A goblin.
A goblin was right in front of her, had saved her, and all Linda could do was gape at the small woman.
The goblin - Krithan? Krithak? was that what goblins were called here? - was older, wrinkles etched deep around her sharp yellow eyes, her grey-streaked hair braided tightly against her skull. She wore a patchwork leather jerkin and held a dagger that gleamed wet with shadow-blood. She looked Linda up and down, snorted, then flicked the blade clean with a practiced twist of her wrist.
"Fuck's sake," The goblin woman rasped, her voice like gravel under boots. "What in the Twelve Hells is wrong with you? Wandering bare-assed into a hollow-touched ruin?"
Linda stuttered, her new cheeks flushing pink.
"I- I didn’t mean to—" Linda stumbled, her voice catching as the weight of the dead thing pressed into her ribs.
Another voice cut through the gloom - cool, precise, like a know-it-all professor - each word measured like a surgeon’s scalpel.
"Izze. Stop scaring the stray. We have movement deeper in." The other said. A man stepped into the torchlight. He was tall, robed, with clinical hazel eyes scanning Linda like a faulty specimen under glass. He carried a staff rather than a dagger and it seemed to be made out of wood. "You're unharmed?"
Linda scrambled backwards, her palms scraping against rough stone as she kicked free of the corpse's weight.
"I- I'm fine," Linda lied, her voice cracking like cheap veneer.
The goblin - Izze - rolled her yellow eyes and hooked a thumb toward the robed man.
"Teddy here thinks you're either curseborn or just plain stupid," Izze said, sheathing her dagger with a sharp SNICK. "Personally? I'm leaning toward both, but we need to see your Blessing to know for sure, hot stuff."
Linda blinked - her brain still buffering - as Izze's words parsed like corrupted data. Curseborn? Blessing? She curled her fingers into fists, instinctively hiding the glowing mark pulsing against her palm.
Theodore stepped forward, his robes whispering against the stone.
"Nothing living survives near Vael's remnants untouched," Theodore said, tapping his staff against the hollowed corpse. "The corruption hollows them out - body first, then mind - until they're just... corrupted husks with a hole." His clinical tone didn't soften the horror. "You're either remarkably lucky, or—" His gaze flicked to Linda's hidden hand.
Izze didn't wait for permission.
The goblin lunged forward, quicker than Linda could blink, and snatched her wrist with calloused fingers.
"Let's see what you're hiding, sunshine—" Izze growled, twisting Linda's palm upward. The tattoo pulsed brilliantly in the gloom, its rays unmistakable.
Theodore inhaled sharply.
Izze's grip slackened just enough for Linda to feel the shift...
Not revulsion, but...
...reverence?
Huh?
"Solanthe's mark," Theodore murmured, adjusting his glasses like a scholar confronted with an impossible text. "Underground. In this ruin." His clinical tone cracked for the first time, revealing something raw beneath - not skepticism, but awe bordering on disbelief.
Izze's grip tightened again, her calloused thumb tracing the rays with unexpected gentility.
"Twelve fucking Hells," Izze breathed, yellow eyes flicking to Linda's face. "You don't look like some sun-blessed hero. More like a startled rabbit in borrowed clothes."
Linda's pulse hammered against her ribs.
The mark burned under their scrutiny.
Not Solanthe's.
Vael's.
But if they thought otherwise...
"I- I wouldn't know," Linda blurted, voice pitching higher. "I just woke up here. Don't even remember how I got underground." The lie tasted sour, but she leaned into it, pressing a hand to her temple like a bad actress in a hospital drama. "Everything's... fuzzy."
Izze snorted, releasing Linda's wrist with a rough shove. "Solanthe's blessed popping up in Vael's crypt? Either the gods are drunk, or you're the worst liar this side of the Sunderlands." But she exchanged a glance with Theodore - something unreadable passing between them -before shrugging. "Whatever. Not my problem if the sun god wants his champion crawling through corpse juice."
Theodore adjusted his glasses, his clinical mask slipping back into place.
"Statistically improbable, but not impossible." Theodore added, his tone suggested he'd file Linda under 'theological anomaly' and move on. "We have more pressing concerns. at the moment. The hollows are converging."
Linda opened her mouth - to protest, to ask questions, to something - but Izze was already striding toward the crumbling archway, her dagger glinting.
"Move your pretty sun-blessed ass, new meat. Unless you wanna be lunch?" Izze posed, but the Krithak - Linda finally remembered - didn't wait for an answer, disappearing into the shadows with Theodore close behind.
Linda swallowed hard, her bare feet stinging against the uneven stone as she scrambled after them. The borrowed shirt clung uncomfortably to her sweat-damp skin, the smell of mildew and rot thick in her nose. Every instinct screamed wrong wrong wrong - she was a cybersecurity analyst, not some dungeon-crawling adventurer - but staying alone in the dark with more of those...
...things weren't an option.
Theodore’s staff pulsed with sudden yellow light as he invoked his Blessing and the tattoo of an open hand on the back of his hand flared briefly before the glow transferred to the wood grain. The illumination wasn’t bright, just enough to carve a path through the oppressive dark.
Izze prowled ahead, her dagger low and ready, ears twitching at every distant scrape of stone.
"Stay between us," Izze hissed over her shoulder, her voice stripped of its usual rasp. "If I say duck, you fucking duck. You got me, sweetheart?"
Linda nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
Three hollowed figures shambled into view ahead, their movements jerky like corrupted animations, ribcages split open to reveal yawning voids within.
Izze held up a fist.
Theodore froze mid-step, his staff’s glow dimming to a faint ember.
Linda saw the hollows first, three more shambling figures emerging from a side passage, their ribcages split wide like corrupted server racks leaking smoke. Izze didn’t turn, didn’t speak, but her fingers flicked rapid signals: left two, right one, bottleneck ahead.
Theodore’s nod was microscopic, his grip shifting on his staff.
Izze’s tattoo flared green - three claw marks burning bright - as she inhaled sharply through her nose. The scent of wet fur and iron flooded the corridor. Her pupils dilated, black swallowing yellow, and Linda felt the change...
The way the air itself seemed to still, waiting...
The nearest hollow twitched, its void-chest pulsing, then whipped its head toward them with a wet CRACK.
Too late.
Izze was already moving.
Theodore’s staff flashed yellow - his open-hand tattoo flaring - as he slammed the butt into the ground. A shockwave of warmth rippled outward, the hollows staggering like glitching avatars. Izze struck in the stutter-step pause, her dagger carving through tendon and shadow with surgical precision. The first hollow collapsed, ichor spraying in arcs that sizzled against Theodore’s healing glow. The second lunged - Izze pivoted, using its momentum to drive her blade up through its jaw - while Theodore caught the third mid-lunge with his staff, the wood cracking its collarbone with a sound like a failing hard drive.
Linda pressed herself against the damp temple wall, her pulse hammering in her throat. The fight unfolded with terrifying efficiency - no wasted motion, no dramatic flourishes - just brutal economy of movement. Izze fought like her dagger was an extension of her arm, her small frame leveraging every ounce of momentum, while Theodore moved with clinical precision, his staff intercepting strikes before they fully formed.
Both were fluid, knew one another, and used their Blessings in tandem.
It was nothing like the movies.
It was ugly.
It was efficient.
And it was over in less than five minutes.
The fight truly ended when Izze plunged her dagger into the thirds skull after she had vaulted off of Theodore's shoulders.
Not a scratch was on either of them.
Izze turned back, her smile a little feral, her dagger still dripping with black ichor.
"How'd you like that, sunshine?" Izze rasped, wiping the blade clean on her thigh. Her yellow eyes gleamed in Theodore's fading staff-light, pupils still dilated from whatever primal edge her Blessing had given her. "Real pretty when we do it right, ain't it?"
Theodore exhaled sharply through his nose, adjusting his glasses with his free hand.
"We don't have time for posturing," Theodore said, his voice clipped. "Every hollow you bisect broadcasts our location like a beacon. They'll swarm within minutes." His hazel eyes flicked to Linda, lingering on her borrowed clothes and bare feet before adding, "Aborting the delve was the correct choice. A living Solanthe-marked is more important at the moment than what we came to do."
Izze rolled her eyes but didn't argue, kicking aside a hollowed femur with her boot as she moved toward the crumbling corridor ahead. Linda followed, her new Aelvyn feet protesting against the uneven stone - every pebble and crack amplified by both unfamiliar physiology and adrenaline sensitivity. She noted absently that Izze moved like a predator scanning for traps, her dagger never resting, her nostrils flaring every few steps as if catching scents Linda couldn't detect.
Theodore took rear guard, his staff's glow dimmed to near-darkness, the occasional flicker of yellow light revealing patches of faded murals under centuries of grime. The air grew thicker as they ascended. It was less mildew and more stale incense clinging to the cracked reliefs of robed figures Linda now recognized as Vael's priesthood. Her fingers brushed one carving absentmindedly, recoiling when the stone crumbled too easily under her touch, revealing hollow veins of black corruption spiderwebbing beneath the surface.
Then...
...light.
Faint at first, a hairline fracture of gold in the distant ceiling, widening as they climbed the final staircase. Linda stumbled forward, her silver hair suddenly gilded as true sunlight hit her face for the first time in this world. She gasped, the warmth pooling in the hollow of her throat, her new Aelvyn pupils contracting to slits against the brilliance. The air smelled like crushed pine and something floral, clean in a way that made her chest ache. Behind her, Izze snorted at the display, but Linda didn’t care. Linda tilted her face upward like a flower tracking the sun, her fingers splayed to catch the dappled light filtering through the canopy above.
Theodore's staff extinguished with a final pulse as he stepped onto the moss-cushioned ledge, his clinical assessment of their surroundings at odds with the way Linda’s breath hitched at the panorama.
Velmoira stretched before them, emerald forests ribboned with silver rivers, distant mountains wreathed in mist, and a sky so vividly blue it made Earth's atmosphere seem like a washed-out imitation.
Izze snorted at Linda's slack-jawed expression, nudging her with an elbow.
"Welcome to Quorrith, princess. Try not to gawk like a tourist when we get to a city. It attracts pickpockets and worse." Izze explained, her yellow eyes flicking to the treeline where shadows pooled unnaturally. "And keep that mark hidden unless you fancy becoming target practice for Solanthe's fanatics. We here in Quorrith aren't as crazy for Solanthe, but in Sollavar? You'd be fucked."
Theodore cleared his throat, getting the attention of both Izze and Linda.
"You still haven't told us your name. My own is Theodore Sterling," Theodore stated as he looked at Linda. His tone was still clinical, but there was something softer beneath - perhaps curiosity, or even concern. "If you're lost and unsure, you're welcome to accompany us, but that is up to you."
Izze scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.
"Bullshit, Teddy. We can't just leave her alone in the wilds with hollows crawling around. She’s got no gear, no clue... Twelve Hells, she barely knows how to stand properly!" Her eyes flicked to Linda’s bare feet before softening slightly. "Izze Farsteel, by the way. Current long-time adventurer at the Tarnished Blade along with this one. Gold Rank, the both of us."
Linda blinked rapidly, trying to process the rapid-fire information.
Gold Rank?
Tarnished Blade?
It sounded like some MMORPG terminology she’d mocked during late-night coding sessions.
The words stuck in her dry throat.
"I- I’m Linda," Linda managed, fingers twisting in the tattered hem of her scavenged shirt. "I guess... I should come with you? If that’s- if that’s alright."
The lie about amnesia tasted like ash, but what was she supposed to say? Hi, I’m a dead human turned elf by a forgotten and locked up goddess?
Izze snorted, shaking her head with a grin that showed pointed teeth.
"Smart move. Better with us than hollow-chow." She grabbed Linda’s hand in a grip that felt like old leather wrapped around steel, yanking her forward into a quick, rough shake that nearly dislocated her shoulder. "Welcome to the shitshow, Linda."
A shitshow, indeed…
But Linda had a new lease on life and she was going to try to enjoy it.
Spoiler
The blessing system will be explained, but this will not at all be a hard magic story. I don't do well with level ups, keeping track of all the spells, applying it all to every fight, so this is my compromise. Something unique and interesting, but not complicated at all. Also comment, rate, and tell me how you like it! Someone already gave me a 2 star - like what the fuck? - but I won't let it get me down! Here is my insp for Izze and Theodore
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