"Are you really serious about that, Steve?"
The ghost's voice came out low and rough, like rust scraping against stone. Its hollow eyes flared with contempt as it glared at him.
Steve didn't flinch. He met the stare evenly, his own gaze narrowing with grim resolve.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I'm sure."
The air between them felt heavier now. Steve exhaled and added, "I want to know everything you know about the goblins. Where they came from. What the hell they are."
The ghost gave a bitter chuckle, sharp and dry. "Oh, they're just dying to hand over all their secrets to me. What do I look like, their therapist?"
"I'm going off instinct," Steve said. "Something about them feels... wrong. More than usual."
"Instincts?" the ghost sneered. "That's rich coming from you. But fine, I'll bite."
It folded its arms, drifting a few steps away like it couldn't stand being too close to him.
