her shoulder. Pain flared. It laughed, sensing victory. Rage drove her forward. She dashed, drove her daggers through its eyes, and pinned it to the floor. She stabbed relentlessly—twice, three times, four, five. Each strike sank deeper. The body went limp. Tria shoved it aside.

  Silence returned to the watchtower. Her breath came in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from her daggers.

  She looked down. The foot soldier lay still. Quiet.

  Tria dropped to her knees, closing his lifeless eyes.

  You didn’t have to save me, you know, she whispered hoarsely.

  The wind howled through the broken tower windows. But there was no answer.